Lukas Moodysson: Empathy and Its Limits
The opposite of empathy is contempt, and you can find both in the brief but powerful career of Lukas Moodysson. “Together” with Tom Tykwer of Germany and Catherine Breillat of France, these filmmakers represent a powerful new voice among directors. Bold, uncompromising, experimental, each of these filmmakers has quickly made a mark comparable to that of Martin Scorsese in the United States and Wong Kar Wai in Asia. In this chapter, we will look at the four films made by Moodysson in Sweden: “Fucking Åmål” (called “Show Me Love” in North America; 1998), “Together” (2000), “Lilja 4-Ever” (2002), and “A Hole in My Heart” (2004).
In terms of the director’s idea, Moodysson is examining in each of these films extreme characters, and in each film he is looking for a way to empathize with that character or characters. Before going into the characters and the films, a discussion about empathy would be useful. Of the other directors I have described, probably the most similar to Moodysson with regard to empathy are Ernst Lubitsch and Margarethe Von Trotta. In George Stevens’ work, the goal was to have the audience merge with the character, which is something beyond empathy. In the work of John Ford, the characters are iconic, larger than life—easy to admire but difficult to identify with. Creating empathy was not a goal of either of these directors.
Both Lubitsch and Von Trotta deeply care about their characters, and they do not mind flaws in them. In fact, the flaws are important to convey a complexity, a realism to the character. This is what I mean by empathy, which can be found in realistic characters that we can recognize and find either contemptible or admirable—characters operating with strengths and weaknesses and a passion. These are the qualities we find in the characters of Lukas Moodysson.
There are limits to empathy, however, and those limits begin to translate as soft satire when they are mildly expressed and downright anger and contempt when they become forceful. In Lubitsch, we see the soft satire in nearly all the films. The married couple—the great actor Joseph Tura (Jack Benny) and the even greater actress, his wife Maria (Carole Lombard)—in “To Be or Not To Be” are both credible and empathic—he in his jealousy and she in her guile; both are the source of Lubitsch’s soft satire about the narcissism of actors. Similarly, Von Trotta empathizes with the older sister (Jutta Lampe) in “Sisters” and at the same time blames the character for being overly controlling with her younger sister and with the surrogate younger sister after the former’s suicide. For both Von Trotta and Lubitsch, the more negative views translate differently than they do in Moodysson. Von Trotta veers toward a cerebral, serious approach in “Rosa Luxemburg.” The consequence is a neutralization of the film’s impact in spite of Barbara Sukowa’s earnest portrayal of Rosa. In the case of Lubitsch, he becomes serious and pedantic in “The Man I Killed,” blunting the impact of the film. Moodysson, on the other hand, just keeps going in “A Hole in My Heart,” looking for empathy while bathing us in the contempt his characters feel for themselves, each other, and their world. More on this later in the chapter.
Before we turn to Moodysson’s work we need to contextualize him as a filmmaker of the 21st century, as a European filmmaker, and as a Swedish filmmaker. As a Swedish director he works in the shadow of Ingmar Bergman, the director who dominated Swedish film for 30 years and who even today casts a giant shadow on Swedish theater. What is important about Bergman’s films is his range and his willingness to take filmic risks. He could be literary (“The Seventh Seal”), experimental (“Persona”), classical (“Fanny and Alexander”), or genre oriented (“Hour of the Wolf”). Above all, he was visceral in his approach to his characters. Portraying honesty, revelation, manipulation, and creativity was his goal, as it is for Moodysson.
In Europe, as in the United States, there is an impulse to go with young directors and young themes, young ideas; consequently, the Dogme movement that developed around Lars Von Trier in Denmark in the mid-1990s was important. Dogme was a reaction against the high-tech, special-effects, big-budget direction of filmmaking, and it has resonated for directors around the world. Genre filmmaking has been a focus for Belgian filmmakers such as Luc Belvaux (“The Trilogy”) and for Italian directors such as Emmanuele Crialese (“Respiro”). And throughout Europe there is an impulse to innovate in response to the dominance of the Hollywood film. The upshot has been the rise of filmmakers such as Pedro Almodovar in Spain, Mathieu Kassovitz and Jacques Audiard in France, and Lynn Ramsay and Danny Boyle in the United Kingdom, all of whom have influenced Moodysson.
