Turist (Ruben Östlund, 2014)

Released internationally as Force Majeure, this esoteric Swedish drama wrongfoots the unsuspecting viewer on several occasions. The bare outline, a family on a ski holiday in the French Alps whose lives are turned upside down by an avalanche, suggests a survival nail-biter. This is what a diet of Hollywood pap does to our expectations, but then when it slowly becomes apparent quite another animal is on show, the longueurs of the static long shots and hyper-real mountain landscape cutaways in between the family's semi-autistic interactions start to jar. Until you realise that there is a metaphorical level at work throughout, and then the real agenda dawns: this is a representation of insecurity and miscommunication. After that realisation, it becomes vital and compelling. It does sail dangerously close to Bergmanesque introspective mania at several junctures, reminiscent of Scenes from a Marriage, but it's so rare to find a film these days that wears its art openly on its sleeve and really engages the mind, that the close calls simply have to be forgiven. It's not just for its magical cinematography that it lingers in the mind long after the screen has turned black.

8/10