52 Films by Women Vol 3. 17. THE HEART (Hjãrtet) (Director: Fanni Metelius)
The Heart (Hjãrtet), the
debut feature from Swedish thirty-year old writer-director-actress Fanni
Metelius, begins with a conversation that many of us have had during our
lifetime, though hopefully only once: do you masturbate? Mika (Metelius)
doesn’t believe in pleasuring herself, which is to say she is wearing a
‘situation vacant’ sign around her neck. Listening in is Tesfay (Ahmed Berhan),
a fellow student – she’s into photography, he into music production. He
complements her on the music on her personal music player – the only decent
music played at the party they both attended, apparently. Mika is attracted to
him. He’s tall, of African descent, has tattoos and fixes her with a stare that
is difficult to read. You sense that Mika is not like any women he has known to
this point. They probably wouldn’t allow a man to join in a conversation about
masturbation. To be fair, he doesn’t offer a confession about his own self-pleasuring
habits. You wouldn’t in mixed company. In any case, there is an unsaid
assumption that all men self-pleasure once they have ‘discovered’ the capacity
for joy in their fudge packet. In some cultures it is considered a sin and a
source of blindness, especially if you rub your eyes afterwards.
Such conventional sexual
frankness is at the heart of The Heart,
which really ought to be called ‘The eternal mystery of why men stop wanting
sex with their girlfriends after a certain point’. This is not a mystery at
all. Desire is based on what you cannot have and can be unhealthy. Advertising
and morality both teach us what to want. Many of us are not persuaded. What we
actually want gives us pleasure, comfort and renewal, but is also a bit
unpredictable too. There is also what we want now and what we want for the rest
of our lives. Desire is always managed through compromise.
Tesfay doesn’t immediate want
Mika. He says he is afraid that having sex will ruin their friendship. There is
the sense that he is the one being wanted and some guys aren’t used to that. If
a personal stereo jumped off a store shelf and said, ‘I want you’, you’d be
pretty freaked out. Actually, you’d be thinking, ‘there’s a hidden camera
somewhere – I hate those TV shows’. Needless to say, you would make your
excuses.
Mika and Tesfay do begin a sexual
relationship, but then Tesfay moves to Stockholm. Mika lives in Gothenberg.
Bummer. Mika doesn’t try to sell to Tesfay the attraction of Gothenburg’s Volvo
Museum or the delights of Liseberg amusement park. Stockholm has incredible
allure. Plenty of famous music producers have emerged from its scene like Tim
Bergling aka Avicii - his excessive drinking led to inflammation of the
pancreas, the artist still not yet thirty.
Early on, there is a conversation
that says something about how kids feel today. One guy is ridiculed for having
an apartment in central Stockholm purchased by his father. He didn’t have to
struggle for it. These kids are material, but they also want to deserve what
they get - the moral side of desire. One of Mika’s friends says ‘we try to be
good left wingers like our parents’. There is a qualification: they don’t have
to fight. There are few causes to unite young Swedish kids that give them a
sense of purpose. Where is an oppressive patriarchy to overthrow when you need
it?
Mika takes the next step and
moves to Stockholm to live with Tesfay. We get the symbolic scene of the couple
carrying a mattress up to their apartment. There are very few memorable
‘mattress carrying’ scenes in world cinema, but my favourite – the only one
that springs to mind (pun inevitable) – is Paddy Considine lugging a mattress
on his back down the street in Jim Sheridan’s autobiographical drama, In America. Metelius edited her film at
her house - I should have added editor to her hyphenate - but I felt that not
every shot was necessary. Music videos have a lot to answer for – they
encourage the inessential.
At the clothing store where Mika
gets a job – she is the only one doing the folding – there is talk about the
weekend. What will Mika do? She doesn’t know the city that well. One colleague
is going to multiple parties – there is so much going on – but another extols
the virtues of staying at home. This is, as it turns out, Mika’s fate. She and
Tesfay play video games.
