You, the Living – 2007 Andersson

You, the Living is Roy Andersson’s second in a trilogy that starts with 2000’s Songs From the Second Floor and concludes with 2013’s A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence
You, the Living confirms the genius (yep, genius) behind Songs From the Second Floor was no fluke or happy accident but an auteur in complete control, a meticulously constructed—beautiful frames, painterly, rigid editing structure and aesthetics
Goethe quote in the opening
First vignette the character is talking to the camera really about his dream (a nightmare in this case)—bombers coming. This will happen again and again in the film

The second vignette is a sing-along—music (the ironically upbeat ragtime jazz score, tuba, drummer, guitarist) is a prevalent motif

Teacher that cries in front of her student, a sad statement on man, who instead of exercising naturally is like a hamster or mouse on a wheel in this awful basement and perfectly depressing treadmill, pathetic businessmen and women huddled together like lemmings at a bus stop or in an elevator

A hazy overcast gray pervades most frames… characters are pale like zombies, lifeless world around them — matches the sorrow that permeates each vignette
18 minutes in the guy in the pickup in traffic talking to the camera about a dream
Apocalyptic, nightmare visions- one nightmare a man ruins this fine china and three judges drinking beer sentence him to the electric chair
A gorgeous frame at 28 minutes- guy in love seat with dog

One distinct tracking shot is the singing standing on chairs at the jubilee— stands out because the rest of the shots in the film are so similarity constructed – Andersson is showing off the set piece
a breathtaking tableau of the Louisiana brass band playing upbeat music to a massive thunderstorm at 37 minutes. One of 30 or so sustained shots here that belong on a wall in an art museum

Many of the frames are among the best images in cinema 2007 (yes, even in 2007), some appear to be duds (like the opener) but come back around later as they’re connected to one of the other 49 vignettes. Formally rigid. No cuts, no camera movement, attention to background as much as foreground, Ozu-like open doors, Jim Jarmusch-like scene construction, Tati-like mise-en-scene detail
Andersson’s characters embrace the camera in an open stance like in a painting—and he’s the master of angles. He builds his own sets in a studio because I don’t think you could find it.

At 70 minutes the girl is talking about her dream to the camera— then next to an Ozu doorway. The train station sequence is a standout (an entire set that moves, complete with open window) has one shot that switches angles to a reverse angle coverage shot. That too, like the two camera movements, throw you off because you’re so use to his vice-like grip on the structure and pacing

The 78 minute shot- singing in the bathroom tub— man behind immaculate doorway frame within a frame

Throughout the film you see characters looking out of the windows into the sky like Emma Stone in Birdman sort of – you won’t know why entire the final shot of the film, like Songs we’re ending with an apocalypse, ironically upbeat music
a masterpiece