A muddled debut and a school conflict

   Lineage doesn't necessarily matter when it comes to filmmaking, but it's difficult to begin a review of Armand, a stylistically muddled Norwegian thriller from director Halfdan Ullmann Tondel, without mentioning Ullmann Tondel's grandparents, director Ingmar Bergman and actress Liv Ullmann. 

   Safe to say Tondel doesn't seem intimidated by his family's achievements. Mixing straightforward storytelling with surreal touches, Tondel latches onto a subject that's rich with possibility, a clash between parents at a grade school where six-year-old Armand (never seen) has been accused by Jon, another unseen student, of bullying and sexual abuse. 

   Wisely, Tondel focuses on parents not children. The school's publicity-shy principal (Oystein Roger) insists that Armand's mother (Renate Reinsve) meet with Jon's parents (Ellen Dorrit Petersen and Endre Hellestveit). Reasonable adult behavior is supposed to follow. Sure.

   Sounds intriguing, but the movie plays as if Tondel hadn't sorted through the screenplay's thickening web of issues and subtext; he veers away from the story's psychological and social dynamics to  perplexing effect, even including a couple of dance numbers.

    It may not ignite, but Tondel has the necessary kindling to stoke plenty of dramatic fire. 

   An actress by trade, Elizabeth has had a prior relationship with Jon's parents. Turns out Jon's mother was the sister of Elizabeth's late husband, who -- we're told  -- committed suicide.

   Perhaps to add satirical garnish, Tondel also deals with the school's timidity. The principal puts a novice teacher (Thea Lambrechts Vaulen) in charge of the pivotal meeting between parents. She's supposed to smooth things over.

   Eventually, the principal and another administrator (Vera Veljovic-Jovanovic) join the conference, which gets nowhere and is disrupted by the administrator's frequent nosebleeds, a bizarre intrusion that, like much else about the movie, leaves you wondering what Tondel had in mind. 

   It's difficult to fault Tondel for being too cautious; he includes a surprising scene in which Elizabeth goes on an uncontrolled and extended laughing jag. Perhaps she's nervous or maybe she glimpses an inherent absurdity in the idea of a six-year-old boy being capable of sexual abuse. 

   Whatever's happening, Reinsve (The Worst Person in the World and A Different Man) bravely goes along for the ride.

   I lost hope when, late in the picture, Elizabeth and the school's custodian begin to dance. The best I can say about Tondel's effort is that it's interesting watching him try to hit all manner of notes. The resultant head-scratcher of a movie makes you hope Tondel eventually hits his stride.

   

She has powers she can't control

There are few new stories, only new ways to tell them. That may be important to remember as you watch Norwegian director Joachim Trier's Thelma, a coming-of-age tale in which Thelma, a first-year college student played by Eili Harboe, learns about the power of sexual desire. Thelma's separation from her parents (Henrik Rafaelsen and Ellen Dorrit Petersen) creates the situation in which her emerging sexuality bumps against the walls of repression established by her religious mother and father. Trier's chilly style fills the screen with images that rattle Thelma and us along with her. Some of these images occur during the seizures Thelma begins to have. Doctors can't pinpoint any cause for Thelma's distress, which seems to be exacerbated by her burgeoning friendship and sexual attraction to another coed (Kaya Wilkins). Eerie and full of disturbing sights, Trier's movie proves engaging enough to squelch criticisms that might arise from a plot that many have compared, with some justification, to that of Carrie. Whatever you make of Thelma, it's difficult to ignore Trier's ability to unsettle an audience. Besides, Harboe ably suggests a woman on the precipice of terrifying discoveries. Together, Trier and Harboe create a state of sustained unease that penetrates nearly every frame of the movie, and Thelma becomes a movie that's not so much about telling a story as about creating a world that matches Thelma's interior life. Thelma grapples with a mysterious force that she hardly comprehends but must learn to accommodate. Is this force a psychological response to religious repression? Is it something real or something imagined? Can Thelma really make things happen in the world external to herself? Trier wisely leaves us looking for answers, giving Thelma a feeling of tantalizing ambiguity.