Unlocking Oslo: The Worst Person in the World Norwegian Context

Joachim Trier’s acclaimed film The Worst Person in the World resonates deeply with audiences worldwide, yet much of its richness is woven from threads specific to its Norwegian setting. An early, pivotal scene exemplifies this: protagonist Julie (Renate Reinsve) crashes a wedding, leading to an intense flirtation with Eivind (Herbert Nordrum). As they exchange vulnerabilities, Eivind admits, “I like the Barcode Project.” For non-Norwegian viewers, this reference might pass unnoticed, prompting the question: what cultural nuances are embedded within this celebrated film, particularly concerning its The Worst Person In The World Norwegian identity?

The film marks the conclusion of what director Joachim Trier designates his Oslo Trilogy, following Reprise (2006) and Oslo, August 31st (2011). Each film is saturated with details unique to Oslo life. Karsten Meinich, a Norwegian film editor, critic, and co-editor-in-chief of the film publication Montages, highlights this specificity, stating, “Reprise was the first Norwegian film that was about my life in Oslo.” Meinich offers insight into the Oslo-centric elements that enrich The Worst Person in the World, shedding light on Norway’s cultural landscape and its representation on screen.

Julie (Renate Reinsve) and Eivind (Herbert Nordrum) share an intimate moment in The Worst Person in the World, highlighting the film's Norwegian setting.

Understanding the Barcode Project

The perplexing reference to the “Barcode Project” requires stepping back into Norway’s recent history. Meinich explains the context: “Today Norway is an embarrassingly rich country, and it’s kind of against our nature… Norway is not an independent country [historically]. It’s ruled by either Denmark or Sweden… We got our independence in 1905 and then were invaded by the Nazis while Sweden remained neutral.” Post-war Norway was not wealthy, known more for its dramatic landscapes and existentialist artists like Ibsen and Munch. Significant film culture comparable to its neighbours was largely absent before WWII.

The discovery of oil in the late 1960s transformed Norway into the “Saudi Arabia of Northern Europe.” However, Meinich notes, “the spirit of Norwegian politics and people is not to spend that money. It’s just to sit on it and save it for future generations.” As wealth gradually increased through the late 20th century, Norwegian municipalities began investing in infrastructure previously unaffordable, such as a modern opera house comparable to those in Copenhagen or Sydney.

Oslo’s Transformation: From Village to City

Oslo itself underwent a significant transformation, growing from a few hundred thousand inhabitants to nearly a million. This growth faced constraints. “The northern edge of the city borders the wilderness,” Meinich describes. “It was decided many years ago to set up a forest border, which means that no building, no development of new housing, nothing can be built there… But if a city’s going to double its size, where is it going to go?”

The solution lay in redeveloping the harbor area, Bjørvika, near the central station. Previously an industrial and somewhat neglected zone, it became the designated site for the new, now famous, Oslo Opera House, completed in the 2000s. “Someone said, ‘this is where we put the opera house. And when we put the opera house there, everything else is going to come,'” Meinich recounts. The land around the opera house was sold off for development.

“The first thing they built is a string of buildings called the Barcode,” Meinich explains. These relatively tall (by Oslo standards) buildings resemble the vertical lines of a UPC barcode. “Different sizes of cubes, and kind of modern architecture, but also quite ugly,” he adds. Initial public perception was negative, especially following the expensive and aesthetically praised Opera House. “The reputation of Barcode was quite harsh in the beginning,” despite becoming prime real estate. Critically, it formed a visual barrier between the city centre and the sea. “But now that everything is finished,” Meinich observes, “a filmmaker like Joachim can come there and find the poetry of it.” The entire development vision for the area was indeed called “Barcode.”

Presenting this evolving part of Oslo on screen, as Trier does, helps integrate it into the city’s accepted identity. “Now, seeing The Barcode in movies like The Worst Person in the World, makes it organically interwoven in our accepted view of what Oslo is,” says Meinich.

Eivind’s comment about liking the Barcode Project carries social weight within the film’s narrative. Meinich points out that Eivind is portrayed as less educated than Julie. This is subtly reinforced later when he praises an essay Julie wrote, but mispronounces the word “formulate.” “He says it wrong, and that makes her angry,” Meinich notes. “She realizes he might not be the man… he reveals that he’s not able intellectually to discuss what she’s been writing… It’s an insult to her that he even picks up her work and thinks he can compliment her.” Eivind’s awkward admission about liking the Barcode Project can be seen as preemptively apologising for potentially lacking sophisticated taste. “To us,” Meinich emphasizes, “it’s such an important part of the richness of Trier’s Oslo portraits. That he’s able to effortlessly incorporate all these details… it’s not an accident, and when you know the city well, that enhances it.”

