by Flynn Shan Benson
Worth: $11.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Hanne Skille Reitan, Hermann Sabado, Lavrans Haga, Hildegunn Eggen
Intro:
… an unoriginal feel-good movie made with effort and care.
Norwegian film Home, directed by Julie Skaufel, must be compared to the work of Joachim Trier, if only because its opening mirrors that of last year’s excellent Sentimental Value, with an actress breaking down during a performance, falling out with a coworker-cum-lover, and returning to her childhood home.
But, because Home is a much more commercial and obvious film than Joachim Trier’s, the actress, Anni (Hanne Skille Reitan), does not get stage fright before a play, but vomits and swears on the children’s television show that she stars in. After becoming the object of ridicule du jour on social media, Anni escapes Oslo for her hometown of Steinkjer, where she regresses into her childish existence: moving back in with her mother (Hildegunn Eggen), taking up her teenage job at a local diner, and blushing at the high school crushes lurking around every corner — first Kjell Rune (Hermann Sabado), all salt-and-pepper hair and soft smiles, then Erik (Lavrans Haga), a broad-shouldered, burly alternative.
As you would expect, Home is faithful to the hallmarks of commercial dramatic filmmaking: dialogue neatly telegraphs plot points, humour is dispersed throughout the scenes, and the expressions and music signal the emotional arcs so well that you could follow along without subtitles. There’s no need to worry if Anni will find a new purpose and romance by the film’s end, even if the specifics are handled with enough dexterity to stop it all being too predictable — the viewer is welcome to roll along with the Norwegian vistas, which are undeniably splendid, if reminiscent of the Scandinavian tourism ads playing before the film.
Still, if this is an unoriginal feel-good movie, it was at least made with effort and care. Reitan plays Anni with aplomb, going from twitching diva to earnest fragility, while Home ends on a moral that is far less saccharine and regressive than the typical Hollywood counterpart. It’s also striking that this commercial film features an abrasive amount of swearing as well as genuine eroticism.
In the end, Home is an amiable experience that will only be slightly foreign to Australian viewers — the cinematic equivalent of a restaurant where you can take your relatives with the promise that it won’t be too spicy.
