Force Majeure

Everything is icy in Force Majeure (Turist); all has been cooled to a temperature that precludes warmth, both in surroundings and in relationships. Snow caps the mountainous vistas of the French alps, but frost infects the family holiday that brings Tomas (Johannes Bah Kuhnke, Time Out of Place), Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli, Burning Snow) and their children Vera and Harry (real-life siblings Clara Wettergren and Vincent Wettergren) to such wintry climes. Befitting the setting, it all starts with an avalanche.

On the second day of their vacation, with excitement still in the air but the dust settling on the obligatory happy snaps taken to mark the occasion, the family eats lunch with a view of their surroundings. Snow barrels towards them in one of the many controlled landslides that keep the slopes in skiing condition; however when the rush shows no signs of ceasing, Tomas panics and runs, leaving his loved ones behind. Everyone remains unharmed physically, the sound and the fury stopping short of the diners in its path, but the incident takes an emotional toll. Ebba is dismayed at and betrayed by Tomas’ handling of the situation, more so when he refuses to admit to or apologise for his behaviour.

Fight or flight; protect yourself or care for the wellbeing of others: a fine line exists between the two extremes, as a many a screen depiction from Seinfeld to The Loneliest Planet can attest. Indeed, in deconstructing the repercussions of the self-preservation instinct in a figure expected by gender and status to put others first, it is a mixture of the dark comedy of the former and the bleak breakdown of masculinity of the latter that Force Majeure presents. Humorous and horrified reactions go hand in hand as the repercussions ripple, first within Tomas and Ebba’s marriage as Vera and Harry anxiously watch on, then within the tentative bond of Tomas’ friend Mats (Kristofer Hivju, In Order of Disappearance) and his young girlfriend Fanni (Fanni Metelius), who find themselves arguing about what they would do in the same situation. The film forces that same contemplation on the audience, challenging roles, responses, perceptions of personal identity, and the frank reality that it is what we do – not what we say – that matters.

Commonalities with other efforts keep on coming in an effort that probes societal assignations not just of sex but of structure, with writer/director Ruben Östlund (Play) astutely appropriating a raft of influences into one discerning package. In the manner of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes From a Marriage, Force Majeure grounds its drama in the most mundane of details of the most intimate of relationships, crafting a film in which the simple act of brushing one’s teeth can shine with fondness and then simmer with hostility. A masterclass in passive aggression ensues in the authentic manner of all long-term couplings, writhing through Kuhnke and Kongsli’s performances. Conveying the veneer of normality, and then the quiet crumbling that builds to tears and screams, seems effortless in their portrayals; so too, the imperfections in each – vanity, haughtiness and more – that Östlund ensures probes and even parodies the characters’ semblance of ego, self-import, power and propriety.

Time and again, as Ebba can’t help blurting out her feelings about the incident to their dining companions, and as Tomas seeks distraction wherever he can find it, it is the appearance of control and its ultimate absence that troubles the film in theme and defines it in form. Östlund trifles with the act of obscuring crucial components, whether shooting Ebba’s conversations to a table full of listeners with her head out of sight above the frame, or heightening the music to mask the chatter when Tomas and Mats think they’re attracting attention from single women in the ski resort bar; simultaneously, he presents the definitive vision of calm in striking shots of the snowy landscape. The juxtaposition reverberates in an effort that is all about just that: the many chasms we traverse and the cracks we can’t help but fall into in all of life’s insistent, insidious abrasiveness. Thawing from chillingly insightful to awkwardly amusing to smartly satirical, Force Majeure offers a comedy of discomfort, a portrait of interpersonal battles and a skewering of the status quo of patriarchal prominence.