hurrengoa
lukas moodysson, that swedish boy... koldo almandoz   I ran into the Swedish director more than once and in varying situations at the latest edition of the Xixon Film Festival. Coincidence brought us together more than once at official screenings, film theatres and on the beach. I, of course, went at it as a voyeur would. I anthropologically spied on the enfant terrible of contemporary cinema from behind the hidden safety of my sunglasses. The First Meeting
At the festivals opening ceremony, at one end of the stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. The hood of his red sweater almost hides his face from view. He’s jiggling around the corner of the stage in the Jovellanos Theatre like the way you’d see boxers warming up in the corridor as they make their way down to fight. Once the opening ceremony had finished, he sat in the seat next to me for the whole screening. He sat there with his hood up, looking bored, waiting for the twelfth round.

The Second Meeting
On Begoña Street. Twelve midday. Wrapped up in a big green Parka, he looked at his skating sneakers as he walked along. The great Lukas Moodysson, adored by film fans and critics alike, playing at not walking on the cracks in the pavement.

The Third Meeting
The press conference. A journalist asks him why Bergman, Kaurismaki, Haneke and other Nordic directors of such ilk have such a cold outlook on the world.
“But Haneke is Austrisan, isn’t he?” answers Moodysson.
“Well, Northern European directors then?” Replies the journalist.
“I have no intention of explaining the difference between Sweden, Finland and Austria...”
There’s always one wise-guy journalist at these press conferences. I can’t help thinking that these situations happen over and over again. Some of the things Moodysson said during the press conference:
“There are very few films that really know how to reflect what it is to be alive”; “Bergman and I are very different. He kept the child in him alive whereas I still carry around the teenager in me”; “Sweden is not an idyllic country. We are all a little bit psychopathic. Everything seems perfect but that’s just show. We know that if we are rich it’s because we have robbed the poor and the realisation of this leads us to bury our feelings. In Western countries there are two options only: be poor or a psychopath.”

The last question.
“Why is your last film called “A hole in My Heart”?
“Because the film is a hole in my heart.”

The Fourth Meeting
On the shore. Walking. Looking at his skate sneakers again. It’s as if he was thinking up a new story with each step. He’d stop for a moment, and gaze at the waves. We crossed paths but I tried not to look. By then he must have thought I was following him...

Films
Since Ingmar Bergman said that the little from contemporary cinema he was interested in was the work of Moodysson, the 1969-born Lukas has carried that weight around on his back.
After the short film “Talk”, he filmed the fascinating “Fucking Amal”. Afterwards, he made “The New Country” and “Together”. He made the hard-hitting “Terrorister” in 2001. It was banned and cannot be taken out of the country. Change came with “Lilya 4-ever” in 2002. The characters in his films always had a way out until then. Now they lose everything. A total lack of hope and digging deeper into the black hole is the meat and potatoes of his latest film, “A hole in my heart”. This violent movie will leave no-one untouched.