Finally, the globalization sensibility has promoted voice, a national voice that has used voice-oriented genres to become a global director. Xiang Yimou (“Hero”) and Wong Kar Wai (“In the Mood for Love”), both of China, focus on style over content and have been a profound influence on young filmmakers all over the world. Although this movement began with Quentin Tarantino and “Pulp Fiction,” global directors have not followed the same path. Each has adopted a powerful style but made individual choices about their approach to content—specifically, whether it should be stylized or more emotionally available. (For a discussion of voice-oriented genres and the ascent of voice see my earlier book, Global Scriptwriting, Focal Press, 2001.) This globalization has been a powerful influence on Moodysson and his approach to his work.
“Fucking Åmål” (1998)
“Fucking Åmål” refers to the exclamation of the main character, Elin (Alexandra Dahlström), who makes the statement to her sister, Jessica: “Why do we have to live in fucking piss and shit Åmål?” (Åmål is a small town in Sweden.) Elin is a beautiful 14 year old. She is popular with a bad reputation for being easy with the boys; nevertheless, Johan (Mathias Rust) is obsessed with her and thinks he is in love. Elin thinks she will be Miss Sweden but her older sister tells her she is too short. Elin is bored with it all (“I hate my life”) and she needs the stimulus of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. She is looking for a change.
Agnes (Rebecka Liljeberg) is turning 16. Her concerned parents want her to be happy and popular, so her mother cooks meat for a party to which Agnes, a vegetarian, is uncertain if anyone will come. Her father is concerned and heavily identifies with his daughter. She is new to the neighborhood, and her parents hope that a party will make her feel that she belongs. Agnes knows this will not happen. The reason why she feels like an outsider is because she is gay and in love with Elin, but the aggressively heterosexual Elin does not even know Agnes exists.
Elin’s mother does not want her daughter to go out; she considers her provocative dress to be a prescription for disaster. Agnes’ party seems safe, though, and Elin’s mother allows her and Jessica to go off to Agnes’ party. They and a girl in a wheelchair are the only guests. During the party, Agnes suggests a wager between the sisters. To win the bet, Elin kisses Agnes. After a quick glass of wine, though, Elin and Jessica leave. Agnes is so despondent that her father fears she may commit suicide. After leaving Agnes’ house, Elin and Jessica make their way to another party, where Johan waits impatiently for Elin. He is earnest but she is clearly not interested. Growing drunker, she considers hitching into Stockholm but instead returns to Agnes’ house, and she and Agnes have a sincere exchange during which they kiss again, giving Agnes hope.
The next day at school Elin intentionally ignores Agnes’ feelings for her. Elin has decided that Agnes’ notion of a lesbian love relationship may just be a cure for her boredom, and she thinks Agnes is more authentic than the other girls. Johan is crushed, but the story ends with Elin and Agnes celebrating their nonconformist status in school, as lesbians. Both, for the moment, seem to have what they want. Agnes has Elin and Elin has a notoriety earned not on the normal terms (“how many boys have you slept with?”) but on her own terms (“how many of you have slept with a girl?”). In “Fucking Åmål,” we will focus on the opening, which introduces Agnes’ problem, Elin’s problem, and Johan’s desire. Each narrative thread comes back to Elin. How Moodysson manages multiple characters, goals, and stories energizes the opening of the film.
“Together” (2000)
“Together” is also a multiple-character narrative. It takes place on a commune in November 1975. The film opens with the news that Franco is dead. All the members of the Swedish commune celebrate as if it is New Year’s Eve. The film follows Elisabeth (Lisa Lindgren), who is not a commune member. Elisabeth decides to leave her husband, Rolf (Michael Nyqvist), who has beaten her while drunk. She and her children, Eva and Stefan, will find refuge at Together, her brother Göran’s commune.
The commune is made up of a divorced couple, Lasse (Ola Norell) and Anna (Jessica Liedberg). Anna has decided that males are oppressive and has declared herself a lesbian. They have a 4-year-old son, Tet. Göran (Gustav Hammarsten) has a girlfriend, Lena (Anja Lundqvist), who is self-centered and very interested in open sexuality. Göran is conservative, idealistic, and very sweet. He seems to be the leader of the house. Klas (Shanti Roney) is gay and in love with Lasse. Eric (Olle Sarri) is doctrinaire and very Marxist. His father is a wealthy banker. Signe (Cecilia Frode) and Sigvard (Lars Frode) and their son, Måne, round out the population of the commune. They seem the most antisocial of the group, always complaining about the behavior of others.
