In Norwegian director Joachim Trier’s debut film “Reprise,” the male bonding portrayed goes far beyond Judd Apatowian mushroom-scarfing in Vegas (see “Knocked Up”). Rather, the film deeply and beautifully explores how two best friends endure the perils of their youthful volatility together and how their friendship survives the startling tragedies that come with it.
Phillip (Anders Danielsen Lie) and Erik (Espen Klouman Hoiner) are the two best friends with nearly everything in common. Both are young, charming, aspiring authors who mail their first novel manuscripts in together (at the same exact time, for that matter). A series of fast-forwarded cuts and voice-overs that predict what “might have” happened once the manuscripts have dropped into the box makes it a bit unclear as to what “actually” happened. However, once we get our bearings, we find out that Phillip’s novel is the chosen one ““ granting him wide acclaim and pseudo-celebrity.
But this twist of fate comes with a price. Another series of fast-forwards to six months later reveals that Phillip has not been coping well with the results of his artistic explosion: Erik picks him up from a psychiatric hospital where he has been staying for attempting suicide. Throughout the rest of the film, we watch Phillip struggle with the psychological pressures his craft has laid upon him and his attempt to salvage his last romantic relationship.
While we watch Phillip strain with his mental demons, Erik does the only thing a friend can do: offer his love and support while moving on with his own life by continuing to pursue a career as a writer.
Trier cleverly teases us with suspense multiple times ““ will Phillip descend back into his crippling depression? There’s a hovering sense of dread that he might, but Trier’s brilliant use of comic relief that portrays “boys being boys” running around Oslo lightens up these moments without diminishing the depth of Phillip’s problem.
A breakthrough moment in the film comes when Phillip and Erik’s gang of friends crash a fancy party boringly stifled by smooth R&B jams and the reserved discussions of the stuffy guests. Rather than awkwardly socialize with the rest of them, one of their friends takes out his iPod, plugs it into the speakers, and ““ boom ““ on comes snotty dance-party anthem “Deceptacon” by the raucous Le Tigre, which immediately catches on to the rest of the guests, who start jumping and singing ““ a momentary return to their freewheeling youth. It sounds like it could have been an incredibly corny scene, but it rivals the power of the “Tiny Dancer” sing-a-long in “Almost Famous” because of the relief it brings to the broken characters.
Trier’s innovative directorial style is fresh yet classic ““ using sharp, artistic cuts with visceral close-ups on the faces and hands of his characters. Combined with these beautiful visuals are hilarious flashbacks to the friends as young punks with telling voiceovers that make us feel like we’re included in their inside jokes.
You won’t want it to end, but “Reprise” leaves you feeling beautifully enriched ““ as if you’ve just finished a really great book.