A Movie and a Modern Question

Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is paltry; for it lacks passion. Men’s thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy. —A (Søren Kierkegaard)

The question of modern man is chiefly the question of meaning. Since Nietzsche’s famous declaration of God’s death, increasingly we have sought different ways of making sense of a world filled with loneliness, isolation, and, too often, despair. Even for contemporary Christians, existential questions remain salient. God’s love may permeate the world; we may be called to love our fellow human beings. But how can we understand that love? How can love overcome hate in a world filled with collapsing traditions and decaying social institutions?

Fear not, for Joachim Trier’s Oslo, August 31st answers these very questions (or at least poignantly addresses them). It tells the tale of a young heroin addict named Anders who revisits Oslo, the sight of much partying earlier in his life. Ostensibly the film presents a story of addiction, pleasure, and hedonistic catharsis colliding with intellectual smugness. But it is more than that; it is Scandinavian in the best sense of the word. Trier channels the spirits of Kierkegaard, Munch, and Bergman, crafting a film that peers unreservedly at the heart of modern civilization. It’s certainly not a movie for the faint of heart, but it will bear fruit for those who wish to see man stripped naked and interrogated in all his faultiness.

The film and its content notwithstanding, its real significance is in addressing questions most of us would rather ignore. My own life has certainly been touched with sorrow, pseudo-intellectual hubris, and absurd comedic intent. I can’t help but feel that others in my generation have experienced the cognitive dissonance of living in a world where we are cynically told to consume in order to become happy. At the same time, that very happiness escapes us, forcing many into a world of hapless sex, drug use, and  addiction to antidepressants. Trier’s film refuses to let us be comfortable with this dissonance and ultimately asks both the protagonist and the viewer to make a choice: meaningfulness or the void? Life or death? Heaven or Hell?

Even if one does not go out and watch this film, there are questions that still need asking. While it is easy to question the structures around us, it seems to me that too often we ignore the structures and habits within us, those which have become common beyond recognition. These difficulties of the modern experience are beautifully addressed by Trier’s film but are also worthy of constant meditation and reinvestigation. Let us begin there and see where the road takes us.