Julie looks conflicted while Eivind speaks, a scene revealing subtle Norwegian cultural nuances in The Worst Person in the World.

Film Culture and the Legacy of Video Nova

Another significant Oslo reference appears in a moving monologue delivered by Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie), Julie’s older boyfriend. He laments the loss of physical media and the culture surrounding it, specifically mentioning “the aisles at Video Nova Majorstua.” This reference resonated deeply with Meinich, who worked there.

“I started working there in high school,” Meinich shares. “It was part of a chain of video stores… that location was the first store… It was like a half-basement. You step down from the pavement, into a world of cinema.” Video Nova Majorstua became a cultural hub because of its extensive and curated collection, including imported VHS tapes unavailable elsewhere in Norway. “My family and I was living five minutes up the street… As kids, we were only able to rent a few films because it was quite strict with age limits.”

Meinich highlights Norway’s historically conservative censorship climate: “The Life Of Brian had been deemed illegal… In 1996, David Cronenberg’s Crash was censored. It wasn’t screened in Oslo.” This was partly due to the city-owned cinema monopoly that existed until the 2000s. “If you wanted to distribute something artistic, and you didn’t get into the Oslo theaters, the critics wouldn’t even review your film.”

Video Nova circumvented some of these limitations. “It was the source,” Meinich asserts. “If you can’t find it there, you can’t find it anywhere in Norway.” The store became a breeding ground for future filmmakers, critics, and industry professionals. Meinich himself got a job there with an application promising to one day make a film that would be rented from its shelves – a promise he later fulfilled.

Aksel’s line, “I can close my eyes and see the aisles at Video Nova Majorstua,” becomes profoundly meaningful in this context. “That whole monologue about what we are losing… the physical formats and the way we attach ourselves to art… connecting that to life and the fragility of our bodies, it was so moving,” Meinich reflects. “Knowing that reference, and knowing that video stores die… where are the movies going to be?”

Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie) reflects on the past, referencing Norwegian cultural touchstones like Video Nova in The Worst Person in the World.

Anders Danielsen Lie: Layers of Reference

The casting of Anders Danielsen Lie as Aksel adds further layers, particularly for Norwegian audiences. Meinich reveals that Lie consulted him briefly about the layout of Video Nova Majorstua for the film, though Meinich didn’t realize the significance at the time. Lie himself was a familiar face from the store’s shelves long before his roles in Trier’s films.

“He had a major role in a Norwegian film when he was a child,” Meinich explains. “It’s called Herman. He plays the title character and it’s very famous in Norway… He played a boy who loses his hair.” This adds resonance to the scenes where Aksel, battling cancer, has lost his hair. “That film is referenced in the scene when Aksel sits in the staircase at the end of The Worst Person in the World, and he’s lost his hair and wears a cap. It’s almost the same scene he played as a child in Herman.” Furthermore, Aksel’s line about an “old drunkard” who used to be outside the window references a character from Herman. “So it’s like a layered reference to Anders Danielsen Lie’s own role in a movie as a child in a Norwegian film in that part of the city.”

Aksel’s monologue also mentions other lost cultural landmarks: the record stores Pretty Price and Voices. While familiar to Oslo residents, Meinich notes the decline, stating, “In Oslo there’s one physical store for new music and film releases left,” alongside specialty vinyl and used record shops.

Oslo’s Geography in the Film

Beyond specific landmarks, Trier utilizes Oslo’s overall geography intentionally. “There’s this frequent use of parks in Trier’s movies,” Meinich observes. “Oslo is a city where you can walk everywhere, and he often uses the parks in Oslo as sort of transformative locations.” The city maintains a “small town within a big city” feel, easily navigable by foot or bicycle, often through its numerous parks. “His films are always geographically correct,” Meinich adds. “You won’t find him cutting from one place to a whole other place.” This commitment to geographical realism further grounds the films in their specific Oslo setting.

Conclusion: A Richer Understanding

Understanding the specific Norwegian cultural and geographical references embedded within The Worst Person in the World significantly deepens the viewing experience. From the socio-architectural commentary behind the Barcode Project to the nostalgic lament for institutions like Video Nova Majorstua, and the layered meta-references tied to actor Anders Danielsen Lie’s own history, these details are not mere set dressing. They form an integral part of the film’s identity and texture. Joachim Trier’s Oslo Trilogy, culminating in this film, serves as a powerful portrait of the city, capturing its transformations and its enduring character. Recognizing the The Worst Person In The World Norwegian context allows international audiences to appreciate the full artistry and cultural resonance of this remarkable film.