Songs From the Second Floor (2000)

Songs From the Second Floor

Embedded somewhere in Andersson's mind-boggling, deadpan "Songs" is a satire aimed at religion, politics, careerism, and the terrifying emptiness of office life. Imagine an Ingmar Bergman film directed by David Lynch and you have some inkling of just how surreal this exercise in gloomy comic absurdity gets. Swedish director Andersson might be giving us a glimpse of society's end, especially with his haunting final shot, but his razor-sharp sense of humor make these Nordic "Songs" more than a one-note adventure in Kafkaesque futility. July 25, 2007

Swedes can be funny, too....

I remember seeing a preview of this film on Ebert and Roeper's show, and the clip they showed was so mesmerzing and unique (it reminded me of Fellini) that I kept an eye out for it (for the record, Roger and Richard recommended the film highly). It finally appeared about six months later, and I went with great enthusiasm. The film exceeded my expectations expotentially. The audience for the film looked a little bit conservative at first, but after the film started, they were rolling in the aisles and no one left. This is a truly amazing piece of work.

It's alternately sad, funny, sacreligious, and beautiful. It's filmed in brilliantly choreographed long takes (where the camera is usually stationary, but the detail of the framing is immaculate). Many have called this a cross between Ingmar Bergman and Monty Python. I would toss in a little Luis Bunuel, and that's an approximation of this film. It's a very dark film, but it's also darkly hilarious, and every scene is so incredibly well done that the whole film burns into your brain. The director, Roy Andersson, has only made a handful of feature films, but he is extremely well known in the advertising world for his hilarious commercials (which are done in the style in this film). There are so many great scenes, but my favorite scenes have to be the scenes with Christ (especially when a Jesus figure is swinging from the cross...it's hysterical and so incredibly sacreligious). The church is the main target of a lot of the satire here, but the film goes further than just "the church is greedy and corrupt" message that permeates many films today. Politicians and humanity in general are other notable targets. This is a great film, one of the most unique that I've ever seen (and I've seen quite a lot of films).

March 10, 2007

somewhere between kafka and monty python

this is a crazy and hilarious piece of work.. wow.. the dialogue the visuals.. this is a nice portrait of our 'modern world'.. I just love this comedy.. and at the same time it is so relevant and disturbing.. watch for the crosses at the end.. January 29, 2007

Very Striking

Let me begin by saying this is one of the most striking films I have managed to catch in a while and that, for that reason alone, film buffs will not want to miss it. It has an attention to detail that is rarely found, and makes repeated viewings worthwhile However, even for those who are not necessarily interested in "artsy" films, there are still good reasons to see this film.

One reviewer below notes that, having listened to the director's commentary about the symbolic meaning of much of what is going on in the film, that this reduces it to being "marginally interesting". There's a great deal of truth in this, and makes for an excellent reason not to listen to the director's commentary, especially as a creator's intentions may not always provide the best insight into a work. Sometimes a work can be greater, or the effect can be meaningful in ways that a director or writer may not realize. For example, there are a number of images in the film about the indifferent powers-that-be, who are so heartless at one point as to actually sacrifice a girl in a superstitious ritual to try to save their failing world; in another, at a business meeting, a gypsy fortune-teller passes around a crystal ball. To reduce this to merely a commentary on specific current Swedish social policies threatens to remove the relevance of the image for all of us in industrialized nations.

Whatever the case of this, the primary reason to see this movie is for its very striking images, and the specific content of each scene. In each (with one exception), the camera never moves; there are no cuts (except between scenes), no shifts of perspective. One watches each scene from a single point of view always. This is hardly noticeable at first, if at all, because the action very much "fills the frame" set by the motionless camera. Moreover, because the camera does not move, the director sets up each shot so there is tremendous depth to it, going far into the distance. He utilizes this depth brilliantly, and this helps to keep the film "moving".

For example, at one point a father and son are visiting another son in a mental hospital. The "crazy" poet-son sits in the extreme foreground; his brother mulls on the right nearby, and the father is behind them both, delivering a monologue. On the left, stands a psychologist in a white doctor's coat with a clipboard, looking uncertain and confused. The setting is a long, long hallway, with two archways, painted in white and a faint shade of beige or yellow (I'm trying to remember the color from memory). As the father's monologue continues, from the very end of the hallway, a man in a dark blue shirt walks up with two more orderlies. Paying no attention to the father or his son, the man in the blue shirt says to the doctor, "What did I tell you about my lab coat? Give it back," or something like that. Suddenly, you realize that the "doctor" is actually a mental patient. He resists, and the orderlies must wrestle the coat off of him, then walk off with the man in the blue shirt.

