The Absurd Films of Roy Andersson
There are several filmmakers out there whose work is almost instantly recognisable. You may only need to look at the camerawork and the blocking and the odd camera technique to be sure that you’re watching a particular director. Roy Andersson stands out in that you only need one single frame of his to instantly know that he is behind the camera. The surgically composed shots contain some of the most advanced and layered staging of any director in history. If ever there was a time to say, “every frame is a painting,” then it’s for an Andersson film. The camera almost always remains completely static, meaning there is not an inch of the frame that goes unused; in fact, the background often details a completely unrelated narrative to the one in the foreground.
Narrative is very much a loose term as his films are more like a series of barely related vignettes that explore a wide array of ridiculous and inexplicable scenarios. The powdered white faces of his disinterested, depressed, or lively characters, and the repeated meaningless incantations like “tomorrow is another day” are omnipresent, and though on the surface his setups may appear preposterous, there is a rich amount of social commentary buried in the seams.
His last four films are all completely absurd explorations of existence and what it means to be human in an unofficial tetralogy of existence. Spanning from 2000 with his Songs from the Second Floor (25 years after his previous feature) to 2019’s About Endlessness, there is an incredibly deadpan humor to the series. It’s almost impossible not to laugh at the two salesmen and their futile attempts to sell their silly novelty items, or the man who fails calamitously at the tablecloth trick as a bewildered family watches on (uncovering hidden swastikas in the process), or the countless poor victims of various misfortunes present throughout the series. This is perhaps the hallmark of Andersson’s absurdity, as this humor is very often employed to mask the underlying, often very dark themes.
You, the Living (2007) is an allegory not for human evil, but rather human indifference. Nazi imagery is utilised to paint a picture of exactly the kind of inaction that allowed for the atrocities of Nazi Germany to occur. A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (2014) features a stunning scene that depicts British colonial soldiers forcing black slaves into a cylindrical metal barrel, which when set alight plays beautiful music for the entertainment of an old bourgeois family. Andersson’s delicate hand is able to tell some terrifying stories, and there is a certain existential dread to much of the tetralogy. That’s not to say it’s all doom and gloom, because the films explore all facets of humanity, good and bad. What remains certain is that Andersson has created a style not remotely like that of any other director, and his films will surely remain relevant for a very long time.
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