12/15/17 - The Square (2017) - 7-/10

Boundary pushing diatribe on the role and explanation of art. It is slyly witty by peeling back those protective social layers of personal protections and curiously brushing the exposed flesh. It is provocative and unsettling, but never too discomforting. This is a broader exploration of the unspoken guidelines that dictate our behavior than his previous Force Majeure, satirically dancing with ideas of class, expression, and communal boundaries, rather than the delicacy of a marriage and its expectations/interpretations.

It slowly sucks in and sighs like an adept European drama. Letting us sit in the awkwardness and uncomfortably, but not eating away at our insides. There is a playfulness in the meditations on the banal, overlooked, and mundane. The examination on the awkwardness of human interactions and the breakdowns of the social contract was salient and rich. It is at times unsettling and absurdly wonderful, letting us revel in the humor and empathic tumult.

Technically, there are some deft flourishes (like the twisting stairwell ascension) and some solid blocking (I love the interplay of the “sex conversation” and the rumbling stack of chairs art exhibit), but Ostlund’s greatest skill is weaving those unique situations to let his actors carry the emotional/narrative burdens. Bang, Moss, and Laesso are quirkily engaging but strongly relatable. Bang especially brings the turmoil behind his eyes with each moment.

Ostlund had a billion ideas that he tried to address here, mostly with the play off of so many social intersections. The juxtapositions and questions of artistic and athletic fruition in cheer-leading competitions. The push and pull of performance, and whether boundaries are present. The delicacy of interpersonal relationships and how we are forever placing ourselves out there to be observed, praised, judged, and ultimately accepted as if we are moving art installations. And the barter between classism, moral obligation, and personal identity within our rigid societal microcosm. Plus, a chimp, turrets, and a used condom.

This is a passionate poke in the ribs and a queasily endearing comedy of the human and humane. Perhaps artsy and obtuse, despite being blatant. It never lost its verve or became didactic to me, maybe up until the final scene (I would argue the close to his films are always an oddly inert exhale). It is visceral and whimsical, while being so plain and unassuming. Special and biting and worthy of a gander if you want odd and euro artsy.