We All Play a Part: Ruben Östlund's Involuntary (De ofrivilliga)

Involuntary (De ofrivilliga) is a brilliant and innovative film. In many ways it feels quite ordinary and often detached, as a great majority of the time we don't see the characters doing the talking. We see legs, the backs of heads, or we see the action from angles where we can't necessarily understand what's happening. In many instances the point of view feels clinical and unmoving, almost surveillance-like, or as if we're getting snippets from stationary camera home movies. Instead of being gimmicky, these obfuscations are handled with precision and expertise. Subtly these techniques always add something to the film and instead of being off putting, they keep us engaged in a deeper way. The film constantly keeps us guessing, and pulling us in.

The five separate stories follow one day, or less, in the lives of: a family celebrating a birthday together, two prototypical bubbleheaded teens getting into trouble, an elementary school teacher trying to do good, a group of men out for a weekend in the country who have a somewhat atypical bond, and a passenger bus en route to who knows where until a broken curtain rod stops the trip.

We don't necessarily become overwhelmed with character, or form, or anything initially in the film. This isn't a film with a plot per se, it's more a series of vignettes. The little moments we're shown don't seem build much character or event, but it is a deceptive process. Ostlund, instead of giving us characters, gives us something closer to character studies, where we become more involved in the behaviours of the characters than with their motivations toward some goal. This isn't to say that we aren't concerned with the characters, because there are many moving moments, it's just that the feelings we have for them are much more human and down to earth.

Ultimately, when the film really takes shape, all the disparate parts begin to have greater and greater impact, in their own little slice of the film, and in the world of the entire film itself. We begin to see the core that is at heart of the film. The effect on the viewer is one of culpability, and in a sense it reveals the weakness of our own assumptions. The film baits us with constant questions and dilemmas, some that resolve into a kind of human muck, where, really, we're much less amazing than we think we are. It's the kind of film that keeps one asking: "What would I do in that situation?" Often times it reveals many ugly and stupid choices that any of us make but wish not to acknowledge. Ostlund isn't preaching to us, though, for there is enough complexity and humour in the film to let us know, well, we're all fallible humans after all.

The last scene on the bus, with the only notable Swedish actor, Maria Lundqvist (playing herself), is absolutely priceless. A near perfect film. I can't recommend it highly enough.