“Women aren’t cool,” their buddy Lars (Christian Rubeck) pronounces at a occasion, as if ladies are an adjunct. “They are often fairly or cute and with some critical weight-reduction plan, even attractive. They are often good – dumb, however good.” And if a lady introduces a man to new music or literature? “She bought it from her ex, (or) her father.” Girls are vapid, uninspired addendums to distinctive males striving for innovation – males that learn Nietzsche, hearken to The Smiths and carry out in a punk band.
Blatant sexism is just one ingredient of an unabashed superiority advanced. From the outset, the pair try to create “cult classics”. They reject something and all the things widespread in favour of the recondite and esoteric. Their lodestar is fictional writer Sten Egil Dahl, a fringe determine who printed his first novel at age 20 earlier than disappearing from public life. Trier said in a 2008 interview that if Phillip and Erik had been musicians, Dahl would get replaced by Morissey – the more and more bigoted frontman of The Smiths who prides himself on being anti-establishment (to the purpose of racism and xenophobia).
But it’s Dahl who exposes Phillip and Erik’s phony ‘mental’ personas. The pair repeatedly act, and say, they’re Dahl’s “solely two followers”, but when the elusive writer arrives at an trade occasion, Erik is astounded to search out that fellow debut novelist Mathis Wergeland (Thorbjørn Harr, in a period-accurate tiny scarf) – who they deem a disgustingly mainstream “superficial imbecile” – can be a “huge fan” of Dahl’s.
The identical fraudulence governs their relationships with ladies. Whereas Phillip and Erik fortunately expound their misogynism in public, in non-public they’re sentimental hypocrites. “Didn’t you say in case your ebook bought printed you’d break up with Lilian?” Phillip asks Erik, who can not bear to finish his three-year relationship. As a substitute, it’s Lilian (Silje Hagen) that unceremoniously dumps Erik, branding him “a rattling cliché.” Erik responds sensibly by fleeing Oslo fully, whereas Phillip’s destiny is significantly worse. His obsessive romance with Kari (Viktoria Winge) – whom he wines and dines with a journey to Paris – ends with him again within the psychiatric hospital.
The place its antecedents, like Mike Nichols’ The Graduate (1967) or Peter Weir’s Useless Poets Society (1989), are aligned of their depiction of younger males combating to establish their true ardour and goal, Reprise stays prophetic in its cynical disregard for authenticity. Phillip and Erik depend on arbitrarily devised constructs – the glamorisation of psychological well being circumstances, sexism and being area of interest – rather than expertise or fact. They’ll succeed by sheer drive of will – a dedication they now share with the 2.6 million self-publishing authors, self-help tradition and even Kim Kardashian.
The pair’s manifesto doesn’t cease their literary journey (and their friendship) ending abruptly. “This isn’t your finest work,” Erik tells Phillip, shocked his psychosis has not bestowed him with nice literary talent. In retaliation – and maybe the primary shred of honesty between them – Phillip admits “all I’ve ever achieved is recycle Sten Egil Dahl,” earlier than insinuating Erik has too. Ending with the pair estranged, Reprise stays a cautionary reminder that not all inventive endeavour ends with success and happiness.
So was it price it for the hapless duo? Just one exterior perspective on Phillip and Erik is given in Reprise past Lilian’s evaluation of Erik. Onlookers at a punk live performance dismiss them as “just a few spoiled wealthy youngsters from the West aspect,” including witheringly, “I heard one in every of them wrote this bizarre ebook.”