Joachim Trier has long been fascinated by what it means to be human. With Sentimental Value, he returns to that terrain with a film that is both narratively curious and achingly sincere. Using the act of filmmaking itself as a frame to excavate the deep recesses of trauma and fractured bonds, he crafts an affecting family drama.
Sentimental Value asserts storytelling is a form of sense-making. With wounds too seismic for the characters to confront directly, the film chronicles their journeys through a film-within-a-film structure. Yes, some of the symbolic imagery feels a bit literal, but Sentimental Value saves itself from being too didactic with a nuanced screenplay and beautiful performances. The cast is strong across the board, with each performer carving out moments of honesty.
But it is Renate Reinsve and Stellan Skarsgård who define the film’s whole emotional architecture. Reinsve is so expressive, her face seems to hold every emotion imaginable, and Trier wisely never wastes an opportunity for a close-up. Meanwhile, Skarsgård – an actor whose style can sometimes feel bigger and broader in recent works such as Dune and Andor – delivers one of his most contained, contemplative, and gentle performances in years.
Visually, the filmmaking is beautifully textured. The decision to shoot Sentimental Value on film pays dividends across the runtime. Cinematographer Kasper Tuxen, who previously shot The Worst Person in the World, crafts images with gorgeous saturation and grain that feel lived-in. In addition, Trier’s preference for long takes bolsters the film’s resonance. All in all, there is an assurance behind the camera that translates to a generosity of the characters on screen.
Sentimental Value is not without its stumbles, though. The film’s jumbled structure leads to some powerful moments, namely when Trier cuts directly to a historical event that is recounted by a character. However, when the film abruptly shifts to another character’s storyline without this same proper anchoring, it feels uneven. Further, the unevenness contributes to a film that feels slightly long; a bit of abbreviation – particularly in sections that stray from character interactions – would have been welcome. Additionally, the commentary about the current state of filmmaking (Netflix!) lands as somewhat surface-level and feels mildly misplaced within the film’s otherwise emotional focus.
Even so, Sentimental Value is quite good. At one point, Skarsgård’s character drunk-dials his daughter and says, “I’m sensitive… just like you.” On paper, this seems quite generic. However, within the context of everything these characters have endured – and widened out to encompass the audience watching them – it becomes something more radical: a small declaration that vulnerability is connection. And perhaps that is Trier’s achievement here: a film that reminds viewers that acknowledging the tenderest parts of ourselves may be the only way to move toward healing.
