Odelecol Pretty good movie overall. First half was nothing special but it got better as it went along.

Robert Joyner The plot isn't so bad, but the pace of storytelling is too slow which makes people bored. Certain moments are so obvious and unnecessary for the main plot. I would've fast-forwarded those moments if it was an online streaming. The ending looks like implying a sequel, not sure if this movie will get one

Zlatica One of the worst ways to make a cult movie is to set out to make a cult movie.

Francene Odetta It's simply great fun, a winsome film and an occasionally over-the-top luxury fantasy that never flags.

Josh Friesen "We want to help people have a good time" state the central duo in A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence. The two are travelling salesmen Jonathan and Sam, our protagonists of sorts, if protagonists indeed exist in Roy Anderson's dreary and deeply melancholic series of vignettes. Their products: a laughing bag, a grotesque mask and vampire teeth. Their tragic career is fitting for a film that is best described as a Kierkegaardian tragedy with a wry smile. The world they live in is as stagnant and lifeless as the titular stuffed pigeon, the colour scheme a mix of gloomy greens and off whites. The sets are meticulously staged, with the camera always stagnant, a passive observer of the human condition. Most of the film is set in contemporary Sweden, a land of immense freedom, and due to that freedom, tremendous anxiety. Throughout the film we are shown characters attempting to connect to each other, trying to seek some comfort in the companionship of others, with little to no success. Rarely in cinema do we get such a singular depiction of human existence and while the absurdly black comedy might not work for most, for Existentialists with a funny bone this is not a film to miss.

maurice yacowar With its 39-episode fragmented structure and its absolutely unmoving camera, this Swedish film is a sweeping still life survey of modern daily life, like the Peter Breughel the Elder painting of hunters from which the title is drawn.The film is as ascetic in its monotones and monochromes as in its static camera. Writer/director Roy Andersson's title may have an additional reference: "En duva…" echoes the hilarious short 1968 parody that George Coe and Anthony Lover did of Ingmar Bergman's themes and aesthetics during his early prime. The new film's primary theme is the miseries of life, a hardy Bergman concern played more deadpan than anguished here. Andersson's spirit is playful and parodic. Several characters on the phone tell the people they're chatting with "I'm glad to hear everything is fine with you." But we see no joy on screen, except for the laughing diners in the restaurant that only emphasizes the unfortunate lonely army man's misery outside. Indeed the first fragment, the first of three Visits from Death, is a happy domestic scene in which, while the wife prepares dinner, humming in tune with the soundtrack, the husband tries to uncork a wine bottle and dies of a heart attack. The film eschews sentimentality. In the second episode three adults try to wrestle the treasure-trove handbag out of their dying mother's croaking grasp. Later, a maudlin song will depress salesman Jonathan with the idea that he will see his parents again in heaven. And they were nice to him.Jonathan and partner Sam are the two mainline figures. They try to "sell fun" but can't get buyers, can't get paid by the odd buyer they find, and therefore can't pay their suppliers. The film is rife with such deadpan deadbeats. The "fun" these men are offering are bathetic novelties: vampire teeth, a laughter bag and an Uncle One Tooth mask. In fact, bathos rules. Parodies abound, as in the several versions of Battle Hymn of the Republic. In the last episode, people waiting at a bus stop, a man stopping to refill his bike tires, another puzzled to learn that it's Wednesday, not Thursday, our daily lives are defined as trivial antitheses to heroism and meaning. As this man doesn't know where he is in the week, the film admits two historical intrusions, i.e., where are we in the larger movements of time? Both expand the characters' misery and emptiness to the larger state. Sweden is confronted with Jonathan's late-night philosophizing: "Is it right to use someone else just for your purpose?"In the first King Charles XII rides into a contemporary bar, leading his troops into valiant battle. Later he returns beaten, battered, broken by "the sly Russian" who apparently armed themselves without notice. The king has to wait for someone using the bar toilet. The second historical episode has a colonial troop herd chained and shackled black citizens, including women and children, into a huge copper drum, which as it rotates over a pool of burning oil kills them. This may be the dream Jonathan immediately reports, but it is still an allusion to a historic misdeed. The cylinder bears the name Boliden, the company whose sale of smelting to Chile in the 1980s led to charges that hundreds of citizens, including children, were poisoned by the waste site. As the film moves away from its first three death scenes, its overall movement might be defined as our denial of mortality. Those "fun" products are a bathetic summary of the diversions we seek in life to avoid recognizing our mortal limits. Hence the deaf man drinking on his stupor, the limping barmaid who sells the penniless a shot for a kiss, and all the sad characters Jonathan and Sam meet in their pathetic attempt to sell them fun. In that light the film may also reflect upon its own nature and structure and existence, that is, reflect upon the Swedish commercial film industry which — like any other nation's —provides empty anodynes to its sad citizens.