This is what reviewers mean by quirky (I assume), this sudden shift of expectations--from "doctor" to "crazy person". Of course, this serves as a commentary on the state of psychiatric medicine as well, but that's much less obvious than the startling humor of the scene. At the same time, the father's monologue is becoming a rant (he ultimately is ushered away by orderlies as well--more "symbolism" that "normal" is "crazy" and the "crazy" son must be normal, if one wants to read it that way), so that the emotional effect of the father's rant is colored by, overshadowed by, modified by the startling humor of the blue-shirted man's interaction with the hospital patient. It makes for a very heady brew of images and effects--and this level of surprise is maintained throughout the entire film, from the opening scene to the last.

This film was apparently very expensive to make--and this shows in the pain-staking level of detail, and that everything was built--computer graphics were not relied upon, there were many, many takes of scenes. This detail, however, is not limited only to the visuals of the film. The details continue down to the very words spoken. As such, it is unfair to describe this film as "random" or having no plot

I can think of three ways one might view the plot of this film. First, as the symbolic story that is being told by the director about the state of Swedish affairs--this involves diatribes against those in power, mindless (zombie-like) hordes of business people, practicing superstitious gestures (like flagellation, child sacrifice, divination) to save their failing world, broadsides on education, and most of all the justifications by those in power for what they have done. The whole movie threads together along this otherwise "invisible" subtext. Of course, there is no need to watch the film this way. The beautiful surrealism and ambiguous implications of Anderson's crystal-clear imagery alone suggests that turning the thing into this kind of literal allegory is, indeed, only marginally interesting.

A second way to watch the film is at "face-value," as almost a kind of political zombie movie. The movie's second scene shows a long-time employee being fired in an exceptionally Kafkaesque way. This is followed by a foreigner being beaten up by hostile natives. What I gather from this is that "something is wrong with the world." Thus, the main character enters, on a subway, covered in soot, as all of the other passengers open their mouths, and chorale music pours out. Gradually, we learn that the man has burned down his shop for the insurance money and it seems clear enough that this is a response to the disintegration of the world around him. And so on. What particularly makes this into a "plot" that one can follow, is that it all seems related to his alternating sense of guilt (that he and others like him have made the world into the crazy place it has become) and trying to justify himself, especially to his son the poet, who has also gone "crazy".

And the last way to watch the film is simply for the vignettes presented in each scene--their visual sumptuousness and detail. This might ultimately seem to make the whole movie disjointed or fragmented, but even that could be said to be a commentary on modern life. Regardless, each scene is a multi-faceted and sparkling gem itself, so that it is not even necessary to string all these gems together into a necklace.

However one views the film, it may be something of a shame that the oddness or quirkiness of the film might be off-putting enough to some to not stick with it for the duration. In its small way, the motionless camera actually helps, since one does not become distracted by shifts and cuts; the motionless camera draws attention to the motion of things in the film, which one's focus can alight upon. In any case, for those willing to expend some patience on this very striking film, the rewards are entirely there to be reaped.
November 14, 2006

What's all this about a second floor?

This film is about as complex and clinically cut as its creator, the not-easy-to-read Swedish filmmaker Roy Andersson.
It's a long series of still tableaus, combinging the solitude and desolation of Edward Hopper with a sneery touch of absurdsim as can be found in the best works of Lynch, Brothers Quay, Beckett, the French slaptick of Jacques Tati and Kafka.

We witness, very often form a distance, strange happenings, sometimes apparently without a point, sometimes plain dull, but at many other times both hilarious and intruiging. The overall tone is howver deadpan, and how strange or weird the occurences, the people who undergo these happenings or witnissing it from the side, almost seem indifferent about it. Like the things we get to see in this movie when we run if for the first time, have happened to the movie inhabitants every other day.

Static camerashots, much use of enstranged totallities rather than intimate close ups, morbid themes within lives of mostly uninteresting people, and some hit-in-your-face sublayers in which something more than the depicted 'ordinary daily life' is suggested, make for a unique movie experience. And with this Andersson puts his "Songs from the second floor" right in between Tarkovski's "Mirror" and and some moments the higly metaphorical "Stalker" and other classics of vision cinema like Alain Resnais' "Last year at Marienbad" and even, although I say this with some reserves, E. Elias Merhige' metaphysical splatter spectacle "Begotten".

And all of a sudden I am reminded by Jim Jarmusch' "Stranger than paradise"; also filmed in static one-shot-sc?nes, also deadpan and without close imagery, and yet still a portrair of a society that remains in your mind, long after the closing credits have finished. But where Jarmusch' picture is a slice-of-life in a all too realistic but still intimate world of just-living-in-the present-youth in the 80's run down America, "Songs from the second floor", with all it's religious symbolism, suggests more of a coming armageddon, a social Apocalypse with a stunning final shot of zombie-like creatures walking slowly towards a huge pile of aboandonned crucifixes.

"Songs..." to put it in final terms, is a different movie in every aspect, but still of highly enjoyable but ever so dark entertainment.

April 28, 2006

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