Sentimental Value
"It's hard to love someone who is full of anger."
Sometimes it’s painful for me to engage with art that shows me an unflattering version of myself. Nora is intentionally unreadable and wants nothing more than a home. She desperately wants those around her to see her, and yet nothing is scarier to her. She asks her father why he disappeared and how he could possibly think he knows her because the alternative—him knowing her and choosing to stay away—is much, much worse. She is only able to express herself through her art, because the moment someone indicates they want to try knowing her is the moment she withdraws. Nora and Rachel’s conversation about whether the character’s sadness is “such an overwhelming part of her” and is “just the cause of everything, or is… a symptom of something deeper” is the closest we see Nora allow someone to get to her, and that’s only because her defenses were down. I’m happy to say I (mostly) no longer feel like Nora; my desperation to be seen is turning into a love for those who see me, and I’m much better at letting more of myself be known now.
When Gustav is asking Nora to be in his movie, he tells her that “it’s hard to love someone who is full of anger,” but that is exactly what this movie makes it so easy to do. In a story about how artists use their art to convey emotions they otherwise have no access to, we see Gustav literally try to script and direct a repair with his eldest daughter. She refuses to participate in the movie Gustav is asking her to star in, but is still dragged into the emotional turmoil brought by her father’s return. The movie is the vehicle for understanding whether she participates in it or not (sidebar: it's funny that I am pulling a Gustav here, and using a movie as a safer proxy to talk about my year and my feelings). Nora and Gustav are flawed and actively make it hard to care for them, but we see (far more than they do) how easy it is to love them. Agnes is the key here, and her ability to show her love for her family members gives both Gustav and Nora an example they tentatively hope they can follow.
Stalin has that quote about decades where nothing happens and weeks where decades happen; this year has felt like a series of weeks-where-decades-happen for me, and it felt like Sentimental Value portrayed the same thing. Sometimes we are pulled—ready or not—into growth and change and progress that feels stagnant while within it and profound once you’re out. This year it has felt like time keeps bunching up into these weird, shattering moments. Many of these moments were about being a sister and what it means to care for others, so I'd like to thank Trier for reaching into my brain while writing this movie.
When Nora said she didn’t need therapy because she knew too much about herself already, I was reminded of times when I’ve felt like Nora and knew, subconsciously, that cracking the door would lead to more change than I felt ready for. Nora’s attempt to keep the door held was visibly exhausting and clearly tormented her, and yet it was clear that Nora was trying to take care of herself in the only way she knew how. Instead of an overwrought self-pity party, Renate Reinsve’s astounding performance makes us sympathize with Nora without feeling frustrated at her emotional constipation.
That final scene of the Borgs actually filming the movie made me cry for many reasons, one of which was that it was an example of how things that previously felt impossible become real once you’re able to untangle your own emotional knot a little bit. I certainly imposed this feeling on Nora a bit here, but this year I’ve continuously found myself in situations I thought myself unequipped to handle, only to surprise myself by how well I navigate them. Much like Nora’s stage fright in the first scene, sometimes it doesn’t matter if you’re ready to go out on stage because you just have to go.