A MAN CALLED OVE

Remember when the ownership of a Holden or a Ford was tribal? The same kind of one car nation or the other raises its quaint and parochial head in the Swedish episodic comedy, A MAN CALLED OVE.

Curmudgeon sexagenarian Ove is a Saab man through and through, with unmitigated disdain for Volvo drivers, although that at least is better than Audi, – “four zeros on the grille and one behind the wheel” is his disparaging default.

Recently widowed, Ove is the quintessential angry old man next door, the self appointed and opinionated neighbourhood watchman, with strict principles and a short fuse, who spends his days enforcing block association rules that only he cares about, and visiting his wife’s grave.

When suddenly retrenched, Ove decides that life is finally not worth living. He decides to commit suicide, but after a series of attempts, it appears that life is not ready to give up on Ove.

Into his solitary, isolated life, enter a boisterous young family next door headed up by Parvenah, an Iranian refugee married to a Swede, played by Bahar Pars. Parvenah is a Swedish actress and director born in Iran who came to Sweden in 1989 after her family fled the war between Iraq and Iran.

Parvenah and her family form an unlikely friendship, and through this relationship and a series of flashbacks, we come to understand Ove’s past happiness and his heartbreaks.

Parvenah can be just as prickly as Ove, but she is not as brittle. Her personality begins to soften Ove’s hard edges and the narrative emerges as a tale of unreliable first impressions and the gentle reminder that life is sweeter when it’s shared.

One of Sweden’s biggest locally-produced box office hits ever, A MAN CALLED OVE does suffer from a sticky sentimentality and episodic through line.

The film was nominated this year for Best Foreign Language Film Oscar and does not compare with the winner, The Salesman or other contenders, especially, Land of Mine.
It’s heart is in the right place, however, and its a pleasant if undemanding couple of hours of curmudgeonly cuteness.