sharky_55 A man stares unblinking at a stuffed bird inside a display case, and wonders how it had gotten to be there. Meanwhile, a pigeon swoops in and out of the sky, and seems to regard the tableaux of human behaviour with a curiosity that Andersson shares. Why, they ask, are these people so busy, so concerned, so lost, so struck with everyday woes? The pigeon sits on the branch and worries about them. Will they ever find love? Will they ever find success? There is a line of dialogue that seems to be common in this city. "I'm happy to hear you are doing fine," they murmur, not face to face, but through telephones, miles apart. It is said without much conviction, so naturally they have to repeat the phrase. Extreme regard and disregard are contrasted throughout. Andersson once again returns to the same stylistic tendencies in the final part of the loose trilogy. The camera, unmoving, captures each scene in its drab in medium shot, close enough to identify emotion, but not close enough to touch them, to comfort them, like they are an exhibit in their own sense. In the distinct deep focus he layers each constructed set, so the canvas seems alive, and multiple stories are able to be interwoven with each other; a scientist in the other room conducts his own experiments and is just as oblivious to the test monkey's pain, a lonely lieutenant desperate tries to convince himself he has not been stood up while another breakup occurs within the window of the restaurant (later he once again stares into the same window, despaired that he does not have the same company), and as Charles XII makes his grand entrance and re-entrance into a local bar we see firstly his mighty battalion, and later the surviving injured, slowly trudging back. The story revolves loosely around two salesmen, Jonathan and Sam, who carry around briefcases because it gives off the pretense of travelling towards an important destination, but instead are mere joke products which have not been big sellers. They wander around, attempting to chase up loose ends while being harried themselves for payment, and suffer off-screen accidents that further drive them into the ground. And in the midst of this, a similar theme emerges; as one contemplates whether it is truly right to profit from the misfortune of others (and this is a tiny little grievance, seeing how ridiculous the mask looks, and it makes him all the better a person for it), Andersson's larger contemporary criticism seems to make itself clear. That is of the sense of isolation, the abandonment of communal care and concern; words spoken through a telephone are shallow, Jonathan is told to shut it because they all have to wake up in the morning, dancers turn an uncomfortable blind eye to the groping of one of the students. The principal example is of course the most controversial scene of them all, where a dream turns nightmare as black slaves are led by British soldiers into a huge metal spit-roast grill (and here I think Andersson has finally broken his rule, because it looks quite digital), and cooked alive - the scene lingers for longer than any would be comfortable with. It recalls the same attack on the corporation's sacrificial ceremony in Songs, this time aimed at a real life Swedish mining company Boliden, whose smelting residue led to poisonings. He juxtaposes these examples with the little joys, the instances of love and care, and they hold the same sort of lasting power. The pigeon witnesses these little vignettes too. A couple share a cigarette by the window sill, silent, yet deeply connected by companionship. Another couple lie on the beach with their dog, while a mother coos and gently rocks the pram of her baby. Girls blow bubbles with little else on their minds. And there are musical motifs that connect these brief moments. One is the same orchestration that accompanies scene transitions. The other is the recurring tune of Glory, Glory (Lay My Burden Down), that takes on several lyrical interpretations. In the most tender of scenes, an entire bar begins to sing in unison as the waiter leads the chorus and distributes drinks in a sort of communion like ceremony. They are penniless, but are much richer in their kisses and care. And later, soldiers once again accompany their king into the bar, concerned that he can no longer hold it in, and demand to know where the bathroom is. The mournful tune now sings of a mighty army led by Charles XII, and their march, but omits how he had to wait a little while for the bathroom. An elderly relative has asked for a purse for of valuables and riches, and the sons cannot figure out a way to prise it from her hands without her shrieking in protest. A man has a heart attack while trying to open a bottle of wine, while his wife absent-mindedly fiddles in the kitchen, unaware. Another man has dropped dead suddenly in the cafeteria of a cruise ship, and the onlookers awkwardly try to navigate the course of action towards his now unattended meal. Finally, an off-screen pigeon has attracted the attention of several civilians waiting for a bus. The pigeons sees all this. It does not attempt to understand it fully; life is about the up and downs, about waiting for buses and bathrooms, about exchanging pleasantries that you don't really mean. It's tragic, and funny, and everything in between.

adeegan I'm not sure why this film is given such a lenient treatment by the critics, in a word it's awful. Any episode of Monty Python supersedes it by miles. Are we being taken for a ride by the director and the critics? I think so. Boring, yes, but also lacking in any depth. No, I won't accept that there are any subtleties. It makes The Turin Horse look like an action film. Maybe it's a good thing that I didn't see the first two of the series. Perhaps I should read up on Swedish history first? Anyway I hope to see others criticise my comments to make me change my mind but for the moment this DVD will go to the bottom of my list.