Editor’s Notes: A Pigeon Sat On a Branch Reflecting on Existence opens across Canada on June 12th.
I don’t often find myself in the cinema eagerly awaiting the opening credits of a comedy feature, but there I was. There was an odd anticipation around this dark comedy that had lured me in. You might be surprised to note that I hadn’t a clue about the director’s body of work. In fact I hadn’t seen anything past the trailers available online before buying the ticket. Somewhat of a mix between festival enthusiasm and the overall imagery of the piece attracted me to what I can now confirm as the funniest and yet darkest film I’ve seen since, well not much else I can remember seeing. It’s not exactly comparable to much expect director Roy Andersson’s previous films and it certainly got those heads talking this year.
At times the humour is an eloquent slapstick, other times its so dark it’s almost not making a joke, more of a statement.
I understand that an audience expectation is placed on a comedy, even one that’s listed as a black comedy. A comedy so dark as to suggest that the usual laughter filling the theatre simultaneously may not be the case. Those who didn’t get the hint were likely expecting another two hours of tongue in cheek frivolity that’s a bit risky, as seen in The Guard and In Bruges. At times the humour is an eloquent slapstick, other times its so dark it’s almost not making a joke, more of a statement.
Grand allusions to colonial history and mankind’s horrific treatment of his fellow man is underpinned in a superb couple of minutes of bizarre fantasy imagery that’s unforgettable for all the right reasons. In other sequences, the simple task of opening a bottle of wine becomes a matter of life and death. There’s a thematic interest running through the film devoted by a single line of dialogue that becomes an ironic focus to the scene settings. As we travel along the markedly dense and fantastical exploration of what it is to be human, Andersson manages to unleash some of the greater questions society doesn’t like tackling.
The narrative is incredibly loose, some might argue against the existence of one at all. A series of odd melodramatic sequences plays in different banal everyday life situations. We enter and leave the tale of two travelling salesmen whose main aim in their work is to make people happy through enjoying their novelty items. A bag of laughs, vampire false teeth and a quite disturbing ‘uncle one tooth’ mask are offering to the masses. In a way the study of the human condition can be contained in the neat little suitcase they carry around, full of blind hope and repetition.
Morbid curiosity is surely the root cause of entertainment value here. The dull lives of the people we encounter often become interesting through unfortunate events and their own miserable predicaments.
Morbid curiosity is surely the root cause of entertainment value here. The dull lives of the people we encounter often become interesting through unfortunate events and their own miserable predicaments. What’s even more delightful is when you’re accepting of the flow of obscure happenings in the grey palette of a world Andersson creates. Embrace it and experience something uniquely designed with humans in mind.
Pigeon does leave me with an unanswerable question though. What if everyday life looked like that, and what if that is the everyday life we’re all so content to muddle along with? If so, Andersson you’ve opened a minefield in my mind of how to view certain scenarios. I’d like to return to that monkey scene again and endeavour to comprehend more of Andersson’s brilliance. One for the pigeon please.
What’s even more delightful is when you’re accepting of the flow of obscure happenings in the grey palette of a world Andersson creates. Embrace it and experience something uniquely designed with humans in mind.
