Meanwhile, Tor meets Bjorn (Lars Jacob Holm) one night, then runs into him at the urology office, where he’s been diagnosed with prostate cancer. He finds himself falling into a different sort of relationship with Bjorn than he’s ever sought with another person. It turns out Tor and Marianne both have a lot of room to grow.
“Love” moves slowly through its languid moments, set against the backdrop of Oslo and its architecture. There’s a loveliness to every scene, quiet urban beauty that leaves space for the audience’s contemplation. Characters spend a lot of time conversing, with frank openness, about their connections to others and themselves, about the ways they navigate the world. Sometimes during these conversations, the camera pulls back and drifts over the Oslo rooftops, shining in the bright August sun. The voices continue, but we’re observing a broader cross-section of the city, a reminder that these kinds of conversations are happening everywhere in town, all the time. People are interested in love, looking for love, swiping on their apps for love. And for each of those people, love looks a little different.
In some ways “Love” feels highly theoretical, each character demonstrating a different approach to finding sexual connection and romantic fulfillment. There’s the divorced couple maintaining their relationship for their children; the happy and occasionally smug monogamist; the man who prefers not to commit; the woman who can’t decide. Haugerud’s script is more or less free of judgment. If it veers a bit academic at times (how convenient that every character has a different perspective to share), it’s so beautiful that you want to just keep dwelling in its world.
At the start of the film, it’s Heidi we meet first. She’s showing the city government buildings’ architecture to a group of visitors, providing her own interpretation of the reliefs and statues. There’s a group of women carved into a building, which she sees as reinforcing the place of same-sex relationships and single mothers in their society. A statue of three burghers prompts reflection on whether they represent a ménage à trois, and an acknowledgment of the citizens’ different sexual interests — a statement in stone that they’re all accepted here.
It’s an interpretation that surprises the visitors; Heidi is sure the tour went badly. But it provides a lovely preface for the film that follows. This city, Haugerud tells us, is full of people who are different from one another but in pursuit of the same thing. Just like cities are everywhere.
Love
Not rated. In Norwegian, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 59 minutes. In theaters.
