Joachim Trier’s The Worst Person in the World is a restless, magnetic portrait of a generation caught between the fear of missing out and the dread of settling down. Set in a dreamy, melancholic Oslo, the film follows Julie, a 30-something woman navigating careers, lovers, and a world that demands clarity while offering none.
| 🎬 The Worst Person in the World | ℹ Movie Details |
|---|---|
| Country | Norway |
| 📅 Year | 2021 |
| 🎭 Genre | Drama, Romance, Coming-of-Age |
| ⏳ Runtime | 128 minutes |
| 🎬 Director | Joachim Trier |
| ⭐ Main Actors | Renate Reinsve, Anders Danielsen Lie, Herbert Nordrum |
The film’s episodic structure – 12 chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue – mirrors the fragmented nature of modern life and identity. Renate Reinsve’s performance as Julie is nothing short of luminous, capturing the contradictory impulses of a woman who is neither a heroine nor a victim, but someone deeply, confusingly human. Her nuanced portrayal earned her the Best Actress award at Cannes, and rightfully so.
Trier avoids judgment. Instead, he explores with honesty and tenderness the shifting sands of love, ambition, and regret. The film feels emotionally autobiographical without being confessional. Its cinematography glows with light and shadow, with several surreal and visually stunning moments – especially that electric freeze-frame sequence through the streets of Oslo – standing as testaments to Trier’s lyrical style.
Julie becomes a mirror for so many who feel untethered from traditional milestones. The film dissects the anxieties of self-definition, not through dramatic plot twists, but through everyday indecisions and quiet turning points. Her relationships – with Aksel, an older comic book artist, and later with Eivind, a more easygoing barista – are less love triangles than emotional echoes of who she might have been.
As with much of Trier’s work, Oslo becomes a character in itself: beautiful, intimate, and ghostlike. The city is not just a setting but a psychological space where time folds into memory and longing. The score, ranging from soft piano to retro pop, underscores the emotional swings without ever overwhelming them.
The Worst Person in the World doesn’t offer neat conclusions. Instead, it sits gently with uncertainty – something many viewers may recognize as deeply true. It’s a film about becoming, unbecoming, and the possibility of being okay with simply not knowing.
This isn’t just one of the most important Norwegian films of the last decade – it’s one of the most universally resonant, a quietly radical reminder that confusion is not a failure, but a phase of life to be honored.
