Monday | February 1, 2010 | 1:13 pm
Monday Morning Review: ‘You, The Living’ I’m trying hard to start some more regular features on this blog. So far it’s mostly been news and trailers for upcoming films, and that’s great and all, but I feel like a more loyal following of readers comes with a more honest opinion, and I’ve scarcely expressed my opinions on this site. And so to start off something new, each week I’m gonna try to review one of the many films I watched over the weekend that I’m sure many of you (not all, I know there are a few cinephiles out there who are just as hard to please as me) have not seen or heard of in an attempt to expose readers to the darker side of cinema (as was my initial intention for the site). So be warned, many of the films I’ll review are, in fact, downright dark. Over the weekend I finally had the chance to sit down and watch one of the films that’s been sitting in my queue for a while. It only came out last year in the states and frankly, I’m not sure why I didn’t watch it sooner. It most definitely would have made my top ten for 2009. Roy Andersson’s You, The Living is a sad film, make no mistake about it. Its characters are depressing, the lives they lead are mundane and insignificant, and the setting is dreary to say the least. The effect is something so brutally honest and oddly surreal and realistic at the same time that it becomes humorous to a point. It isn’t a film to laugh at with friends or family, but to laugh at under your breathe when you finally realize how true to life everything in it actually is. The entire film consists of about fifty different vignettes, portraying people as people, nothing more. It examines human beings in their most natural settings, hiding from the world, existing only within their comfort zones, each of them believing so fully in the conviction that their pain and suffering is unique. They complain, over and over again, about things that we have all known and felt, yet in their somewhat comical bouts of egocentric selfishness they still all confidently proclaim that “no one understands me”. The characters in the film would most certainly be obnoxious if it weren’t for Andersson’s overall sensibility to just laugh it off. He paints the film with dull pastel colors in an almost entirely static, portrait-esque camera. Throughout the course of the movie we see each vignette from either medium or long shots, and this enables Andersson to choreograph the actions and rearrange the mise-en-scene as the scene unfolds, presenting viewers with the chance to see everything that occurs within the frame. This is where the timing comes into play, and it’s completely impeccable. Characters enter and leave at exactly the right points, they call off screen to other characters, and at times look directly into the camera, addressing the audience itself. This makes the film one of the most personal experiences I’ve witnessed in a long time. The motionless camera plus the elements of the mise-en-scene place the viewer immediately within the scene, witnessing life as it happens before our eyes. And because of it’s unconventional style and technical aspects, it recalls earlier works by the surrealists such as Bunuel, who looked at life in a similar style; essentially through a human eye rather than a lens. The ultimate revelation of You, The Living is that there really isn’t anything odd about it. It’s not a weird film by any means, yet we laugh and are uncomfortable because of what the medium is capable of revealing. A tuba player looks into the camera and explains to the audience how his bank screwed him over and how he’s lost 34 percent of his retirement fund. All the while, an overweight and generally unattractive woman rides on top of him, completely naked, wearing the man’s marching band hat, thrusting up and down, over and over, gaining intensity each time until the man finally professes to the audience “it’s really quite depressing”. It is extremely depressing, but Andersson’s flawless cinematic technique takes that burden off of our shoulders. Thanks to the films ability to realize all the things we feel, think, observe, and even dream in a way that’s tangible and on the surface, rather than hidden in our subconscious, it allows us to see the comedy of depression and human nature in general. A lonely young girl finally believes she’s found salvation upon meeting a local rock star at a bar. She quickly realizes that the one drink they shared was just that; one lonely drink. She holds on however, constantly exclaiming her love for the man, and how it could have been so good between them. Later in the film she shares with viewers a dream she had, at which point Andersson takes control and brilliantly depicts one of two dream sequences in the movie. In it, the girl marries the young rock star and the two are relaxing in their cozy new home when at the window, the entire town shows up to congratulate them. The band plays and people cheer as their house (oddly) begins to roll away as if it were a train. The girl and her young rock star husband wave goodbye. Then, in one of the more depressing moments of the film, especially thanks to the fantastic acting by Jessika Lundberg as the girl, she looks through the camera and into the audience, confessing how lovely her dream was, and how kind all the people were, even those that didn’t know here. With a saddening hint at tears, she lets the viewer know that she knows people are never that kind. A man behind her suddenly pipes up and explains a dream he had in which he was flying over the town, waving to his mom and dad. She’s unimpressed by the man’s attempt to compare loveliness of dreams, but the motionless camera and unwavering demeanor of the characters beautifully illustrates the misunderstanding between the two. While the girl believes the man’s remark may very well have been off key and out of place, thinking that her own dream was far more important and thus keeping any further comments to herself, we know, as an audience, that even the man’s dream has a story and some intense emotion to it. Once again, “no one understands”, yet we all understand. You, The Living, in all its sadness, is one of the most hypnotic and dazzling films I’ve watched in a long time. If I could, and if it weren’t already February, I’d go back and edit my best of 2009 list, because as I said, this most definitely deserves a spot. The film opens with a quote from J. W. Goethe stating “Be pleased then, you living one, in your delightfully warmed bed, before Lethe’s ice cold wave will lick your escaping foot”. A theme like this is difficult to present in any manner. It is a simple reminder telling us to accept what we have and be grateful for it and be pleased by, before we have nothing left at all. Simple as it may be, however, and as many people who may agree with it, it takes a film like Andersson’s to truly illustrate how much we human beings disregard it. If You, The Living were to accomplish anything, I truly hope that it would force a bit of introspection on anyone who would otherwise write these characters off saying “oh, that’s not me”. Andersson has created characters that reflect each and every one of us in some small way, and that is truly something to celebrate. -William Gutheil

Monday Morning Review: ‘You, The Living’

I’m trying hard to start some more regular features on this blog. So far it’s mostly been news and trailers for upcoming films, and that’s great and all, but I feel like a more loyal following of readers comes with a more honest opinion, and I’ve scarcely expressed my opinions on this site. And so to start off something new, each week I’m gonna try to review one of the many films I watched over the weekend that I’m sure many of you (not all, I know there are a few cinephiles out there who are just as hard to please as me) have not seen or heard of in an attempt to expose readers to the darker side of cinema (as was my initial intention for the site). So be warned, many of the films I’ll review are, in fact, downright dark.

