Where are we humans going? A film poem inspired by the Peruvian poet César Vallejo. We meet people in the city. People trying to communicate, searching compassion and get the connection of small and large things.
Bengt C.W. Carlsson
After witnessing an act of unprecedented violence without even flinching, an emotionally numb real-estate agent visits his ailing mother at the hospital, and then, the graveyard. Is there a speck of happiness in this cruel and short life?
In a minor town the morose manager is primarily responsible for the bad atmosphere of a restaurant. But central for the plot are three persons: a male waiter who is never named (here called... See full summary »
In ABOUT ENDLESSNESS we are guided through the world by the soft voice of a woman. It is a sort of fairy voice, a Scheherazade telling us the eternal story of the lives and endeavour of ... See full summary »
A series of scenes that focus specially on a single idea, emotion or act us. In the absence of interfering qualities this film is able to take one factoring influence and amplify it to absurd and hilarious proportions. Each scene gives us an uninterrupted view at some of the more unglamorous characteristics that in the end determine who we are, both as individuals and as a thread in the patchwork of the collective human unconscious.Written by
Shooting started in 2003 and had to be closed down twice due to need of more funding. See more »
Serving non-alcoholic beer with food that smells so good. It's torture!
I only want what's best for you.
Best! Is this what's best for me? Enduring this damned existance... with all the shit and deceit and wickedness and staying sober? How can you expect or even want a single poor bugger to put up with it without being drunk? It's inhuman. Only a sadist would demand that.
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There's an endless fascination about where the film wants to take us
The large bell in a bar intermittently rings for last orders and the inevitable rush to queue forms at the counter do we want what we need only when it's too late? Or is the irony of the opening scene's wailing Cassandra a more resonant reflection of our perceptions on individual existence? There's an endless fascination about where writer-director Roy Andersson wants to take us in his fourth feature, "You, The Living". With fifty or so semi-related vignettes strung together by a penchant for tragicomic hyper-reality, its wistful interpretations and symbolic instances of life that bind us all in this great big cosmic Sisyphean struggle. The sheer simplicity of these vignettes act to dramatise the tenuity and immense preciousness of being apart of the symbiotic relationships we have with one another. Andersson might whittle down the complexity of the human condition through harsh and fast cynicism more than he should, but he also reminds us of the inherent, reassuring glory of waking up each morning to a new tomorrow when we're all aware of our own distinct forms of arrested development.
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