O'Horten

Trust the Norwegians to come up with a low-key comedy so glacierly paced and downright dour that it's more funereal than fun. What's surprising is that O'Horten manages to be interesting and endearing almost despite itself. You won't bust a gut laughing, but expect some sad and fleetingly knowing smiles.

Written and directed by Bent Hamer, O'Horten is the grimly amusing tale of 67-year-old Norwegian train engineer Odd Horten (Bard Owe). It's possible that none of those names are unusual—or odd, as it were—in the land of the northern lights, even if "Bent Hammer" and "Bard Owe" sound like Monty Pythonish puns.

Impassive and utterly unexcitable, Odd appears to be a confirmed bachelor whose only pleasure in life is his ever-present pipe. A man of extremely few words, he regards everything from receiving a Silver Locomotive award at his retirement party to witnessing a stranger's death with equal detachment, a la Peter Sellers' turn as Chance the Gardener. Unlike Being There, however, O'Horten has no secondary satirical or political purpose. Odd is just an expressionless, easy-going fellow who doesn't happen to get worked up over much.

The film sparingly reveals details of Odd's life with an unhurried deliberation that seems almost reluctant. The most important person in his world, his mute and shut-in mother Vera (Kari Lolland), is even more placid and indecipherable than he is. A champion skier in her day, but one forbidden from doing the high jump in competition because of her sex, she now stares blankly at the snow outside her nursing home window. Cold, baby—cold.

When humorous situations arise, they often are more absurd and underplayed than conventionally funny. Attempting a shortcut by breaking into an apartment belonging to strangers, Odd finds himself pressured into remaining in a demanding young boy's bedroom until the kid falls asleep. A noisy arrest at a restaurant evokes no reaction from Odd and the other diners. A man who insists he can drive while blindfolded takes Odd on an early-morning trip through town.

Occasionally, a scene that starts out comic takes a thoughtful turn. When Odd is invited to the house of a drunk he finds lying in the street, he asks about a black rock in the man's artifact-filled living room. Told it actually is a meteorite, Odd seems amused that such a thing has ended its incredibly long voyage in that place. "Its journey has not ended here," the drunk profoundly notes.

The movie's unconventional ending is either devastatingly sad or life-affirmingly hopeful, depending on what viewers think is real and whether part of it is fantasy. We've come to care enough about Odd by then that it's hard not to hope for the best.

—James Dawson
05.15.09

A septuagenarian taking his penultimate voyage from Oslo to Bergen begins to mentally prepare for his final trip, but finds that sometimes things don't turn out as expected when he misses the last departure for the first time in 40 years. ~ Jason Buchanan, Rovi