Over the weekend I finally had the chance to sit down and watch one of the films that’s been sitting in my queue for a while. It only came out last year in the states and frankly, I’m not sure why I didn’t watch it sooner. It most definitely would have made my top ten for 2009. Roy Andersson’s You, The Living is a sad film, make no mistake about it. Its characters are depressing, the lives they lead are mundane and insignificant, and the setting is dreary to say the least. The effect is something so brutally honest and oddly surreal and realistic at the same time that it becomes humorous to a point. It isn’t a film to laugh at with friends or family, but to laugh at under your breathe when you finally realize how true to life everything in it actually is. The entire film consists of about fifty different vignettes, portraying people as people, nothing more. It examines human beings in their most natural settings, hiding from the world, existing only within their comfort zones, each of them believing so fully in the conviction that their pain and suffering is unique. They complain, over and over again, about things that we have all known and felt, yet in their somewhat comical bouts of egocentric selfishness they still all confidently proclaim that “no one understands me”. The characters in the film would most certainly be obnoxious if it weren’t for Andersson’s overall sensibility to just laugh it off. He paints the film with dull pastel colors in an almost entirely static, portrait-esque camera. Throughout the course of the movie we see each vignette from either medium or long shots, and this enables Andersson to choreograph the actions and rearrange the mise-en-scene as the scene unfolds, presenting viewers with the chance to see everything that occurs within the frame. This is where the timing comes into play, and it’s completely impeccable. Characters enter and leave at exactly the right points, they call off screen to other characters, and at times look directly into the camera, addressing the audience itself. This makes the film one of the most personal experiences I’ve witnessed in a long time. The motionless camera plus the elements of the mise-en-scene place the viewer immediately within the scene, witnessing life as it happens before our eyes. And because of it’s unconventional style and technical aspects, it recalls earlier works by the surrealists such as Bunuel, who looked at life in a similar style; essentially through a human eye rather than a lens.

The ultimate revelation of You, The Living is that there really isn’t anything odd about it. It’s not a weird film by any means, yet we laugh and are uncomfortable because of what the medium is capable of revealing. A tuba player looks into the camera and explains to the audience how his bank screwed him over and how he’s lost 34 percent of his retirement fund. All the while, an overweight and generally unattractive woman rides on top of him, completely naked, wearing the man’s marching band hat, thrusting up and down, over and over, gaining intensity each time until the man finally professes to the audience “it’s really quite depressing”. It is extremely depressing, but Andersson’s flawless cinematic technique takes that burden off of our shoulders. Thanks to the films ability to realize all the things we feel, think, observe, and even dream in a way that’s tangible and on the surface, rather than hidden in our subconscious, it allows us to see the comedy of depression and human nature in general. A lonely young girl finally believes she’s found salvation upon meeting a local rock star at a bar. She quickly realizes that the one drink they shared was just that; one lonely drink. She holds on however, constantly exclaiming her love for the man, and how it could have been so good between them. Later in the film she shares with viewers a dream she had, at which point Andersson takes control and brilliantly depicts one of two dream sequences in the movie. In it, the girl marries the young rock star and the two are relaxing in their cozy new home when at the window, the entire town shows up to congratulate them. The band plays and people cheer as their house (oddly) begins to roll away as if it were a train. The girl and her young rock star husband wave goodbye. Then, in one of the more depressing moments of the film, especially thanks to the fantastic acting by Jessika Lundberg as the girl, she looks through the camera and into the audience, confessing how lovely her dream was, and how kind all the people were, even those that didn’t know here. With a saddening hint at tears, she lets the viewer know that she knows people are never that kind. A man behind her suddenly pipes up and explains a dream he had in which he was flying over the town, waving to his mom and dad. She’s unimpressed by the man’s attempt to compare loveliness of dreams, but the motionless camera and unwavering demeanor of the characters beautifully illustrates the misunderstanding between the two. While the girl believes the man’s remark may very well have been off key and out of place, thinking that her own dream was far more important and thus keeping any further comments to herself, we know, as an audience, that even the man’s dream has a story and some intense emotion to it. Once again, “no one understands”, yet we all understand.

You, The Living, in all its sadness, is one of the most hypnotic and dazzling films I’ve watched in a long time. If I could, and if it weren’t already February, I’d go back and edit my best of 2009 list, because as I said, this most definitely deserves a spot. The film opens with a quote from J. W. Goethe stating “Be pleased then, you living one, in your delightfully warmed bed, before Lethe’s ice cold wave will lick your escaping foot”. A theme like this is difficult to present in any manner. It is a simple reminder telling us to accept what we have and be grateful for it and be pleased by, before we have nothing left at all. Simple as it may be, however, and as many people who may agree with it, it takes a film like Andersson’s to truly illustrate how much we human beings disregard it. If You, The Living were to accomplish anything, I truly hope that it would force a bit of introspection on anyone who would otherwise write these characters off saying “oh, that’s not me”. Andersson has created characters that reflect each and every one of us in some small way, and that is truly something to celebrate.

-William Gutheil

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