I write about cinema and music and I have a podcast about music and cinema

It was a pure coincidence to watch Oslo, August 31st and Volcano on the same day.

They both open with a montage, shortly followed by a suicidal attempt of the protagonist. They both depict a solitary journey of a lonely man, which is not a surprise if the main character wants to die at the beginning of a story. And both directors, Joachim Trier and Rúnar Rúnarsson, are young, precise and already winners of international film awards.

Oslo, August 31st is Trier’s second feature effort, following his Karlovy Vary Film Festival winning Reprise. The opening montage including documentary footage accompanied by voiceovers entails seemingly diverse and individual memories about urban Oslo. To establish the background where this story takes place seems to matter more, and in this case, it does.

34-year-old Anders is almost finishing his rehabilitation program. Filled with remorse, he returns to his hometown, Oslo, for a job interview. He takes the opportunity to revisit his past, while searching for a reason to live off. Loosely based on French writer Pierre Drieu La Rochelle’s “Le feu follet”, Oslo, August 31st is a trail to despair.

Through the handheld camera and calculated framing, we follow Anders strolling like a hurt animal in sparse Oslo. His supposedly best buddy, now a married man with a daughter leading a normal middle-class life, can’t seem to relate to his pain. Surrounded by the trivial conversations of people in a hip restaurant, Anders appears to be an outsider. During his interview, he confesses to his addictions and shamefully dismisses himself. His ex-girlfriend refuses to answer his calls. Even his sister shuns him. One man can’t feel lonelier when his whole world has moved on without him.

A second time collaborator with Trier, Anders Danielsen Lie, convincingly portraits the vulnerable protagonist. You sympathize his pain but the sobriety that he always delivers makes you a clear-minded commentator, that his behaviour is self-inflicted and there is still “hope” to reverse every wrong he’s done in his life, until he returns to his dealer. The inevitable becomes the destiny. To kill his character, Trier is clever enough to insert a monologue of Anders telling about the free-spirited upbringings from his unseen parents, like a primal flame burning down his last bridge.

The movie reaches its climax as Anders returns to his parents’ empty house, which is soon to be sold on account of his financial disability. He sits down at the piano, picks up some sheet music, and starts to play. To this point, it is fully established that even a talented and once ambitious young man from a well-off middle-class family can still fail to reinstall his purpose of existence after recovering from the decadent lifestyle he chose. There, he has lived.

It ends with the montage of places Anders has been: the streets, the city pool, the park bench, and the lake he tried to drown himself. They are empty now but still exist. By not showing Anders’ parents, Trier confronts with the generation of 30-something. With everything it can offer, does a city shape us? Yes. Does one person shape the city? From Trier’s point of view, yes and no.

In a sense, Anders is consumed by the city. However, though it’s not hard to imagine how he got into the mess at the first place, we can only see the aftermath and it is a downward spiral from the beginning. Compared to Anders’ friends and family, his tale is just one possibility, but a cautionary one. Who says middle class has no capacity for tragedy?