Min svärmor - dansösen: A Charming, Dusty Swedish Trip

Is it worth it?

Look, if you are the kind of person who enjoys tracking down obscure black-and-white comedies from the thirties just to see how people once held their cigarettes or tilted their hats, then Min svärmor - dansösen is probably going to be a fun hour for you. If you are looking for pacing, punchy dialogue, or anything that feels even remotely urgent, stay far away. This is not a movie that cares if you are bored. It just wants to exist in its own little bubble.

It feels like a play that someone decided to film on a weekend. There is a lot of people standing around in parlors, talking about travel and social obligations, and the camera barely moves. It’s incredibly static. At times, the actors look like they are waiting for a train that is perpetually delayed.

I found myself staring at the background furniture more than the plot. The chairs look incredibly uncomfortable, like they were designed by someone who hated human backs. Why is the wallpaper in that one scene so aggressively floral? It’s distracting in the best way possible.

There is a moment where Åke Ohberg does this little double-take that just goes on for about four seconds too long. It’s painfully awkward, but also kind of endearing because you can see him thinking, 'Did I leave the stove on back in Barcelona?' It’s those little, unpolished human glitches that make these old films feel alive, unlike the plastic-perfect stuff we get today.

The whole trip to Stockholm is really just an excuse to get these characters into the same room so they can misunderstand each other for an hour. It’s a bit like watching Sally's Blighted Career if you swapped the manic energy for a heavy dose of Swedish reserve. Everything stays very polite, even when people are clearly annoyed with each other.

Odd observations from the couch:

• The sound quality is exactly what you expect: a bit crackly, like listening to a ghost tell a joke.
• I really wanted someone to just open a window. The air in these rooms feels so heavy.
• Tollie Zellman steals every scene she is in, mostly by just looking unimpressed with everyone else.
• There is a distinct lack of exterior shots. I think I saw a street for about thirty seconds, then it was right back to the wallpaper.

It’s not a masterpiece, and honestly, it’s not trying to be. It feels like a small, dusty postcard from a time when a simple misunderstanding about a dancer mother-in-law was enough to drive an entire feature film. It’s got this weirdly cozy vibe, like eating cold porridge on a rainy Tuesday. Not exactly exciting, but it fills a hole.

If you liked the vibe of Nixchen, you might find something to chew on here. But don't expect a revelation. Just expect to spend an afternoon in a room with some very polite Swedes who have no idea how to resolve their own problems without talking in circles for seventy minutes. Sometimes, that is enough.