When Elisabeth and her children arrive, the others are gathered in the living room arguing about personal versus collective rights. Lasse is outraged that his ex-wife, Anna, stands around with no pants, dress, or underwear and is naked from the navel down. He is distracted by her state of undress. She asserts that a fungal infection has dictated her state of undress. This is her interpretation of freedom, but Lasse feels imprisoned by her freedom. Elisabeth and the children are shocked.
The film follows the conservative Elisabeth as she tries to adjust to her new life. Anna pursues her as does her husband, Rolf. Her children try to adjust, Eva finding a male friend next door. They are alike because of the thickness of their eyeglasses and their eccentric tastes in music. Stefan wants his father back. Lasse wants Anna back. Klas wants Lasse. Lena wants Eric, and so it goes. In the course of the story the collective characters become more individualistic, and the individualistic or conservative characters become more collective. Elisabeth and Rolf get back together and leave the commune. Lasse and Anna get back together. Göran throws the self-serving Lena out. The collective falls apart. The sequence we will focus on is the opening, which energetically introduces all the characters, their agendas, and their conflicts. As in “Fucking Åmål,” Moodysson quickly focuses on his characters and juggles multiple story lines. Rather than confusing us, the multiple story lines clash and energize the charming set of characters of “Together.”
“Lilja 4-Ever” (2002)
“Lilja 4-Ever” is an altogether different kind of story. The first half of the film is set in contemporary Russia, the second half in Sweden. After a prologue in Sweden, the film opens as a mother announces to the 15-year-old Lilja (Oksana Akinshina) that she is leaving for the United States with her new husband. She will send for Lilja when she is settled. Having been abandoned by her mother, Lilja is promptly thrown out of her apartment by her aunt. She must live in a run-down apartment, and the aunt will live in what was Lilja’s apartment.
The school front is no better. Lilja walks out of school angry at all adults, but primarily her teacher. The friend situation is little better. The boys see all girls as hookers and act accordingly. A girlfriend invites her out to a club, picks up a man, gets paid for sex, and promptly gives the money to Lilja. Her own father would kill her if he knew the truth. Lilja’s reputation is tarnished for prostituting herself even though it was not her. She throws away the money given her. The world continues to close in on Lilja even though she has tried to be a 15 year old with a self-respect and morality absent in her peers and the adults in her life.
All she has on her side is one friend, a younger boy named Volodya (“glue and vodka”). Volodya (Artyom Bogucharsky) and Lilja form a friendship without sex, a friendship that is for each their only shield against total abandonment. Volodya is clearly abused by his family and persecuted by a gang of boys who roam the neighborhood. As if Lilja’s situation was not bad enough, she receives a formal letter via the welfare authorities that her mother has given up all rights and responsibilities for Lilja. She is devastated and without means. The electricity is turned off in the hovel that is her apartment.
At this stage she turns to selling herself to men for money. She uses the money to buy a basketball for Volodya, an act of kindness toward an otherwise suicidal young boy. At this stage, she meets a young man in a club. The man treats her with kindness and she believes that, at last, someone will be kind and caring. But he is leaving for Sweden to work. He invites her to go with him.
Believing this is the beginning of a better life, she agrees. She says goodbye to Volodya who after she leaves feels totally abandoned and commits suicide. At the last minute, Lilja’s young man tells her he cannot leave today but has arranged a flight and papers for her. He will soon follow. She goes to Stockholm.
In Stockholm, she is picked up at the airport but quickly discovers the young man’s true intentions—a prisoner, she must now work as a prostitute. She rebels but is beaten into a life of imprisonment and prostitution. She is never let out of the apartment except to turn tricks. Life has become even more despairing. Without friends, without means, without dignity, Lilja tries to run away but fails. Her last act of self-respect is to take her own life. She is visited by Volodya with wings and the two play together, now both winged and free at last in death. The excerpt I will focus on is the last 10 minutes of the film, the events leading up to Lilja’s suicide and liberation.
“A Hole in My Heart” is Moodysson’s darkest film. There are four characters, and the ostensible plot of the film is the making of a pornographic film in urban Sweden. A father and son live in the apartment where most of the action takes place. The son, Eric (Björn Almroth), is long haired and has a birth defect—his right hand is claw-like. He seems depressed and escapes into his music. A rope hangs in the foreground of his room and seems to question whether he will continue to live. The father, Rickard (Throsten Flinck), is an alcoholic, rather dissipated, overweight, adolescentlike male. He will make a pornographic film today in the apartment. He invites Eric to watch but Eric is repulsed by what his father does. Eric, more conservative than his father, is rebellious against his father. When his father asks for a glass of water, Eric gives him water from the toilet bowl.
