The chronicles of four years in the life of Julie, a young woman who navigates the troubled waters of her love life and struggles to find her career path, leading her to take a realistic look at who she really is.
Filmmaker Joachim Trier has already proved himself as a versatile artist, attuned to the subtleties of the human experience, with films like “Louder Than Bombs” and “Thelma,” yet nothing could prepare one for the emotional kaleidoscope that is his latest feature, “The Worst Person in the World.” A deft combination of romantic comedy and drama, this character study/coming-of-age tale starts off as one thing and ends as another, maturing with its formidable protagonist. If the filmmaker resorts to one of my least favorite cinematic clichés — the terminal illness subplot — in the film’s latter half, he cunningly uses it not (only) to squeeze tears but to emphasize the emotional trajectory of the central character.
Julie (Renate Reinsve) is approaching 30. The film follows her trials and tribulations as she experiences, well, life in all its complexity: she meets a much older man, famous comic book artist Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie); realizes that their generational differences may be too much for her; embarks on a journey of not-quite-infidelity; faces real trauma that makes her grow up. If that sounds bland, it’s anything but, Trier’s assurance and clear affection for his characters guiding the viewer to the heartbreaking — but also oddly uplifting — final note.
Reinsve is absolutely magnetic, appearing in nearly every sequence and holding the viewer rapt. By turns charming and eloquent, insecure and lunkheaded, passionate and cold, the actress ignites the screen, making one feel for her despite some questionable choices. After all, who doesn’t make questionable choices in their 20s? Anders Danielsen Lie plays another complex character, impatient and patronizing, but also sensitive and wise.
Split into a dozen chapters, with a prologue and an epilogue, “The Worst Person in the World” begins as a lighthearted comedy and ends on a rather somber note, but the transition is smooth, greatly aided by one superb sequence after another. A prolonged break-up marks one of the highlights, as does an idyllic not-quite-cheating episode, or a mushroom trip that involves Aksel’s comic book character, a Felix the Cat-like feline, going berserk.
Trier’s film is about aging, about the inevitability of death, but also about the joy of life, the miracle that is its every moment. It touches upon the legitimacy and commercialization of art and delves into sexual politics: the #MeToo movement, man(and woman)splaining, the pressure of having children, the general mounting pressure a contemporary woman experiences as she ages, especially from an older man. None of it feels forced, Trier and his crew effortlessly dissenting challenging subjects. If the film’s extended length, along with the maudlin cancer sub-plot, prevent it from being a full-fledged masterpiece, it still says more in one effervescent scene than a dozen run-of-the-mill Hollywood features.
Opens in NY and LA on Friday, Feb. 4th, then expands nationwide Friday, Feb. 11th