One noteworthy scene occurs early
in their relationship when Mika sleeps with another guy but then tells Tesfay
about it in order to confirm that she is serious about him. ‘Wow, you are the
only woman I know who would do that,’ Tesfay says in a state of underwritten
stupefaction. I am sure that the normal end to this scene is an explosion of
anger, of ‘how could you do that?’ Tesfay is chilled – so chilled, he is
practically in need of defrosting.
The one scene in the movie I
absolutely hated features Tesfay explaining how he always ruins things in his
life (‘I have a reverse Midas touch – everything turns to shit’). Up until this
point, we have not observed this quality in Tesfay. He is cool. He promotes
artists with talented voices – well, one female artist, one voice. He doesn’t
talk about his parents, siblings, friends, work colleagues, or that summer job
he didn’t keep because he kept dropping crockery. Where does this sentiment
come from? I came to the conclusion that Tesfay is a composite of many of the
men Metelius has dated. The problem with composites is that the parts don’t fit
together. You can’t stick one piece from one Ikea item of furniture into a
piece belonging to another.
Worse, I didn’t feel that that
Metelius understood what Tesfay – or indeed any man – is saying when he makes
such a declaration. He wants affirmation, the ‘look at all the wonderful things
you have done’ speech. Self-pity is the same as self-love, to paraphrase
Hermann Hesse. The ‘everything I touch turns to poop’ speech is also an excuse
for not having achieved very much. Tesfay has a girlfriend to earn money and
keep him supplied with shoot ‘em ups. What is there to strive for?
Mika doesn’t give up on Tesfay,
but she does not actively push him either. She takes photographs of a cigarette
smouldering in an ashtray. I’m sure it is a metaphor. Later we see her
intentionally blurred photographs of a man in action. Can’t be Tesfay then!
The film half-asks the question:
what do young people want in a relationship? Company, warmth, unconditional
love and a joined up future. Mika doesn’t talk about the future as this big
thing involving work. She is just upset that Tesfay is keeping his fudge packet
to himself.
When one relationship is failing,
you always have your friends to turn to. Mika goes on holiday with her besties
and slips. This is the one shocking moment in the film. Fortunately, she is all
right.
There is an amusing scene when
Mika entertains an English guy in her room and he generates his own lubricant.
That’s messed up, a more street-wise lady might conclude. There is also a
frankly weird moment when Mika is given a baby to look after. A child doesn’t
turn over when offered an embrace. Mika enjoys being tactile in the baby’s
company – not in an exploitative way, I might add. We sense this is what she
wants from a boyfriend, the same sort of uncluttered intimacy. She might not be
keen on the nappies, though.
Metelius made her film over a
three year period, shooting then editing then shooting some more. The film
arrives at a conclusion that, according to Metelius, hasn’t been seen in a
movie before. I’m sure that’s not true, but I feel that Metelius has watched
far too many Hollywood rom-coms rather than the edgy stuff from the fringes.
Metelius isn’t coy about showing
herself semi then buck naked in the love making scenes. She wants us to know
what Tesfay is missing, besides his parents, friends etc. On the early moments
of their relationship, Metelius presents partially clothed sex, but later takes
it to the next level. There is just enough nudity in the film for it not to
seem gratuitous. Tesfay himself is tactfully photographed in the bedroom
scenes.
For us to root for the couple, we
have to share their affection for one another. However, they are unequal. Moreover
Mika is a bit selfish: she should have taken Tesfay on holiday, not gone with
her mates. Neither of them discusses social background or race, but these would
have some impact on the confidence they have in one another. Ultimately, Tesfay
is a blank. We can’t take everything he says at face value and we don’t
understand why he doesn’t get offers from other women more pushy than Mika.
In her commitment to naturalism,
Metelius forgets about plot and character. At a certain point, values should be
revealed: in the poker game of life, people always show their hand. Not in
Metelius’ film. The problem with young people’s cinema is that it can seem
immature and unfocussed. The heart is a vital organ but then so is the bladder.
Reviewed at Febio Fest, Cine Star Andel, Prague, Czech Republic, Friday
16 March 2018, 20:30 screening in the presence of Ms Metelius
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