Mo AbdiSentimental Value, directed by the acclaimed Norwegian-Danish filmmaker Joachim Trier, dazzled audiences at the Cannes Film Festival and took home the Grand Prix — and it was, quite clearly, the best film of the year.
The film opens with a striking scene: a stage actress is about to go on, but an intense bout of stage fright and mental turmoil gives her a strange, trembling fear that drives her to flee rather than perform. This breathtaking beginning immediately pulls the audience into a deeply feminine story that, paradoxically, is about cinema itself. It bares the inner world of a woman through the medium of art, mapping out parallel realities that, in the end, astonishingly converge — in a place where acting becomes indistinguishable from life itself.
The woman’s initial fear of going on stage is, in fact, a symbolic fear — a manifestation of her terror in facing life. Life itself becomes a kind of theatre in which this sensitive, fragile woman has turned into a loser, unable to confront its brutal weight. The film’s narrative is shaped by this confrontation with life, evolving into a complex and enigmatic film-within-a-film, where the girl’s father — a filmmaker — becomes a stand-in for Trier himself, an omniscient observer dissecting his actress.
This is, essentially, a kind of therapy through art and creation — without slipping into didacticism — that transforms into an uncanny exploration of the relationship between art and life, achieving a breathtaking synthesis through subtlety and grace. The film is filled with constant references to cinema, especially Scandinavian cinema. One can trace echoes of Victor Sjöström and Carl Theodor Dreyer — but above all, Ingmar Bergman. This film is, in many ways, an homage to Persona, Bergman’s masterpiece and perhaps the greatest film by this genius of cinema. In both films, the protagonists are actresses struggling with the essential challenges of life. Both explore the duality of performing in cinema and performing in life, reaching rich and provocative conclusions.
Many scenes in Sentimental Value evoke Bergman’s other works — a deliberate nod from Trier to the Swedish master. One standout moment, where two sisters converse, is intensely reminiscent of Cries and Whispers, another indisputable masterpiece from Bergman.
Every actor in the film, without exception, delivers an extraordinary performance, further cementing Trier’s status as one of the greatest actor-directors working today. Renate Reinsve, who won Best Actress at Cannes for Trier’s previous film (The Worst Person in the World), returns here with an even more powerful and complete performance. Her expressive face and extraordinary emotional range — honed through years of stage experience — culminate in something remarkable. In that opening scene, the internal complexities of a theatre actress are vividly written across her face and gestures as she tries to escape the stage — a moment that feels entirely inseparable from her real self and life.
The film’s final, extraordinary scene is a return to the beginning: the woman, having journeyed far through life and art, has now reached a point where she is no longer afraid — even if she finds herself standing before the noose.The fact that this is a film-within-a-film lends it an eerie quality. We know we are watching the filming of a scene — and yet, where does cinema end and reality begin? The woman is playing herself, and the bitter final moment is nothing more than the life she is truly living. Her filmmaker father — unaware of her life’s details — is filming her existence. It is a divine act of directing. And what could be more glorious than this — a cinematic ode to cinema itself?