Geko (Goran Marjanovic), who will be the male in the film, is young, muscular, and angry. He oozes hate and aggression. Tess (Sanna Bråding), a 21-year-old woman appearing in the film, is there because she is bored and the only enthusiasm she has in life is for sex.
The through line of the film is the making of the porno film, but as the performers and director get bored with what they are doing they seek out more and more sensational actions for the film and for their own personal needs to remain engaged and stimulated. Those actions are increasingly about harming each other and themselves. Although violence is threatened, the actions remain on the level of humiliation and the loss of dignity. From a viewer’s point of view of the film, however, these actions have not been replicated in commercial or artistic film since Pier Paolo Pasolini’s “Salo.” And they are a graphic representation of what is being shown on screen is creatively exploitative while at the same time critical of the human behavior depicted.
In the midst of all this, Moodysson introduces a human heart operation to save life while toys and sex scenes show exploitation of life functions/behavior. These cutaways provide Moodysson the opportunity to introduce his views on society and progress. To humanize his four characters he has them at different points confess to us their deepest aspirations and fantasies. In the case of Geko, the least sympathetic character, he cuts back repeatedly to Geko’s pastoral fantasy (an escape from his behavior). His fantasy is escapist and pastoral—to run away to golden fields, assume the fetal position, and immerse himself in another reality. In the case of the other characters, their dreams are less humanistic, more regressive and aggressive. Only Eric remains the most human of the four characters, and the film ends with a close-up of him and Tess together. Rickard and Geko seem to be victims of their own anger and disappointment in life. The two youngest, Tess and Eric, suggest a modicum of hope for the future; both proceed wounded but less scarred by their experiences. The excerpt I will use from “A Hole in My Heart” is the opening. As the four characters are introduced, Moodysson uses a jumpy style to capture the fractured nature of the four lives of the characters that will populate “A Hole in My Heart.”
Text Interpretation
The director’s idea, empathy and its limits, gives rise to the presence of empathy and contempt in Moodysson’s character interpretations and the pressure points of plot and character that prompt change. In a sense, the director’s idea creates a pathway into the narrative. In “Fucking Åmål,” the main character, Elin, is bored. She is attractive and energetic and passionate. Her openness and her insensitivity commingle to make us wary of empathizing with her. In the progression of her relationship with Agnes we can see her shift from poseur and experimentalist to a more authentic person. Her energy and authenticity make Elin an empathic character. To elevate that sense of empathy Moodysson communicates a gentle contempt toward the well-meaning parents, toward the cruelty of adolescent boys, and toward the need to conform found among the school population at large.
In “Together” Moodysson is most empathic to Eva and Stefan. It is the children who suffer most in a family breakup. The gentle contempt is amply spread around the adult population. Göran is chided for his idealism, Lena for her promiscuity, Anna for her exhibitionism, and Eric for his rigidity and his anger. The contempt is not so great as to squeeze the charm out of these characters, but it is a presence.
Empathy is at its most poignant for Volodya and Lilja in “Lilja 4-Ever,” and contempt is at its height when aimed at Geko and Rickard in “A Hole in My Heart,” but both empathy and contempt are operative in each of these films. What is clear is that Moodysson is empathetic toward children, even a grown one like Eric in “A Hole in My Heart,” and he views adult behavior as contemptible. The men in both “Lilja 4-Ever” and “A Hole in My Heart” are hateful and abusive toward children and women. This view of character permeates all of Moodysson’s work.
To understand the why of the children/adult fault line in Moodysson’s work we need to think of him as a moralist embracing a set of values in his work. Although values are central to the work of Moodysson’s fellow countryman Lasse Hallström (“The Cider House Rules”) and the independent filmmaker Alexander Payne (“Sideways”), they are not a central focus for most directors.
To highlight his exploration of values Moodysson has opted to utilize two genres that put a clash of values at the core of the narrative: situation comedy and melodrama. Because situation comedy and melodrama can be considered to be opposites, this choice becomes even more understandable. In “Fucking Åmål” and “Together,” the dramatic arc is typical of a situation comedy. In comedies, the clash of values emanates from child versus adult and conformist versus nonconformist conflict. Moodysson uses a melodrama story frame for “Lilja 4-Ever” and “A Hole in My Heart.” In the melodrama, the clash is exclusively between the child and adult. The powerless children Lilja and Volodya struggle for their dignity and a sense of power over their lives. In the melodrama, however, the outcome is dark and unyielding. Only death provides a playfulness and dignity absent in the lives of these two children. The clash of values and the morality/immorality implications are clear and foregrounded in Moodysson’s films.
