This Swedish film’s entry into Tribeca proves that it can enjoy art-house success while also appealing to an audience beyond the burgeoning LGBTQ circuit.
“This is not a film about sexuality, but one about love” – Ester Martin Bersgmark
When Swedish filmmaker Ester Martin Bersgmark’s Something Must Break made its US premiere at last month’s Tribeca Film Festival, both critics and audiences acknowledged that while this “accomplished offering” of a film was indeed a breath of fresh air, it perhaps could have benefited from an extra coat of narrative refinement and consistency. A somewhat avant-guarde account of the destructive aspects of falling in love, this art-house film brims with raw electricity as it depicts the story of Sebastian: an androgynous non-gender normative individual who becomes instantly infatuated with “straight”-identifying Andreas, as the former slowly begins embracing their transformation to “Ellie”. Based on Eli Leven’s semi-autobiographical novel You Are the Roots That Sleep Beneath My Feet and Hold the Earth in Place, Something Must Break marks Bersgmark’s first foray into fiction and second collaboration with co-scriptwriter Leven (a trans artist who was previously the subject of Bersgmark’s poetic documentary She Male Snails). When I sat down with Bersgmark, Leven, and star Saga Becker during Tribeca; I was curious to know what inspired their decision to adapt Leven’s novel, and even to hear what the film was about in their words. “Rather than focus on plot, I wanted to tell a chemistry-driven story about two people who fall in love; and how such an experience can feel like getting butterflies in your stomach, and at the same time like you are getting punched in the stomach. Leven and I share the same romantic view on the world…I was inspired by the novel’s language and how its author transforms harsh reality into something that is beautiful. Our screenplay reflects that gaze, and [the film] should smell of strong emotions”, notes Bersgmark.
An outcry against society’s binary gender system, this “blood and wine soaked love story” tracks the progression of a romance between two unlikely individuals in a very honest, naked and raw manner. The film begins with a stylistically impressive yet slightly tropic close-up shot of thorns adorning a rosebush, as Sebastian’s voice-over narration begins—an inner monologue that reflects their unhappy loneliness and struggle with gender identity. Scouting underground clubs and dive bars, Sebastian attempts to satiate this void through random sex; which seems to be a bizarre form of release, gratification and punishment for our protagonist. Then one day during an unsuccessful ‘cruising’, S. is rescued from a violent, gay-bashing homophobe by the greasy yet dashing, leather jacket-clad Andreas (played by Iggy Malmborg)—and the two slowly drift into a tentative yet intensely passionate affair. Set amidst the backdrop of muted IKEA society within Sweden’s back streets and forgotten parks—away from the cosmopolitan environment of the Stockholm metropolis—there is an underground, “us against the world” tone to their romance, which is further heightened by slightly shaky camerawork and a grainy visual aesthetic. However, as the duo’s intoxicating connection develops, there is also an element of contentious discord brewing beneath the surface as Andreas struggles with his feelings for Sebastian/what that means in terms of his “heterosexuality,” while the former is increasingly determined to become “Ellie” even if that means letting Andreas go.
“This is not a film about sexuality, but one about love—although I am very interested in the representation of sex”, stated Bergsmark during our interview. Indeed, one cannot overlook the sexual charge of Something Must Break, as the film constantly balances and negotiates love and sex in a way that is slightly reminiscent of Abdellatif Kechiche’s organically stark approach in Blue is the Warmest Color (or that of Giorgos Lanthimos in Dogtooth). Take for example the first sex scene between Sebastian and Andreas: at this point the two haven’t even kissed, yet they begin to undress and examine the ticks on each other’s bodies as the camera beautifully observes this innocent sense of exploration. With an objective intensity, Bersgmark captures the raw, naturally grotesque yet sensual mechanics of intercourse between the lovers—making the warm, music-less first orgasm in this scene particularly potent. Even the sex scenes between Sebastian and other partners are captured with a truthfully monotone gaze that reflects our character’s lonely apathy, in a way that is aesthetically thrilling to watch. As I brought up these parallels to Blue in an attempt to understand European cinema’s depiction of sex, Bersgmark remarked: “Yes, I have heard that comparison before. The truth is, sex is not violent or beautiful; it’s just there as a natural part of human existence, a product of wanting to be seen and touched.” With most of the sex taking place during the day (except for one club scene set to Peggy Lee’s “You’re My Thrill”), there is a particular triumph of unadorned composition and mood during these sequences—as though the cinematography itself were caressing our characters in a way that truthfully harnesses both the pain and the pleasure; the innocence and the impulsivity of sex.
