The Bothersome Man

The Icelandic film The Bothersome Man begins with the protagonist on a random bus in the middle of nowhere. He’s quickly shuffled off to a very clean, drab city where he is given an apartment and job, but still no explanation for where he is or how he got there. He finds that all the people in the city are friendly and accepting, but still there is something off about the place. Nobody can die, the food doesn’t have any taste, and all the alcohol in the world will not get him drunk. It is a purgatory that seems eerily similar to normal life.  In a time where audience hand-holding is standard operating procedure for most films, it is refreshing to watch a movie that doesn’t involve copious expository dialogue. In fact, there isn’t any, at all, and it works all the more because of it.

Part of the effectiveness of The Bothersome Man comes from the performances, which are subtly distant. At no point does anyone raise their voice, or swear, or even genuinely smile. They all smile, but nobody actually seems happy. Everyone is both accepting and oblivious, which leads to some dark, absurdist humor later in the film. The human behavior on display in the city is like watching humanity on its best behavior, yet also uncaring, and detached. Very rarely has sex on screen been so passionless and perfunctory. The muted, nearly absent score also helps with the otherworldly calm of the movie.

While a philosophical Icelandic film that deals with the nature of humanity, has little score, and no identifiable actors may not sound like an enjoyable or engrossing film, it is actually rather entertaining, thanks to a wealthy vein of dark humor, and the good sense of the screenwriter, Per Schreiner, and director, Jens Lien, to not give out any overt answers. The movie lives and dies with its ambiguity. If any answers were given, they would, no doubt, seem either clumsy or cheap. Besides, questions of this magnitude are best left unanswered.

The framing and lighting of the movie seems to match the aesthetic of the city where the majority of the action takes place; the shots are well composed, yet nothing is too artistic or daring. It is similar to the technique used recently in the comedy The Invention of Lying, but there is a bit more polish to the shots in The Bothersome Man, much like how the city has much polish, but no real character.

While the tone of the film never waivers, it is tough to figure out just what kind of movie it is. While at times it feels something like a drama, and occasionally a black comedy, and sometimes a horror movie, and also an existential mystery, it isn’t an easy piece of cinema to nail down. It can be both shockingly gruesome and subtly subversive, all without even a hint of violence or even much dialogue outside of the banal language of everyday business. It is a sly piece of cinema, one that removes all the flash, and replaces it with ambiguity, subtlety, and a good dose of absurdity.

Written by Mark Donovan