To support his interpretation of and empathy for his child characters, Moodysson opts for transformation via relationships. Agnes transforms Elin in “Fucking Åmål” and Göran is transformed by living with his sister Elisabeth in “Together.” Plot is a barrier that has a negative impact on Lilja in “Lilja 4-Ever” and on Eric and Rickard in “A Hole in My Heart.” Interestingly, both plots have to do with exploitation—the prostitution of Lilja in Sweden in “Lilja 4-Ever” and the making of the porno film in “A Hole in My Heart.” For the most part, plot occupies the adult tier in these stories and the character relationships for the most part occupy the child tier. Moodysson the moralist is embedding empathy in relationships and contempt within the plot.
In casting his films, Moodysson casts for a look that will support the director’s idea. For the adolescent roles in “Fucking Åmål” and “Lilja 4-Ever” the look has to elicit empathy, which means it must be appealing, expressive, and energetic. It also must be a natural look. In “Together,” the children Eva and Stefan must look like obvious outsiders, and the adults (who so often act like adolescents) who belong to the commune must look like earnest, intense young adults committed to the communal idea. Only Elisabeth and Rolf look like real adults. To convey the contempt in “Lilja 4-Ever” and “A Hole in My Heart,” the adults must look like they have no heart.
Beyond the look of the adolescents, children, and adults in Moodysson’s films, the actors (similar to Kazan’s sense of performance) have to key off of a single characteristic and then explore it in every way in their performances. Geko has to explore every aspect of his aggression, including the murderous dimension of his rage, in “A Hole in My Heart.” Rickard has to explore every nook and cranny of his self-pity. In the case of Lilja in “Lilja 4-Ever,” the young actress Oksana must hold onto every last morsel of her dignity, whatever the circumstances she finds herself in, and dignity must clearly be what her character values most. In “Together,” Rolf must explore every dimension of his addiction to alcohol and its consequences. The courage and the humiliation provided by the alcohol have to be fully a presence in his performance. Moodysson’s performers have to, in effect, risk it all because that is what their characters do.
The best way to capture Moodysson’s approach to directing actors is to view his performance goals as being akin to those of Peter Brook, who is experimental in his efforts to achieve performances that go for a spiritual as well as a material presence. Although the word existential comes to mind, its implication is too academic for the Moodysson performances. They are raw and go far in generating a feeling equivalent to that of Brook’s work, an edgy mix of the material and the spiritual.
Finally, there is a declarative dimension to the performances. Whether this is about a state (“I am so bored”) or whether it is about a goal (“I love Elin”) that obsesses the character, the outcome is the same. The performances gain an urgency that energizes the need of the character to find a solution. Lena tells Göran that she wants to sleep with Eric because he’s so troubled. Afterward, she also tells Göran that she has had her first ever orgasm. All the ones she had with Göran were fake. Of course, her admission could be viewed as her character opening up, which might be true on the surface. In the performance, however, we also need to see her self-serving promiscuous urges. This is a girl who just wants to have fun. Think of it as the declaration and the revelation. Moodysson seeks both in the performance.
Directing the Camera
An examination of Moodysson’s camera and editing choices should begin with what he omits. Moodysson does not open conventionally. He opens without the benefit of establishing shots. To put it another way, he throws us into the middle of his story at the outset. The purpose of the establishing shot, whether it is an extremely long shot or a long shot, is to locate the action and its time and place; it is an establishing shot that provides context for the story to follow. Moodysson provides us neither context nor narrative link to consider where he is taking us.
In “Fucking Åmål,” we are immediately introduced to Agnes and Elin. In “Together,” we are introduced to Göran and Lena and the commune as the death of Franco is announced and the commune members celebrate by chanting, “Franco is dead.” “Lilja 4-Ever” opens with Lilja running down a Swedish street toward the bridge she will use to commit suicide, “Meine Herz Brent” pulsing to the strings of a hard rock beat. “A Hole in My Heart” opens in the morning as Rickard awakens and Eric contemplates whether he will make it through another day. In each of the films, we simply move right into the characters. All are caught at a critical moment in their lives. For Agnes, it is her 16th birthday. For Lilja, it is the last moment before she ends her life. Moving right to the characters, Moodysson is telling us what is important in his stories—the characters, not the context.
