After an evening of partying hard, curator of an art museum in Stockholm, Christian (Claes Bang), has a fling with an American reporter, Anne (Elisabeth Moss). As he enters her apartment, he is visibly bewildered to find an ape living there. But no explanation is provided about the animal’s presence. On one hand it could be inferred that the beast is Anne’s pet, simply providing an element of humour to The Square, but on the other, it could be viewed as an image in alignment with filmmaker Ruben Östlund’s intention of exploring the concept of social contract – the possible juxtaposition of casual sex with the imagery of an “uncivilised” creature.
It’s rather tricky to sieve interpretation from intention in Östlund’s film. When you ask yourself, “What is the filmmaker trying to say?”, there isn’t a single answer. The Square is a melting pot of ideas. There’s hypocrisy and decadence of the art world, capitalistic bourgeoisdom, poverty, immigration and virality on social media. Östlund could be accused of squeezing in too many concepts, but the interdependence of ideas can be best understood when you don’t depend on the narrative to make the ideas cohesive.
- Director: Ruben Östlund
- Cast: Claes Bang, Elisabeth Moss, Dominic West, Terry Notary
- Story line: A curator battles with a series of meltdowns before the launch of a new exhibition
On the surface, the Swedish filmappears to be a brutally blunt satire. But after watching the film for a second time, it’s the idea of social contract that emerges most strongly in the film. Östlund structures The Square in a manner where he captures little moments of anarchy, like a heckler with Tourette syndrome disrupting a talk, and ultimately leads up to a finale of sorts with actor Terry Notary as a performance artist at a museum gala.
“If you show fear, the animal will sense it,” the tuxedo-clad audience is warned at the gala. A bare-chested Notary, as a primate, enters the room and sniffs around. What is assumed to be performance art quickly becomes absurdly real – Notary yanks a girl off her chair by pulling her hair. The presumed limits of art are broken. The “civilised” audience in the room collectively attack the performer, making a commentary on the animistic repression of a modern society.
At a time when filmmakers are increasingly meditating over the past, Östlund boldly makes a commentary on the present human behaviour. When the museum’s goofy publicity team creates an intentionally controversial video to promote an upcoming exhibition, Christian resigns. A reporter at a press conference questions Christian’s decision, arguing that an art institute must be at liberty to push boundaries, throwing open the question: is radicalism only meant for the high arts and not viral videos, which are more accessible and democratic?
The Square engages with these ideas using form which in itself is layered with interpretation. For instance, Östlund lets the camera linger in spaces away from the action and sound, obfuscating the entire truth of the moment. There are times when he cleverly cuts back to an art installation – primarily “The Square” – to extend the message of the artwork onto the scene that precedes it.
It’s a rare opportunity to witness a Palme d'Or winner (2017) get a public release in India, but in the bargain, the audience has to endure the laboured axe of the censor board falling arbitrarily over integral portions of the film. The dramatic peak of a few scenes, which justify its very existence, are brutally edited out, rendering them ineffective in comparison to the first time I saw them at a film festival.
Despite the censorship, The Square manages to emerge as a rewarding experience. It’s quite enriching when an artist, in this case Östlund, pushes the boundaries of cinema to unfamiliarise, and even destroy, known concepts, creating a sense of heightened awareness towards them. Be it towards accepted norms of human behaviour, poverty in a posh Scandinavian city or politics of capitalism, it all ultimately forms the bedrock of strong artistic discourse.
