The Worst Person in the World
Finally someone has made the perfect film for me, as if they've studied my life thus far and incorporated all the love, suffering, and everything in between into one adult, humane, existential examination of a person via a small collection of experiences that help shape a life. First, it helps that Trier is aiming his narrative at my demographic, the older-half of millennials in their early 30s who have coasted into indecisiveness through a cultural shift that prioritizes agency limitlessly yet without the support of ideological customs to retain stability, also known as the 'new' developmental stage of "emerging adulthood." However, Trier also understands human behavior so well that he rejects any rigid prognosis of a person's worth based on their phase of development and reactiveness within relationships at any given phase of life, affirming the philosophy that relationships are all about making a choice to keep 'signing up' with your partner. He understands that people are allowed to change their minds at different stages and aren’t always (or often) at the same readiness, or place, as their romantic partner. The ironies and coincidences many of us have experienced are on display, as we encounter past lovers who have changed their minds about kids or marriage, etc. There is a deep meditation on that grey area when you maybe don't make choices or you run from problems because of fear or avoidance or a society that reinforces individuality away from institutional expectations, or maybe because sometimes it’s the
right choice to give yourself space to trust feelings and wait until you’re ready.
Julie is a feeler. A partner might combat her desire to escape with logic, but that isn't the language Julie speaks. She trusts her gut. However, I think about all the times I trusted my gut- sometimes they were right, and sometimes, when I worked through that discomfort and remained in a relationship, I fell in love deeper. Still, that's not always where Julie is at, and she needs to live her life to develop skillsets. That she can't ignore a feeling is not a fault alone, but is presented as both a flaw and admirable quality; it's the type of individualism that is taught, learned, felt, and vigorously liberating yet consequentially tragic. Julie doesn't deceive, she's honest (mostly), but anyone who chastises her for her morally-grey behavior should look deeper into themselves; we don't stay static, we change our minds. Our hearts change too. The important aspect of this film is that Julie is not a "bad" person, certainly not the "worst" -a title I can only imagine stems from the narcissistic self-criticism we assign to ourselves, but that thankfully is not overstated here. The is a film that cherry picks several significant social encounters (in 12 chapters, with a prologue and epilogue that, amusingly, offset each other via a movement from youthful overexplanation into sage restraint signifying to the beginnings of self-actualization), and believes all these experiences have value and are divorced from moral judgment.
The film is also very funny, yet the humor almost always stems from authentic dialog that people would really say to collectively cope with something unhumorous (aside from some incredible commentaries on several modern zeitgeists, which are pitch-perfect). There is a scene containing the most realistic breakup I may have ever seen, and it's not a heavy-handed screamer. Trier's camera pays ultra-sensitive attention to 'feeling' too - and not only Julie's; in one brief scene, we go from watching a character listening to music to becoming inebriated as a surrogate for his perspective, and the camera movements and editing thrive with the exact vivacious energy he's feeling. This may appear to be a subtle, throw-away exhibition, but Trier utilizes the possibilities of the medium to convey unconditional appreciation for all the small life-affirming moments that are really everything to us in the end. The versatile director even finds a way to use his knack for visual creativity and set design found in
Thelma's supernatural aesthetics in a sharp left-turn during a wild night that I won't spoil here, but is a surprising highlight of this already-eclectically genius film.
The philosophical approach asks questions that only layers our personal worth through humanistic respect; that we are the keepers of our memories, that we matter to others and are granted additional complexity we don't even know we have, or feel we deserve in the memories of another; that as meaningful as these experiences are, they are fleeting, losses are inevitable, and that fear infecting us is a condition we must endure alone. At least sometimes. Trier has so much to say about the power of social intimacy, and not only from sexual relationships but from our capacity to lift another's spirits by just being 'us' around them, growing apart and together, but bound to our exposure to others, and theirs to us. Our image is not only valuable as a self-image, and this is perhaps where the film is most directed at more mature audiences. Our image is created by a collage of how others see us, our relationship to that image, and we build our identity around a swirl of personal values, growth, and inevitably (and graciously) the collective experiences we have with significant others, who tell us and show us and teach us about ourselves.
Renate Reinsve is majestic enough to carry the film independently, and should have a lustrous career after more people in the biz see her as a new star born, though Anders Danielsen Lie may also give his best perf (high praise after his own raw, star-making role in an earlier Trier work) for thriving on the intricate, diverse shades of characterization he gets to work with over the course of the narrative. Oh, and I can't remember the last time a soundtrack popped this much. The dark quasi-romantic dramedy, if you can even pin it down into
that jack-of-all-trades categorization, is an amalgamation of every accessible cinematic intervention aimed at dignifying a human life, repackaged into a candied treat that burns a tad on the way down before new flavors blossom in a serene aftertaste. It's sad, it's hilarious, it's empowering, and, most importantly, it's true. It's also a film I plan to watch for the rest of my life.
Thrilled to see
The Worst Person in the World pick up International Film- it's definitely the kind of film I see going the distance all the way to an Oscar
