A Human Position

Some of the longest shots in cinema history, totally static, showing, among others, pictoresque views of the city of Aalesund (I think), Norway. Asta, the protagonist, is a journalist in a local newspaper; her girlfriend (I couldn't catch her name) is just a chair-collector, and nothing else (yes, you heard me: she collects and refurbishes chairs) and a bad musician who practices and creates on a little-more-than-toy keyboard. Sitting on a chair, the two elucubrate, is a thing only humans do, it's a "human position". They fail to note that even watching films is something only humans do (though, I must say, sometimes the cat I'm living with shows some interest in the TV screen). Speaking of cats, their cat is present in almost all the interior shots. But some issues are at stake. First of all, Asta is recovering from a wound in her belly, whose origin is mysterious. Then there is the question: what is Norway best at, its mountains or its wellfare state? And there is the problem of an asylum seeker, who, after many years is sent back home. Will any of the issues eventually find an explanation? None.

Billed by some as "a love letter to the banality of life," this utterly pointless offering could just as easily be billed as "a love letter to the banality of pretentiously esoteric filmmaking." Writer-director Anders Emblem's second feature follows the life (if you can call it that) of a bored journalist living in the Norwegian seaport of Alesund, reporting mostly on fluff pieces and minor news stories. She lives a reasonably comfortable life with her girlfriend while recovering from an undisclosed medical procedure, spending much of her free time refurbishing chairs, doting on her cat and playing board (or is it bored?) games. But, when she stumbles upon a story involving the unexplained disappearance of a foreign asylum seeker, her work gives her life new meaning - or so the film's production notes claim. The fact is, there's really no telling that anything has changed with this revelation, given that the picture's tone and style remain just as flat and uninteresting at this juncture as they do at the outset and throughout the entire duration of this tedious slog. The protagonist's deadpan performance is a genuine snooze, and the film's countless overlong incidental exterior shots supply enough cinematic padding to try the patience of even the most tolerant viewer. But, above all, given how banal real life truly can be, do we honestly need a longwinded cinematic tribute to it? This one is easily skipped - a phenomenal waste of time, energy, talent and celluloid. Don't waste yours watching this.