Pity The Lovers

Meet Óskar and Maggi, two brothers with opposite sets of problems. Maggi has just emerged from yet another failed relationship, finding himself with nowhere to live as a result, so he moves in with Óskar who has just taken over the large suburban house once occupied by their parents. Óskar has recently reconnected with vet Anna (Sara Dögg Ásgeirsdóttir), a childhood friend (now treating his dog, Ottó) who plainly has feelings for him, which he completely fails to respond to. He’s habitually reclusive, struggling to connect with anybody, and as he reluctantly tries to cheer up his brother and teach him that there’s more to engaging with women than sex, his brother tries to coax him out of his shell.

There’s an ambiguity to the Icelandic title - Vesalings Elskendur – that doesn’t really translate into English. It raises the question of whether the characters are expressing love for particular people or are simply in love with love itself – with the latter looking more and more likely as the story develops. Both want to be in successful romantic relationships but miss every opportunity thrown their way. The love between the two of them is strong, however, and both develop an unexpected pseudo-paternal bond with the two 13-year-old goths (both called Danni) who also move into the house and seem to reflect something of the connection they had when growing up – even if the brothers have quite a bit to learn about the responsibility involved in looking after teenagers.

As Óskar and Maggi flounder, friends and relatives flock around, gently trying to prompt them to sort out their lives. There are reflections on the unreasonableness of women who bring up things like “What’s in that wall?” and “is it load-bearing?” in response to a simple case of taking the initiative and starting work on making a new window. Poor Ottó risks developing a complex as Óskar finds more and more supposed problems with his health in order to justify trips to the vet. And then there’s young conceptual artist Ingibjörg,who borrows their garden to work on a sculpture onto which she has pinned too many of her hopes, and who is sometimes uncomfortably blunt about explaining why she doesn’t find people attractive.

Deftly mixing observational comedy with an awareness of the brothers’ very real sorrows, Maximilian Hult’s second feature (after 2013’s Home) explores the changing ways that people deal with their common problems at different ages. It’s a meandering sort of tale without much sense of direction but it has its share of charm. If you’re looking for something gentle and thoughtful that doesn’t take itself too seriously, it could be right up your street.