Advancing on the characteristic approach and satirical thematic concerns of director Roy Andersson's previous film, the excellent Songs from the Second Floor (2000), You, The Living (2007) presents to us yet another vaguely tortured, darkly-comic look into the failures of human existence; with an ironic juxtaposition between the presentation of both content and form that is disarming to say the least. Unlike his previous film, the themes of You, The Living are much less enigmatic and oblique. There is also a greater sense of structure here; and although the whole thing can be interpreted as a prolonged nightmare (or a dream of social dissatisfaction), the ultimate realisation of that final scene - which stresses subtly and a cruel sense of humour - makes the socio-political message of the film much clearer and more relevant than any of Andersson's work since the AIDs related short-feature, Something Has Happened (1987). Again, it can be seen as an extension of the director's background in commercial advertising, with any awareness of even a handful of his often fantastic TV commercials establishing his trademark use of deliberately static tableau, filled with an impeccably rich attention to mise-en-scene, and a genuinely impressive use of bold, comic-timing.
This, of course, shouldn't really come as a surprise; throughout his career - stretching as far back as even his second feature film, the critical and financial failure Giliap (1975) - Andersson has used elements of cruel, social-satire to draw on the notion of human fragility, and often in the attempt to mine an almost absurd comedy of errors motif that seemingly grows from routine, everyday-like misadventures, into full-blown comic-tragedies. At its most simplistic, his work could be interpreted as a series of sketches that attempt to parody the seeming futility of everyday existence in such a way as to find humour and hope in even the most despairing of situations. The aesthetic then is to document the harsh-realities of the world in the form of an ironic stylisation - once again capturing despair, loneliness and alienation with all of the designer gloss of an IKEA commercial - with the sly implication that modern consumer society wants us to aspire to the level of middle-aged suicide, alcoholism and tragic desperation being close to genius in its presentation. Nonetheless, there is much more to the film than such a glib description might suggest; with Andersson structuring these scenes in order to show the escalating sense of desperation, selfishness, worthlessness and self-pity of these bemused and befuddled characters, as their shallow hopes and dreams are exposed against a literal, last-minute offering of swift, apocalyptic despair.
As ever with Andersson, the design of the film is rich and exquisite from one scene to the next, with the director and his crew going to great lengths to create these locations (including all but one of the exterior shots) on the sound-stages of Andersson's Studio 24. Even though the world of the film is plausible to the point that we forgot the film was even shot in a studio, there still remains a continual off-kilter quality of wily exaggeration that becomes more and more notable as the film progresses. This sense of creative abstraction finally achieves its full potential during an apparent dream-sequence; in which a house moves through the countryside on a railroad track before finally pulling into a local train station to the cheers of the supporting cast. It perfectly captures the bleakly beautiful spirit of the film and the depth of Andersson's imagination as a filmmaker, here at the height of his creative abilities. Once again, we can argue the merits and the meaning of the film as we did with the more obviously downbeat Songs from the Second Floor, seeing it as either a stark, Godardian satire on the nature of consumerism and a comment on how the wheels of everyday existence conspire to grind us into place, or as a work of high-concept design intended to parody the slow grind of everyday existence - and the even greater weaknesses and despair - hidden beneath the already drab facade of day to day life.
Unfortunately, many will no doubt see the film as plot less or formless even, and, to an extent, it is. However, there is a real meaning here that is expressed through images that - even in spite of Andersson's ironic detachment and occasional mocking of his own characters and the directions they follow - offer us a number of moments that are emotionally affecting, and indeed, entirely memorable. Regardless of such interpretations - which are ultimately there for the individual to discover and interpret by themselves - the film works as a result of its keen sense of humour - which is continually dark and again reminiscent of the work of Aki Kaurismäki; in particular films like Hamlet Goes Business (1987) and The Man Without a Past (2002) - and of course, Andersson's uniquely defiant and immediately iconic style. As with "Songs" (and indeed, all of Andersson's work over the course of the last twenty-years) the episodic nature of the film can be a strain at first; however, it is worth sticking with, as the more obvious characters soon become apparent and their individual strands of the narrative become compelling in an oddly affecting way.
This, of course, shouldn't really come as a surprise; throughout his career - stretching as far back as even his second feature film, the critical and financial failure Giliap (1975) - Andersson has used elements of cruel, social-satire to draw on the notion of human fragility, and often in the attempt to mine an almost absurd comedy of errors motif that seemingly grows from routine, everyday-like misadventures, into full-blown comic-tragedies. At its most simplistic, his work could be interpreted as a series of sketches that attempt to parody the seeming futility of everyday existence in such a way as to find humour and hope in even the most despairing of situations. The aesthetic then is to document the harsh-realities of the world in the form of an ironic stylisation - once again capturing despair, loneliness and alienation with all of the designer gloss of an IKEA commercial - with the sly implication that modern consumer society wants us to aspire to the level of middle-aged suicide, alcoholism and tragic desperation being close to genius in its presentation. Nonetheless, there is much more to the film than such a glib description might suggest; with Andersson structuring these scenes in order to show the escalating sense of desperation, selfishness, worthlessness and self-pity of these bemused and befuddled characters, as their shallow hopes and dreams are exposed against a literal, last-minute offering of swift, apocalyptic despair.
As ever with Andersson, the design of the film is rich and exquisite from one scene to the next, with the director and his crew going to great lengths to create these locations (including all but one of the exterior shots) on the sound-stages of Andersson's Studio 24. Even though the world of the film is plausible to the point that we forgot the film was even shot in a studio, there still remains a continual off-kilter quality of wily exaggeration that becomes more and more notable as the film progresses. This sense of creative abstraction finally achieves its full potential during an apparent dream-sequence; in which a house moves through the countryside on a railroad track before finally pulling into a local train station to the cheers of the supporting cast. It perfectly captures the bleakly beautiful spirit of the film and the depth of Andersson's imagination as a filmmaker, here at the height of his creative abilities. Once again, we can argue the merits and the meaning of the film as we did with the more obviously downbeat Songs from the Second Floor, seeing it as either a stark, Godardian satire on the nature of consumerism and a comment on how the wheels of everyday existence conspire to grind us into place, or as a work of high-concept design intended to parody the slow grind of everyday existence - and the even greater weaknesses and despair - hidden beneath the already drab facade of day to day life.
Unfortunately, many will no doubt see the film as plot less or formless even, and, to an extent, it is. However, there is a real meaning here that is expressed through images that - even in spite of Andersson's ironic detachment and occasional mocking of his own characters and the directions they follow - offer us a number of moments that are emotionally affecting, and indeed, entirely memorable. Regardless of such interpretations - which are ultimately there for the individual to discover and interpret by themselves - the film works as a result of its keen sense of humour - which is continually dark and again reminiscent of the work of Aki Kaurismäki; in particular films like Hamlet Goes Business (1987) and The Man Without a Past (2002) - and of course, Andersson's uniquely defiant and immediately iconic style. As with "Songs" (and indeed, all of Andersson's work over the course of the last twenty-years) the episodic nature of the film can be a strain at first; however, it is worth sticking with, as the more obvious characters soon become apparent and their individual strands of the narrative become compelling in an oddly affecting way.