The movie opens to an elegant woman, alone on a balcony while a bustling party takes place inside the apartment. The movie cuts to the title screen, and following a prologue chronicling the main character’s scattered journey to find herself in her career, and a Chapter One that finds her settling into a romantic relationship with an older man named Aksel, we return to the woman alone on the balcony. By this point, we know that her name is Julie, and that the party is a celebration of Aksel’s work. Whether to rejoin Aksel and the party, or to go her own way, is the central question of the film, The Worst Person in the World.
Buoyed by a whimsical pop soundtrack, the film hits some of the notes of a romantic comedy, as its narrative arc follows the rise and fall of Julie’s romantic relationships—first with Aksel, then with Eivind, the gentle barista closer to her own age. But such categorization would be unfair to the emotional depth of the film, grounded in Julie’s vulnerability and emotional authenticity, masterfully portrayed by Renate Reinsve, recognized as Best Actress for this role by the 2021 Cannes Film Festival. Julie tries on several identities, careers, hairstyles, and romantic partners, in search of a path about which she can feel absolutely certain. But is such certainty attainable? And in the face of uncertainty, should we prioritize our relationships with others, or the realization of individual fulfillment? Writer/Director Joachim Trier, and his frequent writing collaborator Eskil Vogt, dexterously leave the question for the audience to determine.
Trier effectively blurs the lines between the objective world and the world as perceived by Julie. An omniscient narrator at times reveals the contents of Julie’s thoughts, and at times narrates particularly emotional scenes, summarizing the inaudible dialogue even as we see the characters speaking. As a window into Julie’s thoughts and feelings, the narration eliminates any possibility of an objective perspective, in favor of events as Julie experiences them. To similar effect, in moments when Julie appears settled in a group, such as when she starts a dance party with Aksel’s over the hill, Gen-X friends, the camera alternates between close-ups of Julie, and outside shots that portray her as a member of a cohesive group. But the effect is to remind us that the appearance of group cohesion is an illusion. Julie does not view herself as a member of this group, in which the other women yell at their husbands and chase shrieking children, and the men tokenize her as the sparky younger woman who complains about disparities in the media’s portrayal of men’s and women’s sexual problems and eccentricities.
In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, Julie decides to leave Aksel for Eivind, and as she runs from Aksel pouring coffee in their apartment to Eivind pouring coffee at his work, everyone else in the city of Oslo becomes frozen in time. Julie runs from Aksel frozen mid coffee-pour, skips past her elderly neighbor frozen halfway up the stairs, dances past frozen men in business suits hauling suitcase, and jogs past frozen school children ambling with their backpacks.As she goes on to spend the day with Eivind, they are the only two operative, sentient people in the world. The sun rises and sets for she and Eivind alone.
As Julie settles into a relationship with Eivind, the narrator tells us that Eivind does not want children, as if this fact makes him a better choice for Julie than Aksel, who tried to pressure her to start a family. While Julie felt stifled by Aksel’s vision of their future together, she ultimately becomes frustrated with Eivind’s complacency and dearth of ambition. Or perhaps more accurately, she becomes frustrated with her own stagnation and indecisiveness about her future. Julie complained that during her relationship with Aksel, everything was always on his terms. With Eivind, things could be on her terms, if she only knew what those terms were.
The movie is also about generational divides and the expanded opportunities afforded to women with each new generation. During Julie’s 30th birthday dinner, the narrator tours Julie’s matriarchal lineage. At age 30, some of Julie’s female ancestors were divorced, some widowed, and at least one did not survive to 30; but all had children. Julie, who vacillates between wanting children and insisting she’s not ready, is aware that the decision to start a family remains risky for women in ways that it is not for men. Through Julie’s conversations with Aksel and her interactions with her own absent father, Trier and Vogt skim the surface of this theme without recognizing much nuance. But perhaps a film written by two male writers is wise to avoid answering questions, such as the one poised by Julie in an article that goes viral online: is it possible to be a feminist and also enjoy being sexually dominated?
After smoking alone on the balcony, Julie leaves Aksel’s party. She wanders through the city until she finds herself outside another party. She crashes, and it is there that she meets Eivind. So maybe the question is not whether to return to the party or leave alone, but rather, whether to return to the party or to crash a new one. At the end of the movie, Julie is alone, and the audience is left wandering if she will remain alone. The audience cannot help but root for Julie, but to do what? In a long tradition of films that follow a search for meaning, The Worst Person in the World is particularly moving both in the manner it poses questions and its failure to provide answers.