‘Dreams’ Review: Dag Johan Haugerud’s Intimacy-Themed Trilogy Concludes With Its Most Youthful, Delicate Chapter

by

The bond between student and teacher can sometimes become profoundly personal, despite adhering to appropriate boundaries: Over our formative years, we invest a significant amount of time with our mentors, relying heavily on their guidance and validation. This prolonged interaction can lead to feelings ranging from swift dislike to affection akin to family ties – emotions that often linger in our recollections long after the lessons themselves have been forgotten.

17-year-old Johanne (Ella Øverbye) instantly feels a connection with her new teacher Johanna (Selome Emnetu), partly due to their shared name. However, it’s unclear if she is projecting these feelings or if they are genuinely there. The film “Dreams” by Dag Johan Haugerud beautifully portrays the confusing perspective of first love. At one moment, everything around you seems foggy with hormones, but at the same time, you gain an unprecedented clarity about yourself.

In “Dreams,” the last film in Haugerud’s trilogy exploring romance and intimacy in modern Norway, the gentle handling of heavy emotional topics is not unexpected. The previous films, “Sex” and “Love,” also shared this quality – a balance of subtlety and non-judgmental openness when depicting human desires that could have been more sensationalized. This tactful approach is even more pronounced in “Dreams,” which stands out as the only coming-of-age story and the sole focus on female desire within the trilogy. Notably, there are almost no male characters present in this movie. However, a character from “Love” makes a late appearance, serving as a rare connection between these otherwise independent stories.

Initially slated to be the second film in the trilogy titled “Sex Dreams Love,” “Dreams” was actually released last due to the unpredictability of festival selections. It premiered at the Berlinale, a year after its counterpart “Sex” was shown there in the less prominent Panorama section. However, its subsequent screening in competition at the Berlinale indicates the growing interest and appreciation for Haugerud’s unique project, offering distributors multiple release plan choices.

Among the three titles, ‘Dreams’ seems poised to make a significant impact. It carries a deeply relatable emotional resonance and avoids narrative confusion, much like how Norwegian movie ‘The Worst Person in the World’ struck a chord with audiences. The film’s visual style, captured beautifully by Cecilie Semec’s cinematography, stands out with its frosty, wintry tones, offering a stark contrast to the lighter, airier feel of its predecessors.

Johanne ponders that her life is shrouded in a mist at the start of the film, a sentiment echoed throughout as she narrates, her words carrying a poetic, introspective tone. It’s not until she commits these feelings to paper that they feel tangible and understandable, even to herself. Much like many teenagers, Johanne is a complex mix of secretive introspection and open-hearted vulnerability. Until now, Johanne has experienced love only through the pages of classic novels, but when she enters Johanna’s classroom for the first time, the reality of love becomes palpable to her: ‘I could feel her presence coursing through my entire body,’ she admits, and this feeling of infatuation only deepens.

Johanna is young, attractive and has a relaxed, friendly relationship with her students. It’s hardly shocking that someone might have feelings for her, though it does leave her puzzled. She becomes irritated later when her mother Kristin (Ane Dahl Torp), in an effort to be understanding, labels it as “a queer awakening” — Johanne doesn’t identify as queer and is hesitant to define herself based on a single, significant event that she has never experienced before. The clearest way for her to understand this situation is by writing about it: not in the form of a diary, but as a poetic narrative where she plays the main character.

It’s challenging to determine how much reality versus imagination is present in the intricate story that flows from her heartbreak, especially after Johanne unexpectedly visits her teacher’s home, sparking a string of casual outings disguised as additional knitting tutorials. The smitten girl interprets these meetings as signs of something deeper. For most of the movie, we see Johanna solely through her student’s perspective, and it seems, possibly in a patronizing way, that she might be under the influence of some illusion.

Although Haugerud’s clever and insightful script broadens to encompass various viewpoints – such as Kristin’s, Johanne’s grandma Karin (played by Anne Marit Jacobsen), and eventually Johanna herself – the image becomes complex and tense. Is Johanna intentionally taking advantage of her young ward, or merely trying not to hurt her feelings? Is Johanne self-deceiving, or the only one who truly perceives what’s happening? Øverbye delivers an exceptional, delicate performance that subtly maintains all these potential interpretations beneath Johanna’s gentle and curious demeanor. (This actor has already shown great promise in Haugerud’s 2019 film “Beware of Children.”)

Beyond Johanne’s tumultuous personal life, her writing stirs conflicts among and within her elders. Karin recognizes and values its extraordinary literary depth, while Kristin uncovers a series of progressively distressing truths about their daughter. The resulting tug-of-war reaches its peak in the movie’s funniest moment, a masterful exploration of long-standing sensitive issues revolving around, surprisingly enough, the feminist aspects (or lack thereof) of “Flashdance.

Haugerud’s writing is consistently captivating and far-reaching, as it skillfully explores shared vulnerabilities and deep ideological chasms among three generations of women. However, the author’s most poignant empathy is reserved for the youngest character, Johanne, whose heartbreak takes on an unfamiliar form. As Johanne, the budding writer, navigates the strange curves of a shattered heart, she swears impulsively that she will never love like this again. Whether she’s right or not, “Dreams” ensures that there is much more to feel than just sorrow for both Johanne and the reader.

Read More

2025-02-19 21:19