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Rating: The first corpse is accompanied by a pinch of tension, a good dose of mystery, and a fair amount of blood and violence. It seems like the captivating beginning of one of those typical I.K.E.A. thrillers made in Scandinavia, like "Men Who Hate Women," which are as fashionable as the little books crowding the shelves of commercial bookstores. Sparse and terse dialogues while the photography of a remote wintery Norway delights our eyes with images of rare beauty: you might even need a sweater in the spring warmth of a cinema without air conditioning. The second corpse has as its soundtrack the dry sound of a nasal septum and a jaw breaking. The progression of horizontal bipeds increases with the third and fourth in rapid succession with the fury of a father, tormented by the death of his son, in search of a healthy and biblical revenge from the Old Testament. From the seat of a gigantic six-ton snowplow (cf. Steven Spielberg's Duel) he will find a way to deliver justice.
After this hard and granite beginning, the work changes profoundly: brilliant dialogues emerge, the pace becomes more compelling, and strong grotesque tones stand out that make the long progression of passings almost entertaining. It's as if "Fargo" and "Pulp Fiction" made love for a dark comedy with a good dose of blood, a sufficiently convoluted plot with a web of characters that fits together in the end. But besides that, I also found a touch of silent sarcasm à la Kaurismaki, a lot of self-irony with which the director has captured a series of clichés about Scandinavia and the outside world.
It's a comedy disguised as a thriller and, although maintaining a high dose of violence, it doesn't aim to be credible; it does so with a series of ingenious ideas that will make you roll out of your chair like the vegan drug dealer, the pair of homosexual thugs, the discussions on the welfare state, and an endless series of small and delightful delicacies intentionally out of place that irreparably undermine the false initial structure. The sets are meticulously crafted: a sort of Wes Anderson in black and white, and the chromatic contrast is used to highlight the difference between locals and foreigners, between good and evil.
Kitano, Tarantino, Coen, Kaurismaki. Even Anderson. No, I don't believe I can define Hans Peter Holland's work as innovative, but it maintains balance, is very well acted with careful characterization of the characters (among whom stand out Bruno Ganz, Stellan Skarsgård, and Pål Sverre Hagen). It doesn't falter in the end, it makes you laugh heartily and with class.
The Italian title, "In ordine di sparizione," as usual, is a disaster. I close my eyes and it brings to mind a white rice I used to devour as a child to counteract the diarrhea that, punctually, would visit me after binges on sweets and various junk. Nestled in the schedule of film releases between resurrected giant lizards in three dimensions and incognito mutants, also in three dimensions, the aforementioned work, also due to the not very enticing title, might go unnoticed.
It would be a shame if you ignored it, because it deserves a screening in the cinema.
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