Love

The ease and the seriousness with which each exchange builds to the suggestion of sex (or further relations) is often charming.

It’s the sort of talky European drama that, in its well-expressed thoughtfulness, leaves one feeling strangely refreshed. I’ll happily take two more.

“Love” moves slowly through its languid moments, set against the backdrop of Oslo and its architecture. There’s a loveliness to every scene, quiet urban beauty that leaves space for the audience’s contemplation.

The film's simplicity serves to highlight the rich complexity of human emotion.

Sadly, without insight into the intimacy of communion, many of the conversations Haugerud brings to the fore end up laying a bit too close to the didactic.

Honest, thoughtful, and daringly talky as it observes modern dating customs in the age of apps, it deserves further exposure beyond the festival circuit.

Haugerud evidently sees a gap in the way filmmakers have approached the tech-rewritten games of meeting and parting, and has executed his vision with little jargon and almost no footage of people looking at screens.

It imagines characters who are more plausible than the typical romantic drama. There is a sense of spontaneity, or maybe possibility, because the drama suggests true romantic pleasure cannot happen without someone surprising themselves first.

The concept of two gay men from different generations discussing their differences, particularly around AIDS, is a bit overdone, but “Love” pulls it off beautifully. This scene is the film’s heart.

Profound and genuinely heartfelt. Like Eric Rohmer and Ingmar Bergman, Haugerud knows how to find the Spectacle within the Truth.