The Worst Person in the World (2021)

The Millenial Struggle

In the midst of a weekend getaway predominantly comprised of individuals in their forties, Julie, 29, becomes the subject of amateur psychoanalysis by a well-meaning older woman. The elder woman observes that being young today is different, acknowledging the heightened pressures that millennials face in their daily lives. She suggests that the younger generation has little time for reflection due to constant distractions on screens. The iPhones and the iPads, the whole nine yards. This is what observation the millennial generation has gradually gotten used to; the type of observation, ostensibly sympathetic but subtly patronizing. Like a bitter sweet tonic water, it would be disingenuous to flat out deny, yet like so many of today’s millennials, Julie wants to stand up and scream that it just is not the full story.

A profound sense of unease permeates the soul as society’s harsh expectations mark the gradual waning of one’s youth. Amidst the demanding theatrics, the closing chapters of the twenties and the steady march towards the thirties, an urgent yearning takes root. It is an incessant drive to define oneself, to attain noteworthy accomplishments, and to find everlasting love — all in a relentless pursuit to prove one’s worth within the fleeting bounds of earthly existence. This tireless pursuit of success and fulfillment stands as evidence of the societal burden to achieve tangible feats and create a meaningful imprint that endures, which also translates to something that ultimately can be showed for.

First, it was medicine, only to realize that her next step lies in psychology, but even that pursuit is short-lived as she reinvents herself yet again as a photographer. This volatility translates to her love life as well.

I feel like a spectator in my own life.

Still in the midst of understanding the complexities of maturity, Julie endures this with her partner, who luckily, is not complexed, though he is much older than she is. Unveiling her soul, she confronts the quintessential internal struggles that typify millennial anxiety, entangled in a web of frustration and a sense of being confined. Amidst this labyrinthine journey of self-exploration, she grapples with profound feelings of discontent. Her romance with Aksel, does not last.

In the several years culminating into the significant turning point of her 30th birthday. Julie’s own life, stuck in a state of limbo, and who honestly has their life completely figured out before the ripe old age of thirty? And where should a thirty year old find themself at this stage? Finally finishing up their PhD that might or might not guarantee them a job upon graduation? Roaring to climb the corporate ladder, eventually becoming just another cog in a well-driven machine? The prospect of children might seem less daunting, provided that there is a partner waiting at home. These uncertainties take on a palpable form, particularly as Julie contends with her own restless nature. As the chapters progress, a dramatic twist alters her perception of life, yet it doesn’t necessarily provide a definitive resolution to her predicament.

But first, breaking up with Aksel feels wrong; he has a decent career, a safe and sensible option, though she finds herself unprepared for the level of commitment he seeks. Further, she relentlessly berates herself over unpreventable shortcomings that really are inevitable. She contemplates traditionalism against conventionalism where the film explores the notion of seeking alternative ways of living to discover one’s purpose, prompting the question of whether this pursuit is frivolous or an authentic quest for meaning.

I don’t know. I need to do more first.

Eivind feels more “in her league”. For once, Julie finds another millennial lost at sea, and he turns out to be resolute about only one thing: children, or rather an insistence against. Still, they prove to be a better match for each other. Their romance becomes an intrigue in building a relationship tower without conventional, set-in-stone foundations, where each partner is hesitant to impose constraints on the other, hence not a perfect match. Her romance with Eivind does not last either.

Of course, much credit has to go the way of Renate Reinsve. The actress’ performance is nothing short of an enchanting tour de force, a masterful display of acting prowess that seamlessly navigates through Julie’s evolving journey. Director Joachim Trier skillfully depicts the character through chronological chapters of her life, affording Reinsve the opportunity to showcase not only her remarkable range but also her skill in crafting a character through subtle yet profound emotional tantrums. It is this sort of portrayal that captivates and enthralls, leaving an indelible impression of artistry at its finest. In her quest for brief yet exhilarating encounters, she eventually comes to a powerful realization: the search for answers and validation from others may have led her astray, for all along, these essential elements have been residing within her, patiently waiting to be uncovered and embraced. Now 35, it feels like Reinsve has finally achieved her big break, so she must have shared this unyielding doubt with her onscreen character as well.

Criticism

For all its much deserved glory, The Worst Person in the World feels like an eye-opener, just like it should draw criticism or at the very least, caution. There is an anxiety that arises from the vast array of choices available. This profound idea lies at the core of Julie’s internal struggle, showcasing the contradiction between the fear of failure and the allure of taking daring risks. While many individuals shy away from stepping outside their comfort zones, Julie fearlessly embraces uncertainty, diving headlong into the uncharted territory. The film’s poster captures a mesmerizing moment when Julie freezes time, embarking on a fearless journey to meet Eivind, symbolizing man’s collective yearning to confront existential uncertainties with resolute determination and a radiant smile.

Despite facing moments of uncertainty and grappling with making decisions, Julie comes to the realization that she must break free from the monotonous routine that no longer satisfies her. In doing so, she liberates herself from what tethers her down, allowing her to soar to new heights. Such a bold leap is not easily taken by everyone, as the comfort and security of familiarity often impede the pursuit of the daunting unknown. All of that sounds very honourable, but how often is an ordinary citizen capable of switching from medicine to psychology to photography like that? Julie owes these changes to the country where she resides, a Scandinavian social welfare centre whose generosity might not be shared by the majority of the world. Without souring the mood too much, it is arguably more important to find establishment somewhere instead of floating around nowhere for decades. Time will catch up.

Trier’s The Worst Person in the World culminates into a brilliant creation that gracefully unravels, much like pieces of a mosaic coming together to form an authentic tapestry, adorned with genuine experiences and the intricate dance of uncertain truths. This engrossing narrative subtly challenges the notion of a definitive life-altering moment where everything aligns perfectly like jigsaw puzzles foreseen a decade ago.

Amidst this ephemeral existence, where the ensemble of beginnings and endings plays in an unpredictable cadence, minor victories harmonize with profound disappointments, and the grand orchestration of life remains absent, the significance of plans gone awry seemingly fades. What truly matters is the audacity to confront the remnants of former dreams or past relationships and bravely embrace a fresh start. It necessitates the acknowledgment that familiar missteps may resurface and the throes of personal growth may persist, all while wholeheartedly embracing the understanding that man’s (or woman’s) journey follows a unique rhythm, unrestricted by any external timeline.