by Douglas Messerli
Sverre Kvamme (screenwriter and director) Villdyr
(Wild Beasts) / 2017 [10
minutes]
Norwegian director Sverre Kvamme begins in
powerful short film with two young boys, the curly haired more dominant of the
two, moving in toward the other time and again almost as if were an exercise
routine, but with the sound effects of a rhythmic pumping that transforms the
scene into a kind of sexual act, made ludicrous by the winter landscape and
their heavy coats, but no less powerful for its impact upon the two boys. It is
clear that the more innocent of the two (Mads Pettersen and Erlend Antonsen Meløy)
is already desperately in love—if you can define an intense pre-pubescent
desire in that manner—with his friend.
In
a grocer’s, the more dominant boy, Jonas, fills his friend’s backpack with
stolen candy, and they run away from the store, Jonas hugged for his daring by
the girls in their “gang.” One of the girls even kisses the curly-headed thief,
his friend looking on in a bemused manner, but perhaps already revealing his
jealousy for the freedom to act in such a manner.
The
nameless red-cheeked friend, however, wonders off into another room where he
discovers a large hammer, checking it out with a few slams to a table before
laying it down and sitting upon the floor in seeming thoughtfulness. His
silence is interrupted by his friend running into the room with a girl on the
chase.
He
immediately rises, pulling his friend away from the girl, demanding his friend
lay down. The boy begrudgingly does so, frustrated by even having to give in to
the weaker boy’s demands. With hammer in hand once again, he straddles the
other boy’s body, putting the hammer over his friend’s head. When the one asks
what he’s doing it, he responds only with a question, “Do you trust me?”
The curly-headed kid cautiously expresses, “Yes.”
Again, the rosy-cheeked boy asks, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
After a long pause, he asks, “Ready,” lifting the hammer over his head,
the girl looking on in horror, Jonas almost pleading, “What are you gonna do?”
Calling out his name, he brings down the hammer beside him, the girl suddenly
pulling it out of his hand and shouting out, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Give me the hammer,” the boy demands, she responding, “Are you a complete
idiot?”
His
angry answer is crucial for comprehending what all of these strange events
might mean. “Why do you always have to destroy?” Jonas, standing, shakes his
head as the girl walks off uncomprehendingly.
One might first imagine that the boy is asking her about the destruction
of this derelict houses’ objects, although we also recognize she has also just
destroyed the test to which he was putting Jonas, a test of trust and love. But
what she truly has destroyed for the boy, I would argue, is the singular
relationship he had with Jonas which we observed in the very first scene,
interrupted by her and the other’s girls attempts to pull Jonas into their
orbit with their expressions of normative heterosexual love.
Jonas turns back to his friend with a look of utter exasperation,
appearing to comprehend his motives but also disapproving of them.
The girls rush ahead, taking a leap off the wharf into the fjord. Jonas
is rushing ahead until his friend puts his arms around him and pulls him back,
Jonas asking, “What?” as his friend replies, “You will die. …I don’t want you
to die.”
Jonas permits the hug for a few seconds longer before almost brutally
pushing the red-cheeked boy away from him and thrusting him to the ground as he
dives off into the cold waters.
Our young friend stands, looks down into the deep arctic waters, and, as
he momentarily recalls the warm body of his beloved friend, dives in. He has
passed Jonas’ test, in his mind risking his own life for his friend.
If these are wild beasts, they are not mindlessly marauding and
plundering their space, but unknowingly playing out the most serious of mating
rituals, making and testing alliances for years to come.
Los Angeles, May 13, 2023
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (May
2023).




No comments:
Post a Comment