O'Horten

A Norwegian film, about a train driver, Odd Horten, O’Horten, who retires after nearly forty years of timetables and routine, and finds life opening up before him; not, initially, an inviting prospect, but eventually, after a series of funny, bizarre, sad episodes, some inconsequential, some more significant, he embraces his future and its possibilities. So something that can help with preparation for retirement then, but only if used as part of a carefully planned diet of films. If in doubt, seek medical advice.

It’s beautifully filmed, though, to English eyes, quite, well, odd. For example, the hero sits in his train cab, in a restaurant, on a tram, always puffing contentedly on his pipe; something we all know is illegal. There is a whole shop dedicated to pipes, cigarettes and tobacco. His flat is plainly furnished, in a style most older Brits would know as “utility”. With the exception of the trains and cars, and the occasional household appliance, this could be the nineteen fifties. And there are dreamy sequences of sleek trains speeding through snowy landscapes; something all British people know to be a preposterous fantasy – trains cannot work in such conditions. Also, everywhere seems to be unlocked, even at night; swimming pools, other people’s homes, ski jumps, airports, engine sheds, all open at all times. And it’s very dark all the time.

The experience of the film was enhanced by the experience of the auditorium. A Georgian building, the theatre is very tall, with what would have been shuttered windows, high above the floor, and about ten feet high. The entrance and exit doors are also tall, each one about eight feet high. The seating is basic, but with quite a lot of leg and aisle space. As I sat there looking up at the screen I began to feel rather small, and to wonder if I’d be able to reach the door handle on the way out.

A lovely film, the humour is gentle and sly, some may not like the upbeat ending after all the dark, but, yes, good.