Scandinavians are pretty good at making me laugh at the drab nothingness of my soulless life, huh.
The film-making here was incredibly meticulous, every piece of framing, every deadpan stare, every element of the colour palette, every snippet of muzak or whooosh of those street cleaners was there to hammer home this world's calm emptiness.
In fact, I think I might have found the general sense of emptiness overbearing had its absurdity not been genuinely funny and relatable. Like when Andreas is telling his boss that he misses children and looks up and the guy is smiling and halfway out the door, it's a sort of sad but true reflection of working with people, spending 7/8 hours a day with them, seeing more of them than the folk you love, but ultimately knowing deep down they don't give a damn about your troubles and you the same.
This might have been a film the Coens had made had they been born in Oslo and not Minnesota. I think their humour is more aggressive and more wrapped up in cinema's past but they have the same mastery of technique and their films have the same underlying sense that life is pretty inconsequential.
I'll stop before I talk myself into taking a bus into the wintry wilderness.