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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
If you like movies that feel like a Sunday afternoon spent in a quiet, slightly drafty library, you might find something to love in Inled mig i frestelse. It is slow, it is very talky, and it is obsessed with people who are obsessed with their own little problems. If you need explosions or even a brisk pace, stay far, far away. This is not that kind of party.
The whole thing takes place in Lund, which feels like a character all its own—stiff, academic, and a bit snooty. Professor Möbius is the kind of guy who probably hasn't felt the sun on his face in a week. He lives entirely inside his books. It’s sad, sure, but also kinda funny how much he tries to dodge reality.
Then there is his aunt, Miss Lundén. She runs the house like she's balancing the national budget, and honestly, the power dynamic is the best part of the film. Every time she walks into a room, the air just gets thinner. It’s a classic setup, but it works because the actors really lean into the misery of being stuck together.
There’s a specific scene where Möbius tries to hide a book—or maybe it's a feeling, I wasn't entirely sure—and the way he fumbles with his spectacles is just so human. It’s a small, awkward beat that most directors would cut, but here, it lingers. It makes him feel like a real person, not just a trope of the absent-minded professor.
It’s funny comparing this to something like Flying Devils. Where that movie is all motion and noise, this one is static and suffocating in a way that feels almost intentional. It’s like the house is closing in on them.
I found myself zoning out for a bit during the middle act, but then Möbius did something so petty I had to snap back to attention. It’s not a masterpiece, and it doesn't try to be. It’s just a weird, quiet glimpse into a life I’m very glad I don’t lead. Sometimes that’s enough. 📚
