Some 85 films were submitted for consideration for the 2017 best foreign language Oscar. Sweden’s entry, A Man Called Ove, made the final shortlist of five before losing out to Iran’s The Salesman. The other 80 must have been appalling if the Hannes Holm-helmed dramedy was seen as one of the best of the year (Julieta, Elle, Neruda, My Life as a Zucchini are just a few that failed to make that final five).
Lonely, grumpy widower Rolf Lassgard (After the Wedding, The Hunters) learns to smile again after a new family moves into the neighbourhood. Off-kilter humour early on gives way to crowd pleasing tosh, resulting in disjointed comedic sentimentality. Deeply unimpressed.
I would like the two hours of my life spent watching this pretentious claptrap back.
Bizarre, overtly stylised, heavily staged, muted tones – a series of vaguely connected vignettes (some only seconds long) loosely exploring ethics and morality. Banal, nonsensical, annoying – the jury at the 2014 Venice Film Festival deserve to be served up in b’stilla (Moroccan pigeon pie) in awarding this the Golden Lion.
Sweden’s entry into the race for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar – and apparently one of the favourites. Not wholly convinced.
The main problem is that the arguments within the film peter out into nothingness and feel unresolved – which is a pity as for the first two thirds of its two hours, it’s deft, provocative and uncompromising in exploring the expectations behind masculinity and parenting.
And the location – high in the French Alps – is beautiful.