I can only hope to do writer/director Ruben Ostlund‘s Force Majeure justice within the confines of a review. It’s being marketed as “wickedly funny” and classified a “pscyhodrama” and when placed under a microscope requiring definition I guess that works. As for the title, it alludes to the guiding force of the film’s narrative. In this case beginning with a circumstance that befalls a Swedish family during their ski vacation in the French Alps, a situation that puts into question gender roles and puts a wealth of strain on the marriage of Tomas and his wife Ebba. To say it’s “wickedly funny” is not to necessarily suggest you’ll laugh out loud, but comes as a result of Ostlund’s dark sense of humor, his ability to laugh at human folly while also recognizing the uncomfortable darkness of the situation.
Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke) and Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) have brought their two children, Vera (Clara Wettergren) and Harry (Vincent Wettergren), to the French Alps for a five-day ski vacation. They’re going through the motions and there is clearly a small bit of tension, most of it focused on Tomas’ preoccupation with his cell phone. It doesn’t seem like anything too major, even they share a laugh about it at one point, but it’s like a scab that’s being picked at and pretty soon something is going to come along and rip it clean off. Lo and behold, that “something” arrives…
During an afternoon lunch, with the spectacular, snowy mountains in the background, an avalanche can be seen rolling down the mountain. “Is that safe?” Ebba asks. “Sure, it’s controlled,” Tomas says while recording the massive cloud of snow on his iPhone as it seems to be getting closer and closer to the point, suddenly, things don’t look so safe. “Daddy!” Harry yells, Tomas says it’s okay but suddenly decides that’s not the case. He reacts, grabs his gloves and phone, screams and runs for cover… leaving Ebba, Vera and Harry behind, a decision serving as the source of unrelenting tension throughout the rest of the film.
Taking that into consideration, Force Majeure isn’t instantly recognizable as anything resembling a comedy, and in order to see it as one, it’s not so much about looking deeper or changing your perspective. You’ll soon realize you’re looking at the absurdity of the human condition and the emotional trials we put ourselves and others through to achieve some semblance of “normalcy”.
To the point of finding this balance, this “normalcy”, there’s a scene were another couple — Mats (Kristofer Hivju) and Fanni (Fanni Metelius) — are having an argument in the hallway, spurred by something she said, something she believed to be an innocent statement, but he took as challenging his masculinity. Later they’re seen laying in bed and Mats is visibly upset, running through the conversation in his head while Fanni has clearly moved on. She asks, “What’s wrong?” He says, “Nothing,” and while the conversation goes on much longer from here it’s his saying “Nothing” that I focused on more than anything. She knows what’s wrong and yet she asks. He knows she knows something is wrong and yet he says “Nothing”. It’s absurd, and yet, it’s a situation every single one of us has been in before. He says “Nothing” because he either doesn’t want to fight or seem weak and petty, and she asks what’s wrong because she knows he’ll likely say, “Nothing” and she can roll over and fall asleep comfortably. Tomorrow’s another day and all will be fine until it’s not. It’s a simplified version of the growing spat between Tomas and Ebba, and it’s beautiful in its simplicity.
To that point, Force Majeure, from a filmmaking perspective, is a truly beautiful piece of cinema. Ostlund isn’t one for my cuts, many scenes keeping the camera stationary for the duration, occasionally slowly pushing in as the drama unfolds. This is the main reason this film can both exist as something of a comedy while also remaining very much a tension-filled drama. Additionally, some of the images captured by cinematographer Fredrik Wenzel are stunning, one specific overhead shot of the snowy mountain — pure white on one half and just slightly darker on the right as two figures walk along the edge — is almost painterly.
Then there’s the music, which bleeds into the overall inspiration for several scenes. Heard throughout the feature is Vivaldi’s “Summer” and the source comes from a 12-year-old playing an accordion that Ostlund found on YouTube. Several other scenes were inspired by scenarios found on YouTube as Ostlund said in an interview, “[E]very time I have a scene where I think there could be a reference on YouTube, I will Google it and see.”
Knowing Ostlund’s source material for some of these scenes seems almost like cheating, but at the same time it adds a layer of reality to the entire production. It allows you to laugh a little more at the domestic horror on screen. As Tomas weeps before Ebba, it’s a display that seems manufactured, particularly after she called him out on it only minutes prior. Yet, you see the inspiration for the scene and all bets are off, though the clear lack of respect you have for Tomas in that given moment only escalates.
Ostlund has crafted a sly look at human nature and our desire to ignore that which makes us ashamed, which in some cases is to ignore our basic, human instincts, something that’s, in many cases, out of our control. Thus the title, thus the humor and you add that to a film so expertly crafted you’ll be at odds with your emotions as you find yourself laughing in horror.