To bring us closer to the characters, Moodysson favors the close-up. Rather than mid shots and long shots, he generally opts for the close-up. The films are not exclusively shot in close-up, as Carl Dreyer does in “The Passion of Joan of Arc,” but close-ups are used enough to push us closer to the characters. No context means we have only the relationship with the characters as we are introduced to them and observe them.
A second visual dimension that enhances our relationship with the characters is Moodysson’s use of a hand-held camera. Not as extreme as the Dogme use of the hand-held camera, Moodysson nevertheless has in the progression of his work opted increasingly for hand-held shooting. The danger here is that hand-held shooting brings a devil-may-care attitude to the formal qualities of composition, opposite that of Ford or Eisenstein. I believe that Moodysson has chosen the hand-held camera to get closer to Lilja and Volodya and Tess and Geko, and nothing formal should interfere with our access to these characters and their availability to us.
Another dimension of Moodysson’s visual style is that he does not favor the wide-angle lens. Consider Roman Polanski for a moment. In “The Pianist,” the camera is placed close to the main character and a Warsaw street or a rail station is fully in focus in the background. The placement puts us close to the main characters, and the lens choice gives context and a sense of how alone that character is. When Moodysson chooses a normal or even telephoto lens, context collapses and we feel that all that exists is the character. Placements seem dictated by the limits of space but they also seem to be about getting close to the character under any circumstances. Although Moodysson gives up the aesthetic bonus of beautiful framing, he is giving us a clear sense of his priorities: Get close to the character under all circumstances. The close-ups, the hand-held camera, and the lens choice all support his push to establish empathy for the main character and the other characters.
In terms of his editing choices, they are as distinctive as the camera choices. The first thing one notices is that Moodysson is interested in multiple characters; consequently, he utilizes parallel action editing. In “Fucking Åmål,” he introduces Agnes and her obsession with Elin and Elin and her obsession with boredom and being somebody, and he intercuts their stories with Johan and his interest in Elin. The three stories then proceed, intersecting as we move into the narrative. Similarly, in “Together” we move between the commune and Elisabeth and Rolf’s breakup. The intercutting continues until Göran brings Elisabeth and her children to the commune. Another thread that is introduced in the midst of these two storylines is Elisabeth’s younger child, Stefan, and his sense of being an outsider among his own peers. The various story strands and the use of parallel editing energize these character-driven stories.
Moodysson also uses the jump cut to energize the narratives. Jump cutting on hand-held movement in the opening of “Lilja 4-Ever” propels us into the story of a character we meet in motion. The jump cutting gives us a sense of Lilja’s internal chaos and the external violence of her life situation without spelling either out. The soundtrack of “Together” makes the scene powerful and overwhelming. The jump cut makes an important contribution to that feeling.
In “A Hole in My Heart,” the jump cut and the sense of a lack of control implies the need for control in the lives of its four characters. Here, the jumps are disruptive rather than energizing. Also disruptive is Moodysson’s choice of straight cutting from scene to scene. There is no softening via fades or dissolves. Blunt cutting results in a few seconds’ lag before we begin to realize we are in a different location with different characters.
Finally, Moodysson is very sophisticated in his use of sound, particularly his juxtaposition of different types of music tracks. He moves from hard rock to atonal music to bass ambient noise in the opening of “A Hole in My Heart.” As in the case of jump cutting, the result is disruptive and disorienting. In a sense, he is using a sound jump cut. The overall feeling of the opening of “A Hole in My Heart” is that we are caught in a series of MTV moments, unreal in the feeling that they are manufactured. Given the subject matter, the making of a porno film, this approach to the sound design gives the film opening of “A Hole in My Heart” an artificial feeling, a manufactured feeling. Like canned laughter on a television sitcom, the sound design emphasizes the artificiality of the experience to come. It does not come as a surprise that making the film is not spiritually nurturing for any of the characters involved.
Returning to the director’s idea of empathy and its limits, we can see that Moodysson uses a variety of visual strategies to move us closer to his characters and another series of visual and sound strategies not so much to distance us as to alienate us, to move us into the soft and sometimes intense contempt he feels toward the characters and the situations they have placed themselves in. Both camera and editing strategies are operating to draw us close (empathy) and repel us (contempt). Quite where this young filmmaker will take us with his fifth film is anybody’s guess. We look forward in eager anticipation to that next chapter.