Cast: Helena Bergstrom, Rikard Wolff, Sven Wollter, Viveka Seldahl, Reine Brynolfsson
Director: Colin Nutley
Producer: Lars Jonsson
Screenplay: Susan Falck
Cinematography: Jens Fischer
Music: Bjorn Isfalt
U.S. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics
In Swedish with English subtitles
As you drive around the United States, you can immediately identify what type of community you're riding through by the houses you see and the people outside of them. Conformity is a staple of society, and those who refuse to fit in almost inevitably become the targets for unreasonable persecution. Obviously, this isn't the case in just one country. As the current worldwide news headlines point out, it's a universal truth, and Colin Nutley's House of Angels provides another viewpoint of the price of conforming, or refusing to do so.
House of Angels begins in a small farming community somewhere in Sweden, where a local citizen is about to meet his death in an automobile accident. At his funeral, his sole surviving relative arrives -- a long-lost granddaughter named Fanny (Helena Bergstrom). She is accompanied by a gay companion, Zac (Rikard Wolff), who's the perfect picture of a biker: leather jacket, sunglasses, and five o'clock shadow. The pair are from Berlin, and have big city customs that don't fit in the small town setting, so when they move into the dead man's house, the residents of the village become uneasy. The women are afraid that Fanny will steal away their menfolk, and the men are uncertain what to make of their new neighbor. Only one person has a clear goal. Axel (Sven Wollter), the local bigshot, wants Fanny out so he can buy up her land.
Things aren't always what they seem -- a point that House of Angels is adept at illustrating. Fanny and Zac look like the wild, drug-addicted deviants that the townspeople believe them to be, but few are willing to get to know the pair well enough to test their preconceived convictions. Once the label is affixed, nothing Fanny can do will remove it. Eventually, she decides to give people what they expect, but this leads to her own disillusionment.
The small town/big city conflict is played out with conformity as the principal weapon. Too many of the villagers don't want something new or different in their midst, and so are threatened by what Fanny and Zac represent. Rather than concede the potential value in diversity, they attempt to squash it. The local vicar's pleas for understanding fall on deaf ears as a group of women led by Axel's wife, Rut (Viveka Seldahl), confront Fanny and tell her plainly that she isn't wanted. Before her grandfather's death, Fanny hadn't been to the village. Indeed, she never met the man who willed her his estate. Her mother died when she was eleven, and she never knew her father's identity. By coming to the place where her mother became pregnant, Fanny is given the opportunity to explore her roots. Finding her father isn't of paramount importance, since she already recognizes what the audience comes to learn: it's who you are, not who your parents were, that makes the difference.
Given the nature of the subject matter, clumsy handling could easily have turned every character into a caricature. There's the gay biker, the shrewish housewife, the aging bachelors, the plotting rich man, and the randy young carpenter. Credit director Colin Nutley for rigorously avoiding the stereotypical pitfalls by populating his film with carefully-constructed individuals.
House of Angels is an excellent example of how lighthearted film can be used to probe deeper, more intense issues without becoming preachy or overbearing. There's a priest in this film, but the movie isn't given to sermonizing. The picture's sense of fun rarely flags, nor does the inner core of drama that underlies each scene. House of Angels has a lot to say, and the best thing is that the audience enjoys every word that's spoken.
© 1993 James Berardinelli