Songs from the Second Floor

2000
7.5| 1h39m| en| More Info
Released: 06 October 2000 Released
Producted By: SVT Drama
Country: Sweden
Budget: 0
Revenue: 0
Official Website:
Synopsis

A monumental traffic jam serves as the backdrop for the lives of the inhabitants of a Swedish city.

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Reviews

filippaberry84 I think this is a new genre that they're all sort of working their way through it and haven't got all the kinks worked out yet but it's a genre that works for me.
Keeley Coleman The thing I enjoyed most about the film is the fact that it doesn't shy away from being a super-sized-cliche;
Yash Wade Close shines in drama with strong language, adult themes.
Logan By the time the dramatic fireworks start popping off, each one feels earned.
framptonhollis Most stereotypically "artsy" and "slow" films are not often considered to have a sense of humor, but Roy Andersson's brilliant portrait of life and death is among the funniest movies I have seen recently, it is also one of the saddest.All at once, Andersson's breathtaking film attempts to satirize, rationalize, commentate on, embrace, and fear the forces of modern society, while also working as a celebration and tragic depiction of life and death, and all their many pains and pleasures. Slow, absurdist laughs drag on with all of the wit and social criticism often used by the greatest of comedians. Comical scenes and images such as the moment in which a fired worker cries and grapples his boss' knee and then proceeds to be dragged across the floor, or the ever-present visual (and threat) of the endless traffic jam spanning across street after street, continuing its chaotic struggle for days upon days. These images are silly and satirical, but they also contain a mild sadness. As the film continues its route through the deepest and most complex themes imaginable, a layer of profound philosophy emerges that both satisfied and saddened me. Humor can still be found all throughout the film, but tragedy still increases in presence and by the final shot I was in a state of impressment, shock, sadness, perplexity, and I don't even know what else. Having reflected on my experiences viewing this masterwork, I have decided it best to rewatch it sometime in the near future, for its impact on me is something that should be invested upon much further- plus, it simply is a fun film to watch if you have the patience! I may seem like I find this to be a deeply depressing film, which in many respects it certainly is to an extent, but this is also a joyous one. It mixes the elements of comedy and celebration with more dark and hopeless aspects. This is clearly the work of a genius who has discovered a successful way to interpret life with painstaking accuracy in a totally surreal and ridiculous style. A real feat!
sharky_55 Roy Andersson spent a quarter decade break from film-making directing commercials, and it is from there that he garners his stylistic influences; the static tableaux that unveils a multi-layered and living canvas, the darkly deadpan humour, the still long takes, the absence of music, and the muted colour palette. In one of them, the camera centres on a man checking his lottery ticket against the grimy TV of a bar, before the ecstatic cries of another man, obscured and sitting at a far away table, pierce the mundane affair. The first man reacts to this unexpected winning by trying to rationalise: "Money isn't everything", and this is the same sentiment that the salesman of Jesus crucifixes later echoes as he tosses his unsold merchandise into a rubbish dump - who could ever think of making money off this crucified loser? Andersson is known for his remarkable dedication to his craft, and his feature films are years apart, for all the work that must go into them. He seldom ventures into real locations, but works on massive sound-stages at Studio 24 that are meticulously prepared and sculpted to resemble the real. He then decides on a perspective; the camera in SFTSF is a silent observer, never moving an inch, and the selected point of view becomes crucial. When the main character visits a church for some sort of solace in his misery, Andersson rejects the grandiosity and beauty of the architecture and chooses an angle that has a tall, ugly white pillar protruding through the middle of the frame, and seems to suggest that this world is one filled with spiritual discontentment, where the traditional religions have been stripped of their power and meaning, and no amount of swinging Jesus figurines will amend to that. As they approach the new millennium, the film's world is imbued with a sense of malaise, of futility and endlessness. Their jobs define them, and when those are taken away, they cannot plot another path. The silent son in the mental institution seems to be the only one who has accepted this, or is immune from it all, and there is a reversal, as the father is dragged away while vehemently protesting the state of affairs, as if he was the insane one. It is with great skill that a dismissal can be made so funny and sad at the same time, and it is somewhat Pythonesque in its humour; a man clutching desperately at his superior's leg while insisting his worth to the company reminded me of a similar action in Gilliam's Brazil. And then sometimes it is just simple. A classic magic trick begins, and the volunteer cries out in pain, and the audiences laughs as if it was part of the act, and then we cut so suddenly to the doctor's office, where he clutches his bloody stomach. Nothing seems to go right, and the doctor and the nurse are quietly in the midst of a divorce (although the doctor seems to want to ignore the issue much like Kalle ignores the ghostly apparitions that plague him). In the backdrop, so silently and subtly, a traffic jam seems to invade their lives, and it is funny when we have been watching a scene that has not cut for several minutes, but found ourselves only having moved a few metres, but it also serves to bring us back to the reality of these character's lives. They wear a ghostly white mask on their faces, and seem to be haunted everywhere by their coming mortality (by themselves, and by people back from the grave), and will try anything in order to cure this affliction. It is absurd to watch a room full of important officials and businessmen and clergymen convince themselves that a sacrifice must be made, and then trying to rationalise and translate