‘Armand’ takes political correctness to school
As the grandson of Ingmar Bergman and Liv Ullmann, I suspect more is expected of Halfdan Ullmann Tøndel than most other writer-directors making their feature film debuts. And some of the harsher reviews of “Armand” bear that out. Ironic since his movie is all about subjective judgments formed without all the facts. How can anyone be audacious enough to assume they know what he – or anyone – is thinking at any particular time?
Such is the case with the three parents and three educators freely casting aspersions during an after-school parent-teacher summit. They’ve assembled in the wake of two 6-year-old boys having had an extremely vague altercation inside a restroom. Did the sexual assault alleged by Jon’s mom and dad, Sarah (Ellen Dorrit Petersen) and Anders (Endre Hellestveit), actually happen? Or, was it a mere misunderstanding as contends Elisabeth (Renate Reinsve), the mother of the other lad, Armand?
The school’s headmaster, Jarle (Øystein Røger); guidance counselor, Ajsa (Vera Veljovik-Jovanovic); and the children’s teacher, Sunna (Thea Lambrechts Vaulen), all seem to have made up their minds – before allowing Elisabeth to advocate for Armand. And when they do enable her to speak it’s not in a cordial setting. It’s closer to an ambush. Surely, Armand takes after his mother, a disgraced actress who drove her husband to suicide. It was in all the papers. And that sympathy act. It’s just her drawing on her thespian skills to play the mournful widow.
For a while, you’re tempted to think the same, which is exactly where Tøndel wants you in what’s about to blossom into a satirical takedown of both a flawed education system and society in general. And not just in his native Norway. What, he implicitly asks, has happened to our sense of fairness in this age when rumors become fact and reputations are destroyed in a flash, absent any evidence or common sense?
His ability to neatly fit such bold statements into the microcosm of a classroom is impressive. It’s also cynically funny, turning a place of learning into a forum for stupidity. The absurdity of the situation is hilariously lost on everyone except Elisabeth, who is impelled to break into a nearly 5-minute laughing jag. You laugh, too, albeit nervously, unsure if Elisabeth is genuinely amused or in the midst of a nervous breakdown precipitated by a heap of misfortune, to which this pow-wow is just an added layer
It’s an amazing, unconventional twist that defies all logic, yet moves you to no end. And it won’t be the last time Tøndel and Reinsve fearlessly push the boundaries. An even more daring display is reserved for late in the third act when Elisabeth imagines herself at the center of a flash mob dance that cleverly encapsulates her experiences of love degenerating into bouts of violence and entrapment inflicted by the people she trusts most.
True, these moments are eccentric flourishes, but they are supported by numerous scenes in which Elisabeth is made to feel increasingly ostracized by all around her, including Armand, whom she phones repeatedly to no avail. But as the afternoon wears on, unexpected allies begin to emerge, you among them. Just don’t expect others to speak up. It’s not the Norwegian way to openly express their feelings, a curious trait that drives you – and Tøndel – to exasperation.
That’s sort of the point. Why are so many people nowadays so afraid to take a stand when they see a wrong that needs righting? Has political correctness reached the magnitude of ridiculousness we see on display here? Beginning with the cowardly headmaster, so scared of reading the lurid allegations to Elisabeth that he dispatches the still-wet-behind-the-ears Sunna to the front to do his dirty work, only to relieve her of her spokesperson status in a transparently sexist move signifying that the situation calls for a commanding male presence.
His antithesis is Anders, whom Sarah has so firmly under her thumb that he just may be the most pathetic figure among the six combatants. Is he more of a pawn than a concerned parent? It’s intriguing finding out, as Tøndel delights in heightening the tension in anticipation of the film’s big reveal. And the gathering storm is made more ominous by introducing a gothic vibe distinguished by the imposing brick school building and the labyrinth of long foreboding hallways and claustrophobic classrooms and lavatories within. It’s a character as enigmatic as the two dozen or so humans contained within.
Yes, Tøndel’s flick is strange. It’s Norwegian, people! But it’s also quite affecting. By the end, your empathy level is at its max. Much of that is due to the outstanding performances by Petersen as the quintessentially uptight Sarah and Vaulen as the utterly naive Sunna. All bend a knee, though, to Reinsve, who builds upon her breakout turn in “The Worst Person in the World” with another intricate portrayal of a young 21st-century woman whose assertiveness and individuality must be tempered to meet Old World standards.
The 5-minute laughing scene is impressive in itself. The difficulty in selling that indulgence cannot be overstated. Ditto for her two impromptu dances, the first, a Gene Kelly-inspired number with the school’s sympathetic janitor (Patrice Demonière) and later, the aforementioned interpretive movement. Few actresses are as adept as she at conveying so much with the slightest expression or gesture. She’s the ace up Tøndel’s sleeve, and she delivers time after time, elevating “Armand” to a caliber of artistry that’s as entertaining as it is socially relevant. And at a time like this, boy, do we ever need it.
Movie review
Armand
Rated: R for sexual material and some language
Cast: Renate Reinsve, Ellen Dorrit Petersen, Endre Hellestveit, Øystein Røger, Thea Lambrechts Vaulen and Vera Veljovik-Jovanovik
Director: Halfdan Ullmann Tøndel
Writer: Halfdan Ullman Tøndel
Runtime: 117 minutes
Where: In theaters now, expanding Feb. 14
Grade: B
