Sentimental Value (Joachim Trier) Review

Sentimental Value (Joachim Trier) Review

this film reached into me. it didn’t scream or chase emotion … it arrived like memory returning when you least expect it? for me, sentimental value is joachim trier’s most human work so far. it isn’t only about a father and daughter … it’s about the lifelong weight of being seen and unseen, of growing up in the shadows of love that never found the right language. gustav borg, the aging filmmaker, wants to heal the past through art. his daughter nora, now a famous actress, wants to move on. both try to meet halfway, inside a home that remembers more than either of them can face.

the house becomes their shared mind. every wall, every corner holds echoes of arguments, laughter, and unfinished apologies. trier shoots it like a living organism: rooms breathe with sunlight, dust, and the ghosts of generations. every cut to black feels like stepping from one memory to another. when the camera returns, something has shifted… a voice, a look, a silence. through this rhythm, we learn that reconciliation isn’t about forgiveness alone; it’s about daring to stay present when the air grows heavy.

gustav’s idea to cast his daughter in a film about his own childhood is selfish and sincere at once. he wants to find truth through creation, not conversation. he has no script for love, so he hides behind scripts on paper. stellan skarsgård plays him with weary pride, the kind that covers pain too deep to name. renate reinsve matches him in every gesture, her face trembling between resistance and longing. when they share a table, every pause holds decades. it’s excruciating, yet tender… the kind of emotional exposure that reminds us how art can reopen wounds only to show where healing might start.

there’s a scene before a theater premiere where nora demands her lover to either hit her or kiss her, desperate for something real before facing an audience. it’s shocking in its honesty, not for violence, but for how human it feels: she’s terrified of emptiness. this moment mirrors her relationship with her father… wanting connection even if it hurts. trier understands this paradox: sometimes we break things only to feel that they still matter.

beneath all the filmmaking layers lies something universal: every family becomes its own unfinished movie. parents project their dreams onto children; children rewrite the script trying to survive those expectations. sentimental value shows how both sides keep acting long after the camera should’ve stopped. and yet, there’s grace in that persistence. we keep trying to communicate through art, through jokes, through shared silence. we keep returning to the same house, hoping this time the door will open without fear.

technically, the film is flawless. the editing breathes like a heartbeat… sharp when memories clash, slow when love tries to return. the score flows through strings that feel like the sound of forgiveness forming. colors shift between the cold gray of the present and the warm tones of remembrance. trier doesn’t need spectacle; he lets emotion design the frame. this precision makes the story both cinematic and intimate. it invites us to see our own homes as timelines of joy and regret intertwined.

when the film ends, there’s no grand answer. only a feeling: that love, even when broken, still leaves light on the walls. it made me think of my own family… the way we keep some things unsaid not out of coldness, but because we’re still learning how to speak them. sentimental value is a mirror that doesn’t accuse; it reflects. it hurts in the same way growing does: slowly, deeply, truthfully. by the time the last cut to black arrives, you realize you’ve been watching not a story, its actually a process of remembering how to love.