The Worst Person in the World

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind meets Fleabag in Norway with this smart romcom about a drifting bookshop worker (Renate Reinsve) nearing 30.

It’s sobering and moving, without too many contrivances or too much sentimentality.

Blending melancholy wistfulness with unruly energy and piercing humour, it’s a down-to-earth tale of love and death, boosted by a brilliantly believable central performance and elevated by fantastical moments of hallucinogenic horror and ecstatic joy.

When the wind blows, and on many other occasions, this is the best film in the world.

Some sequences simply don’t work. But Reinsve’s performance, warm and fearless, more than compensates and Trier should be celebrated for his ambition and, more importantly, for going there.

The Worst Person in the World carries a shimmery feeling of definitiveness to it. It’s the rare piece of art actually invested in why an entire generation can seem so aimless and indecisive.

Lovely Norwegian film. It has been a long time since I felt so invigorated and even gratified after watching a film... [Full review in Spanish]

Trier is a gifted storyteller. The Worst Person in the World shows off the filmmaker’s command of rhythm and his affinity for the perfectly placed pop song.

The soul of the film is exploring how life is about figuring it out. It speaks to this idea that at some point we are all destined to blossom into these superior beings we were told we would be at a young age leading to waiting instead of living.



Through Reinsve's depiction of Julie combined with a resounding script to work with, she shares with us the realization that life is fleeting, confusing, unfair and excruciating, but so incredibly beautiful.