TIFF Report: The Bothersome Man Review

Andreas has stepped in front of a train. But rather than this being the end of his story, it is the beginning as moments after his should-have-been fatal fall we meet Andreas again, unkempt in his filthy suit and ragged beard aboard a bus in the middle of nowhere. It is rocks and sand as far as the eye can see, all except the forlorn gas station at which a man has unfurled a large welcome banner and is waiting to whisk Andreas away to a nearby town. Who is this man? Andreas has no idea, but know him or not the man quickly whisks Andreas away to a new apartment and tells him to report for his new job the next morning. At work - an accountants position at a construction firm - Andreas meets his impossibly chipper boss, over concerned to not load the new employee down with too much work and who promptly passes him an envelope of cash to carry him over until he has a chance to open a bank account. Gosh, everyone's so pleasant here. It isn't long before Andreas has a beautiful girlfriend, a large home and seems to be on his way to success and happiness.

But why doesn't happiness come?

Something is clearly wrong. During his lunch break on his very first day Andreas spots the aftermath of a suicide, a man impaled on a wrought iron fence after jumping from an office window in Andreas' very own building. Nobody seems phased. When he explores the city outskirts he discovers he cannot leave, the buses tracks simply disappear in the sand. The food has no flavor. The alcohol won't get you drunk. The conversation never changes. The sex never changes. Andreas is in a hell of never ending, unalterably pleasant blandness.

Until one day he discovers something out of place ... music emerging from a crack in an apartment basement wall. Could this be a way out?

Filled with the ultra dry humor that marks Sandanavian culture in general The Bothersome Man is a clever piece of work that aims for wincing recognition - and sometimes just plain wincing - over audible laughter. Somewhat ironically it also boasts exactly the sort of Scandanavian attention to detail and design it so ruthlessly skewers. Well written and acted it nonetheless feels a little overly slow and, no doubt, much of the satire is lost on non-Scandanavian audiences. But for those with a bit of patience and an eye for the unusual and occasionally grotesque the high moments are quite high. Liens intersperses his dry observation of modern culture with shocking bursts of gorey slapstick - watch for the papercutter and subway incidents - in a very unusual mix that will delight some while puzzling or, likely, shocking others. Played more to the arthouse than to entertain the masses this is a film that you likely appreciate more than anything. It is smart, funny, but ultimately just a little bit cold and inhumane.