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Thoughts : The Worst Person in the World (2021)

Love, more than likely due to its volatile and explosive nature, has been a staple of film since its inception.  From The May Irwin Kiss of 1896 right down to 2022′s Three Thousand Years of Longing, you can bet that each passing year, generational and cultural shift brings with it scores of new cinematic perspectives on nature’s intoxicating drug.  As an artist, I’ve even found myself personally enamored with the subject... back in 2013, on a song called practicing to come undone, I found myself vocalizing the line ‘trail of destruction in the wake of seduction’.  At the time, I had a clear idea what that line was in reference to, and what it meant to me on the whole, but never would I ever have thought that nearly ten years down the road, a movie would embody this thought in a truly elegant manner.  After a year of waiting, and thanks to the streaming services Mubi and Hulu, I finally made the connection in the form of seeing The Worst Person in the World.

Flights of fancy and whimsy are easily identifiable characteristics of young folks, and Julie exudes these qualities in spades, with the prologue of the film solely dedicated to explaining to us how Julie is equal parts passionate about any given stimulus and wholly able to disconnect from said passion as she dives all in to a new one.  This seeming lack of impulse control, not to mention a deeply self-centered and self-serving view of romance, education and the world in general, become foundational characteristics for Julie and our journey with her.  In turn, the journey sets itself up to be a cautionary tale, with Julie’s signature fast-tracked intimacy (in all of its ugly beauty), her ability to fall in and out of love like bungee jumping, and her extremely toxic habit of pushing men out of their comfort zone as a personal connection mechanism all standing as clear indicators of Julie’s confounding ability to be as bad a person as she is an attractive one with a beautiful spirit.  Her cycle of dealing with men is given plenty of examination, be it with her wanting what she can’t (and shouldn’t) have with Aksel, seeking an excuse for disconnection via Eivind, or the way she reverts to a submissive child in the presence of her father.

The 12-chapter presentation, complete with prologue and epilogue, is a wonderful narrative device, especially in the way that Joachim Trier empliments it throughout The Worst Person in the World.  Initially, I assumed that the 12-chapter layout was a clever way of masking some sort of 12-step approach to personal redemption, but in actuality, it stands more so as clear-cut dividers for the many visual, tonal and emotional shifts we are presented with.  Julie stands as a symbol of youthful idealism in the face of world-weary experience, and while she does not let this opposition break her spirit, it certainly shapes her outlook and perspective, though the ending puts much of this growth into question.  Julie also presents us with a refreshing look at sexual enlightenment and balancing... while she does represent a fiercely feminist stance in the face of the patriarchy and societal norms, her path is not romanticized or absent of turmoil and self-induced stress.  I really enjoyed Julie’s outlook, problematic nature and all, as it often forced me to take a moment and examine my reaction to her stances... her infatuation with men at ‘half-mast’ made me wonder about the roots and expectations of her power fantasies, while her awareness of her generational and general womanhood lineage did let me know that there was intention in her actions, even if it is questionable at best.  Ironically, or perhaps cleverly, the most interesting moment (and seeming thesis statement of the entire film) came via Aksel and a contentious interview he partook in, particularly in the way that we momentarily stand firmly in the position of Julie rather than beside her.  

For all of the work and effort that goes into The Worst Person in the World‘s narrative and character work, one should not overlook the stunning technical achievements of Joachim Trier and company.  The non-linear storytelling works well because, while not chronological in terms of time, it is very much logically chronological, with information and experiences presented at just the right points in the narrative to make you second guess and reassess your initial assumptions of any given situation.  Both the cinematography and music cues (scoring and soundtrack) work together to take the viewer on a rollercoaster of subliminal emotions, starting with such portrait-esque, naturally lit joy that it puts the viewer in a perfect position to take the multiple aesthetic destination-filled plunge.  There are plenty of instances where physical distance and various barriers serve as simple but palatable symbols of rising conflict, immediately clueing viewers in to Julie’s feelings towards Aksel and Eivind.  Comparitively, sequences like the citywide freeze and the drug trip clue us in directly to Julie’s deeper desires, emotions and trauma, while also bolstering and catapulting Julie into her numerous life-altering decisions.  As we reach the final chapters, the sudden narration that appears works as a disassociate element that symbolizes the way Julie attempts to distance herself from the responsibility and consequences of her romantic choices.

Renate Reinsve brings her everything to the role of Julie, serving as a lustful and reckless fly in the romantic ointment, reveling in all the drama and fallout of her actions like a 5-D chess player.  Her ability to push emotions like osmosis onto the viewer is powerful, which makes the casual contrarian nature of her Julie portrayal so much more visceral and confounding as we take the journey of awareness with her.  As for her romantic foils, Anders Danielsen’s Aksel is the perfect initial yang to the yin of Julie, with his calm, thoughtful and sweet nature offsetting her emotional recklessness, which in turn forces him to display a cautious but honest shield in order to defend himself from her onslaught.  In contrast, Herbert Nordrum plays Eivind as a timid loner who is clearly full of longing and internal turmoil and trying his best not to fall to Julie’s temptation, with his journey to enlightenment lining up perfectly with Julie’s blind cannonballing towards her own skewed version of personal awareness.  As for parental influence, Marianne Krogh and Vidar Sandem make a perfectly bittersweet tandem tug of war for Julie, with Krogh’s passive affirmations enabling Reinsve’s Julie choices, and Sandem’s passive aggressiveness forcing Julie to acquiesce and tuck her power in.  Supporting appearances by Marina Grazia Di Meo, Sofia Schandy Bloch, Gisle Tveito, Hans Olav Brenner, Anna Dworak and numerous others bring various textures of sensitivity and tension to The Worst Person in the World.

Perhaps the best aspect of The Worst Person in the World is its ability to provide viewers with a fair and honest look at lonely people and the way they navigate amongst one another without having to sacrifice the joy and heightened experience that comes with cinema.  In many ways, the film feels like a spiritual successor to Un femme est un femme that still manages to reach the uncomfortable and traumatizing lows of a film like Scenes from a Marriage without feeling like an entirely new experience.  If nothing else, I can thank The Worst Person in the World for introducing the term “intellectual Viagra” to my lexicon.  If you’re looking for an engaging movie about a terribly dysfunctional person, look no further than this Joachim Trier homerun of a movie.