RATING
Director(s): Joachim Trier
Country: United States
Author: Joachim Trier, Eskil Vogt
Actor(s): MRenate Reinsve, Stellan Skargard, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas
Written by Tom Augustine
The generation from which I — and the younger members of Sentimental Value’s core cast — arise often seems to be one defined culturally by deadbeat or absentee fathers. The generation our parents came from were in turn sired by those who survived — or didn’t survive — the Great Wars, and so the absences (both physical and emotional) of their parents feel different, somehow, like it was an external factor placed upon them, rather than something in which they had a choice. That’s a narrow read of the many, many reasons why a father might be lacklustre at the job of fatherhood, of course, but nevertheless one sees in the generation now rapping at the door of old age an historical precedent toward independence, that at times reintroduces itself as myopia, selfishness. Divorce had become not just popular, but a mainstream feature of film and television. Many of Spielberg’s greatest films hinge on the disintegration of the family unit, and the struggling single mother and drifter father became central figures of our collective understanding.
I saw a video on Instagram recently that (jokingly) remarked that so many of our families have gone through divorce that seeing a parent couple still together gives them a vaguely incestuous vibe. I must say that in my own experience I often react with mild surprise when I hear that people of my generation continue to have married parents, prompting me to check my own myopia on this subject. As a child of divorce myself, it’s clear to me the benefits of such an action — staying together ‘for the kids’ at the expense of your own happiness will only create emotional trauma down the line for said kids, not the reverse. Speaking generally, though, that selfsame individualist streak in the culture is flecked with old-school sexism, enabling fathers to all-too-frequently shirk the responsibility of having children onto the mother. At least, that’s the experience to which many in my generation can surely attest. That isn’t to say that these somewhat lacklustre fathers aren’t well-meaning — one of my favourite depictions of this figure, Ethan Hawke’s character in Linklater’s Boyhood, captures the manchild ‘fun parent’ failings instilled in many of these men, despite loving and wanting to connect with their kids. The father in Sentimental Value, Stellan Skarsgård’s ageing European auteur Gustav Borg, is a variation in that his absences are defined by clear purpose. He’s an artist — and the art comes first. In Room to Dream, the biography of David Lynch, I was always struck by how clear the great filmmaker was with his partners and his children — the Art Life will always be the priority, over the more traditional expectations of a father. For some, this calling to art-making on such an enormous scale lends them a kind of parental authority over the culture in a way that seems fatherly, but which ultimately means that the actual children of said artist draw the short straw. The most fascinating and rewarding element of Sentimental Value, one I’m sure Lynch would identify with, is that it never entirely lands on whether such a disposition is right or wrong.
Joachim Trier’s handsome family drama, his follow-up to the breakthrough The Worst Person in the World, feels purpose-made for the festival circuit, at times to a fault. Committed performances from its central quartet, particularly Stellan Skarsgård, win the day — but the film only sporadically achieves what it sets out to do.
The film, which was a darling of Cannes Film Festival 2025 and a surefire multiple Oscar nominee, comes to us from Joachim Trier, the Norwegian filmmaker who experienced a true mainstream breakthrough with 2021’s superb The Worst Person in the World, a flinty romantic drama about just how unsettled the Millennial identity truly is, defined by ever-increasing socialisation and paralysing self-awareness. Sentimental Value has a lot more portent to it than that film which, even at over two hours, jogged merrily along like Renate Reinsve’s central character Julie in the film’s defining scene, as she navigates the streets of Oslo that appear to have been frozen in time. Reinsve returns to work with Trier, playing Nora, a theatre actress and the daughter of Borg, from whom she is largely estranged. Her younger sister Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas) has a similarly complex relationship with Borg, though is more forgiving of the man, perhaps due to her being cast in one of his films at a very young age. Borg, coming out of a long period of dormancy, has a new film, one which is loosely based on the life of his mother, and for whom he wishes to cast Nora in the lead role. Following their mother’s funeral, Borg begins to reinsert himself into their lives as he tries to convince the family to jump on board, including allowing filming to take place in their old family home. With Nora hugely resistant, Borg considers recasting the role with Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning), a famous Hollywood actress with whom he finds an unexpected connection at a film festival.
Trier’s film is concerned with many different tendrils of familial conflict: what the older members of the family pass down to the younger, and so on. With so many requirements, Sentimental Value is more than a little bogged down by expectation, and Trier hasn’t the time to service all the film’s needs equally. It’s clear that the thread that most interests him is the emotional journey of Borg, an elder statesman and great filmmaker reflecting on his life and his regrets. In this, the film is very strong — Skarsgård’s performance is a true gift to Sentimental Value, a reminder of just how good he is, both warm and fatherly and yet emotionally remote, difficult to pin down. His scenes with Fanning, who is his best scene partner in the film, have an intriguing pulse that the rest of the film doesn’t — why is it that he is festooning so much care and guidance on this actress, that he doesn’t reserve for his own children? What of himself does he see in this young American starlet?
The film is far less accomplished in questions of family drama — though Reinsve is first billed, she feels oddly shortchanged by the script, while Lilleaas, whose character is second-fiddle at the best of times, comes to feel slightly perfunctory within the structure Trier has crafted. Much of the drama here, which ultimately boils down to the hangover of absenteeism, are ultimately handled with an overabundance of tastefulness. Trier rarely investigates the darker corners of his constructions (something which made Worst Person such a breath of fresh air), to his films’ detriment. It is all very classily done, which is another way of saying that it all, like Borg himself, is a little distant. An early scene functions as a useful metaphor for the film itself: a precious vase has been set precariously, just waiting to be knocked over and shattered. That does inevitably happen – or almost happens, as Nora does knock it, but catches it at the last minute, running away carrying it in her arms in order to escape confronting her father. It’s the kind of subversion that doesn’t feel like a subversion at all within the bounds of Sentimental Value’s sensible artfulness. One senses Trier feels a little too much affection for his characters to ever really let their vases shatter.
Sentimental Value is in cinemas now.