Fault Lines

“I found a way to see in the dark. Close your eyes.” – anon.

Who, in their later years, has had this experience? You return to your place of child-hood, and a flood of memories rise to a sometimes-sweet, sometimes disquieting, level of consciousness. You drive past a house. The lights are on, a stranger’s car is in the driveway, and someone else is living their life in a place you once called your home. Some say you can’t go home again. Others are drawn to try, in order to find a way to settle something that may be still unresolved after all these years.

The Scandinavian film, OUT STEALING HORSES is just such a tale. Based on Per Petterson’s 2007 NYT best-seller by the same title, director/screenwriter Hans Petter Moland has created one of those slow-paced, meditative journeys of self-reflection and remembrance that characterize this type of foreign filmmaking; along with some of the most beautifully extraordinary cinematography you’ll find, depicted in nature.

Trond is a widower. He has returned to the Norwegian countryside where in his early adolescence he spent a Summer with a father from whom he will subsequently become estranged. A terrible accident will engulf multiple characters in a web of guilt and self-recrimination that will linger for the ensuing decades. The fault lines will run deep; resurfacing in other events.

The emerging rivalry between father and son as an adolescent’s interest in a vulnerable woman piques will re-enact a classic mythic story. The son will then prove his manhood with a “hero’s” journey; depicted with a horse race and in a logging river episode.

In the parting scene with a handsome, strong-willed father, the elder embraces his son, tussling his hair before gripping it tightly, to whisper in the boy’s ear, “It’s been quite a summer. but that’s life. Things happen. And it’s OK to think afterwards. But never be bitter. But you’re allowed to think.” And so Trond does.

At one point in the film, Trond will be confronted by the reappearance of a principle character from his child-hood past in the form of a neighbor that shares a haunting memory. “I know who you are,” Lars says plainly.

Trond will outwardly acknowledge what Lars reveals; while still wondering himself about his own self-identity. Nonetheless, Trond accepts his fate, muttering, ““I wish Lars hadn’t said what he said. It ties me to a past that seems almost indecent with lightness. It worries me a little. Something inside me is changing. I’m changing. Into someone I’m not at all familiar with.”

This is a fairly long-running film that not only requires a little patience by the viewer, but concentration, as well; as the scenes repeatedly move back and forth, from flashbacks to the present moments. This is the kind of film where things that remain unspoken are as important and telling as things that are said in the few words uttered. The implication in a glance, a nod, or a faint, painful smile is sometimes all the observant viewer is given.

Typical of this kind of foreign film, it feels undeniably real, authentic, and -- to those who like tidy resolution -- frustrating. The story simply suspends as much as it ends; leaving the viewer to simply wonder about possibilities, or construct your own ending. The film is intentionally full of fault lines in the characters for the viewer to ponder. It’s an exploratory venture.

So, a suggestion: Like the main character does himself at several scenes in the film, just close your eyes once in a while. And see in the dark. jb