this to a young child. They place a pile of rocks at the bottom of a cliff, and test its effectiveness like any normal bureaucratic safety procedure. Andersson utilises thousand extras, and cars, and elaborate costume, and shoots a scene of such immense and ceremonial scale, that our jaws drop because although a chuckle is given for the sudden push in the back, the bizarre spectacle has become normalised for each and every of the thousand, and that this feeling of dread and desperation is pervasive. He shows it in two other scenes that seem to stretch the deep focus into infinity. The first, an endless row of check-in booths at an airport, and a bustle of hopelessly tied down passengers that tow along skyscrapers of baggage, and take an eternity to never reach their destination. "Only a few more metres!" they yell encouragingly at each other, but of course we know that a few metres can seem like hours, and they move diagonally, lengthening their journey (into afterlife, some have suggested). Andersson makes the gradually dragging themselves towards the booth, through hundreds of takes, seem universal, with wooden models and figures that are directed via a system of pulleys and ropes. The second is the final scene, where rubbish and decay is littered at the outskirts of a miniature model city that stretches into the horizon. This is an extraordinary masterpiece of a long take, because of how the figures in the horizon inch towards us, how their haunting of Kalle invades reality and forces him to confront something he does not want to dwell on. And there is a tiny moment of recognition of their humanity too, as they humorously back away as he flings a piece of garbage, and then all the hidden characters in the fields also emerge, and they all slowly converge on him, and what was personal strife becomes a harrowing and universal experience.
vromos-458-520497 some men wonder about ultimate meanings, and usually they are not found, other movies did that. some of them on a simpler scale_ like "the Seventh Seal"_ and some did it the hard way like this movie, here are symbols, some of them were simple to catch some were not as they were dug deep out of the memories and dreams of the artist, do we sacrifice our young ones to keep the elder as they are?, but are the elder comfortable with that?, do they live!!?, does any one who is ultimately good in our world always get accused and crucified?, do I have to live in an asylum if I'm a poet without a sense of trading?, do economists and old men with ties and ((experience)) actually understand a hick or is it all vomit?, do we have to carry all of our old trash with us no matter how heavy it is thinking that this is how we will get to the better moments?, funny!!, but happens!!, does it happen all the time?, in other words is this view universal or is it just a view out of the scope of one cinematographer?, very few will be able to decide.
rooprect OVERALL: It's not really a 2/10. I'm just being exceptionally brutal because this film had so much potential, but it lost itself in a swamp of modernist absurdism which doesn't have a point. This is yet another film where the director chooses style over substance. The result is two hrs of gimmicky schlock which will intrigue the film school teachers, but those of us who are looking for a fulfilling literary experience (poetry, plot, theme, etc) will be highly disappointed.SCRIPT: There are basically 10 lines of dialogue which are repeated a dozen times each. Count how many times someone says, "Beloved is the man who sits down." Literally about 12. Well, that's one Swedish phrase that's been etched into my brain for no good reason. Honestly I haven't heard so much repetition since the last time I sang "99 bottle of beer on the wall" round the campfire.VISUALS: The entire film has a very drab, bleached white appearance which makes you want to smack the side of your VCR a few times. Yes, this is just another gimmick which is initially novel, but it gets old after 45 minutes of the same thing. Also, each scene was filmed entirely in one shot. Usually I consider that to be a huge plus (e.g. Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope", Bela Tarr's "Werckmeister Harmoniak"). But in this case it was too obvious and excruciatingly dull. "Rope" and "Werckmeister" worked well with the continuous shot because the camera was dynamic and fluid, much like the human eye. But in this film the camera only moves once in the entire picture, so there are no dynamics at all. Combine this with the aforementioned bleached-white lack of contrast and shadow, and the result makes you feel like you're a security guard watching a video monitor at the mall. For 2 hours.MUSIC: To all you ABBA fans, don't get your hopes up. It's true that Benny did the soundtrack for this film, but that only consists of about 4 chords and 12 notes played on a cheap synthesizer. It ain't no "Dancing Queen" that's for sure.HUMOUR: This movie is so thick with situational sarcasm that I couldn't tell where the gags were. In that sense it is indeed like Monty Python (which others have pointed out), but--make no mistake!--this refers to the mood only. There are no funny lines in this film. So just imagine watching a Monty Python flick with the sound turned down, and there you have it. Not exactly a laugh riot anymore, is it?HIGHLIGHTS: So what's left to like about it? I'll tell you what: it's just plain different. It's so different that it managed to hold my attention all the way through, as I was hoping that there would be some sort of payoff. In that sense, it may be refreshing to some of you. If you've been gorging yourself on Hollywood action flicks, this might be just what you need to cleanse the palate (just remember to spit it out afterward as wine connaisseurs do!). Doubtlessly, that is why Cannes showered it with awards--it's not good; it's just plain different.But don't get me started on Cannes.The sets are nice--very grand and oppressive like in Terry Gilliam's "Brazil". I should also add that that the final scene is somewhat impressive (visually), so if you do make the mistake of renting this film, don't chuck it out the window without fast forwarding to the end.MY RATING: I would give this a 1/10, but that rating is generally reserved only for films with animal cruelty in them. Aside from a few gawd-awful nude scenes with old pasty fat people, there isn't anything personally offensive. So I'll give this film a 2.