National Post (National Edition)
Oddball Scandinavian horror film covers it all — dark, clever and confusing
Cast: Ylva Gallon, Leif Edlund Director: Johannes Nyholm
Duration: 1 h 29 m Available: On demand
Why on Earth didn't this tricky Scandinavian treat come out before Halloween? An oddball horror from Swedish writer-director Johannes Nyholm, Koko-di Koko-da is creepy and confusing, neither completely understandable nor forget-about-it illogical. It would have been the perfect addition to a lockdown All Hallows' Eve of streaming. It's either six days late or 359 early.
But first a word on the title. Although it's reminiscent of the Beatles song Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Koko-di Koko-da is actually the chorus of a Swedish nursery rhyme about a dead rooster. That may sound dark, but recall that Ring Around the Rosie is a plague ditty. And don't get me started on the architectural collapse prevention that is London Bridge.
Besides, if you wade into Koko-di Koko-da's bizarre storyline, you may wish that a dead rooster was the worst of it. It opens with Tobias and Elin (Leif Edlund, Ylva Gallon) on vacation in Denmark, where a tragedy befalls them. Cut to three years later, and the couple has clearly never recovered. Mutual hostility bubbles beneath the surface of their seemingly placid marriage.
So they decide to go camping, which is where the real weirdness sets in. Elin needs to leave the tent to pee, but while she's outside they are set upon by a trio of what look to be rejects from a travelling circus, led by an insanely grinning carnival barker and including two dogs, one living and the other dead.
The attack is terrifying enough, but when it ends the film cuts back to the tent and we witness it all over again. There are differences this time, however, including the fact that Tobias seems to have some vague memory of the previous event. We're in time-loop territory, though more in the vein of Happy Death Day than Groundhog Day. And truly much darker than either of those.
Koko-diKok o-d a premièred almost two years ago at the Sundance festival and has since been making its way around the world winning festival prizes and dividing critics. Montreal's Fantasia Fest 2019 gave it a prize “for its imaginative non-linear narrative and formal experimentation ... an invented folklore of live action and shadow-play.”
I didn't love the film — among other things, I'd have preferred more reaction from the central characters than variations on blind terror — but I appreciated it as a clever allegory for grief and mourning. And I'm grateful its central tune isn't better known in this part of the world, because I'm sure I'll shudder every time I hear it from now on.