While Sebastian and Andreas certainly have a sexual chemistry between them, there’s also an emotional anti-chemistry; with the sense that each individual’s struggle for self-identity will always come in the way between them. The miscommunication, shame, and embarrassment following the first love scene serve as signs that our two main characters will never feel the same way about each other at the same time, as though they “love past each other” (Film School Rejects). While many would argue that the film’s “queer star-crossed lovers” story is a bit cliché, Bersgmark introduces a refreshing twist to our characters’ dynamic by adding the layer of a dual self-discovery; and while the film certainly focuses on Sebastian, one can argue as to which of the two goes through a greater transformation during the course of the story. It’s also interesting to note that although Sebastian is clearly transgender, the film refuses to assign any gender-identity labels—which not only emphasizes Sebastian’s confusion, but allows the film to avoid any political statement. Rather than enlightening our main character or turning them into a role model, Bersgmark is instead interested in humanizing Sebastian in a way that isn’t condescending or judgmental. Simply put, Something Must Break tells a very specific story without tact; even if this confusing tumult means the demise of Sebastian and Andreas’ relationship. “I’m not gay”, notes Andreas. “Me neither!” replies Sebastian. Their situation is a conundrum.
A non-professional actor and trans woman in real life, Becker is polished into a fascinating muse as Sebastian/Ellie, and I love how Bersgmark’s frequent yet well-framed close-ups shots of Becker’s face subliminally emphasizes her septum ring which was in fact a pleasantly unique feature to focus on (imagine my thrill at seeing Saga wear it in person as I realized that this was not a prop at all!). The film also boasts a boldly eclectic and throbbing soundtrack that ranges from glitchy, gloomily distorted techno to ethereal club beats—and it is this vibrational accordion sound design that truly shines as the strongest element within the film. However, Something also suffers from a few technical missteps; an example of which is Sebastian’s hit or miss voice-over narration at the beginning, which tends to be prophetically generic. With a “blank stare” expression that seems a bit overdone, Sebastian’s sullenness in the first half of the film wears thin and does little to make them intriguing; although the second half picks up as they take on a more self-aware and confident tone. Yet the film does do an effective job at interweaving the ugly and the pretty as it blurs the lines between erotically charged glamour and bleak vulnerability. There are moments where the script and harsh technical style of the film nicely compliments this duality; the most memorable being the moment Andreas utters to Sebastian; “You’re so beautiful I want to vomit.”
However, embracing the “dirtiness” can also have its limits, and the film oftentimes borders on unnecessary provocation—an example of which is the aforementioned club scene where Sebastian gets peed on in slo-mo while the soundtrack plays “You’re My Thrill”. It’s wonderful to see a director who takes such technically bold risks; but at times it seems like they will find any excuse to employ their arsenal of stylistic bells and whistles, and the film sometimes struggles in finding its niche. Bersgmark is striving for a certain poetic interiority that is undermined by scenes of expressive un-subtlety—and while the film’s art-house experimentation does succeed at times, it lacks a certain stylistic restraint that ultimately hinders the introspection of the film, rather than serving as instrumental pieces of storytelling.
“In some ways, I am getting closer to the characters and to real life in fiction,” reflects Bersgmark on the paradox that drama can sometimes have a more truthfully intimate quality than documentary. Overall, despite its occasional technical blunders, ‘Something Must Break’ succeeds in confronting issues of gender identity in a way that sheds light on both the grace and the pain of such a struggle. Bersgmark presents an authentically complicated tale of love and self-discovery, and their film is both empowering and empathetic. ‘Something Must Break’ indeed takes on a beautifully defiant tone, but it does so in a way that isn’t transgressive or revolutionary—and the film can only be viewed in such a light if the humanity of Ellie and other trans folk are ever doubted in the first place.
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