Sad, sweet and sublime late masterpiece from a giant of arthouse cinema
Dir Roy Andersson Starring Jessica Louthander (voice), Martin Serner, Tatiana Delaunay, Anders Hellström, Jan-eje Ferling, Bengt Bergius, Thore Flygel
In March 1996, the Swedish director Roy Andersson started work on the first part of what would become his career-defining project. This series of three films, the Living Trilogy, were like nothing the movies had yet come up with: a series of meticulously composed absurdist comic sketches
that found overwhelming beauty and sorrow in the beige-toned tedium of ordinary life. His style is utterly distinctive, entirely self-enclosed and incredibly hard to pin down. Jacques Tati and Samuel Beckett are often cited as artistic kindred spirits.
His work seems to have been beamed from a parallel universe where Ingmar Bergman directed Chucklevision and Edward Hopper drew cartoons for Viz. The final instalment of the trilogy, A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 2014. This year, Andersson, now 76 years old, has returned to the Lido with a (perhaps not coincidentally) 76-minute postscript.
About Endlessness is a return to familiar ground – although its sketches are briefer, its jokes a little harder to pin down, its juxtapositions more elusive. There are a handful of recurring characters, including a middle-aged man (Jan-eje Ferling) who becomes irritated by an old schoolfriend’s newfound academic success, and a priest (Martin Serner) who dreams of being crucified by his congregation, after doubting God’s existence. In a scene that plays like an old Jewish joke, the priest goes to his doctor and begs him to identify the cause of this late-life crisis of faith. “Could it be that God doesn’t actually exist?” the doctor calmly suggests.
All but one of its scenes unfold in the classic Anderssonian style: in a single, static shot on one of his signature trompe-l’oeil sets, where miniatures, green screen, forced perspective and invisible digital effects are used to make entire cityscapes appear in hyperlucid focus. The exception is a shot of an embracing couple soaring above the ruins of wartime Cologne, during which Andersson throws all caution to the wind and tracks his camera slightly to the left.
He remains a master of composition, subtly guiding your eye towards details that reveal the kind of stories we might usually overlook – in life as well as in film. A waiter uncorks a bottle of wine with great ceremony, then spills it all. A man ties his daughter’s shoelace in a downpour. Hitler shuffles through his bunker while blind-drunk lieutenants struggle to salute. A man enjoys watching his date enjoy her first sip of champagne. Customers in another, busier bar watch snow settle outside while the radio plays Silent Night. “Isn’t it quite fantastic?” one marvels. “What?” says another. “Everything,” he replies. “I think so, at least.” Watching a film this sad and sweet and altogether sublime, it’s hard to disagree.
UK release date yet to be confirmed