Love Review: An Honest, Calming Nordic Perspective on Romance

      Note: This review was initially published as part of our 2024 Filmfest Hamburg coverage. Love will be released in theaters on May 16.

      It requires a certain level of confidence to title your film so simply and ambiguously as Love. While Michael Haneke successfully pulled it off with the classic Amour, Gaspar Noé’s interpretation of the L-word did not fare as well. Does Norwegian director Dag Johan Haugerud have something meaningful to contribute on this topic? With a relaxed tone that comforts rather than unsettles, indeed he does. His film explores the various forms and possibilities of love while indulging in the scenic backdrops of Oslo. Although it may not break new ground in filmmaking, it serves as a soothing cinematic experience that honors the fundamental and beautiful human desire for connection. Fans of Joachim Trier and Linklater’s Before trilogy should pay attention.

      As part of a thematic trilogy delving into sex, dreams, and love, the relationship drama centers on Marianne (Andrea Bræin Hovig), a urologist who often delivers unfortunate news to male patients regarding their prostate health. Content and successfully single, Marianne agrees to meet divorced geologist Ole (Thomas Gullestad) primarily to please a friend who wants to set them up. An immediate attraction sparks between them, despite Ole’s complicated situation with an alcoholic ex-wife and two kids living next door. Meanwhile, Marianne’s assisting nurse Tor (Tayo Cittadella Jacobsen) is a young gay man seeking encounters while cruising the ferry between Oslo and a nearby island. During one outing, he meets an older man, Bjørn (Lars Jacob Holm), who initially declines his advance but later appears at the hospital for medical care. Despite the risk of rejection and ethical dilemmas, Tor resolves to approach the handsome stranger again.

      What stands out most about Love is the absence of significant dramatic events. The characters go about their lives, interact with others, and engage in conversation. Similar to Trier and Linklater, Haugerud trusts the potency of dialogue, and with this beautifully crafted screenplay, he demonstrates how enthralling it can be to observe two individuals conversing. When Tor and Bjørn first encounter each other on the ferry, the air is filled with sexual tension. They are strangers, united only by circumstance, sharing a fleeting moment where they speak freely and without pretense. This brief exchange allows us to glimpse two men in a vulnerable state. Although the night doesn't unfold as Grindr would suggest, every moment of their interaction captivates, vividly portraying the sweet awkwardness and sudden closeness of their meeting.

      Marianne also faces unexpected personal moments. After a lovely romantic second date with Ole, she has an encounter with a random man on her way home. The film presents her few joyful hours with the unnamed carpenter without a hint of judgment, culminating in an open and sincere conversation before they part ways. No commitments are made, yet there’s an innocent and refreshingly honest quality to this encounter.

      With a portrayal of love that feels forgiving and wise, the film reflects on relationships through their human essence rather than labels. Is Tor merely caring for a patient, or are they friends? Hook-up partners? Lovers? After a touching monologue in which Bjørn shares his conflicted feelings regarding a potential HIV vaccine, Tor cuddles up to him, suggesting they be each other’s emotional support for a time. This poignant scene isn’t heightened for dramatic effect, yet it speaks volumes about intimacy and the meaning of love. Similarly, when Marianne visits Ole’s ex for an early-morning conversation towards the film’s conclusion, the nature of their relationship remains ambiguous. Ultimately, it becomes evident that both women are trying to navigate a shared new chapter in their lives. Rather than displaying jealousy or resentment, the moment reveals a genuine tenderness, subtly indicating that there are ways for everyone to care for one another, emphasizing that love isn’t a zero-sum game.

      Haugerud writes with clarity, empathy, and an exceptional sense of rhythm. His authentic dialogue creates characters who come to life and draw you into their emotions, insecurities, and uncertainties without unnecessary plot twists. His direction is sensitive and understated, resulting in a film that doesn’t dazzle with style but invites viewers to embrace it like a warm hug. The fantastic performances by the entire cast are naturalistic and engaging without being distracting. A special mention goes to composer Peder Kjellsby’s dreamy, jazzy score, which perfectly captures the film's melancholic romantic tone and is so captivating that you could easily lose yourself in it.

      We rarely encounter films as honest and eloquent about romantic relationships as Love. By depicting life where individuals navigate their emotions without cynicism or shame, it serves as a reminder of how simple and vague connection can truly be.

      Love was screened at the Filmfest Hamburg 2024.