“One of the year’s most insightful and thoughtful works.”

There is a freedom in sharing your story with a stranger. Whether it is a person seated next to you at a coffee shop, a fellow passenger on a bus trip or, in the case of Sebastian Brameshuber’s London, the rideshare driver taking you to the destination of your choice. Whether or not a conversation occurs depends on both the distance being travelled and whether the driver or passenger is willing to openly communicate with a person with whom you’re sharing a few moments of your life, beyond the bare minimum. This film follows Bobby, a mild-mannered older man who frequently makes the long trip from Vienna to Salzburg for reasons that are not immediately made clear. In order to help with the cost of gas Bobby picks up passengers, these strangers becoming his companions for a short time, engaging with him in a variety of deep and meaningful conversations that run the gamut of potential subjects. This ranges from delightful pleasantries about the weather to historical stories, political debates and even the occasional moment of existential pondering, all treated with the utmost respect by the reserved but friendly driver, who relishes getting to know his travel companions and whatever parts of their lives they are willing to share with him. However, soon it is revealed that there are more layers to Bobby and his various passengers, once they allow themselves to be entirely open with someone whom they’ll likely never see again, finding a peculiar kind of psychological liberty in the process. A poignant meditation on life, memory and loneliness, London is an existential odyssey about finding salvation on the open road, told with wit, precision and an abundance of soul.

As the woefully worn-out adage goes, it’s not always about the destination but rather the journey. It may be a cliché, but it remains extremely relevant, especially with a film like London, which is quite literally composed of a dozen different journeys undertaken by the protagonist and his various passengers. Brameshuber chooses to tell the story of a man who is evidently in the final chapter of his life – retired but restless, Bobby makes frequent journeys between two major cities, which he eventually reveals are to visit a friend who is recovering from a stroke. Along the way, he befriends people from all walks of life, and with each of them Bobby displays the same friendly, congenial manner, hoping to get to know these people and their stories. There is something unexpectedly powerful about opening up to a stranger, almost as if the knowledge that they’re only a temporary acquaintance makes you more likely to share your innermost desires, quandaries and questions, likely due to the realisation that you can be spared any meaningful judgement. The simple act of sharing your story with someone who is willing to listen, and perhaps offer their own insights or advice if they can, is a beautiful experience, albeit one that is becoming increasingly rare in a world defined by isolation.  Through forging these connections, which extend over generational, linguistic, and geographical boundaries, the protagonist begins to open up to himself, showing that he is also an aimless soul in transit, wandering a world that he doesn’t quite understand.

There is a concept known as “sonder”, which refers to the realisation that every person we encounter in our daily lives, even for just a fleeting moment, has their own rich, complex life, the vast majority of which we will never be able to witness. London is a film built from this concept, as the director pulls together a story about a group of individuals who are in continuous transit, finding each other by chance, and momentarily being given the reprieve to tell their story however they see fit. The protagonist intentionally sets out to puncture the awkward division between strangers, where silence is used as a kind of protection, and in the process introduces the opportunity to express themselves to someone sympathetic but entirely divorced from their personal lives. London is told in a series of episodic moments that consist of long conversations between two people who start as strangers, but form a genuine connection in the process simply through being able to tell their story, choosing what to share and what to keep to themselves. The film is intentionally slow, but there is value in allowing these connections to form naturally and with a meditative pace, since many of the most interesting details are contained within quiet, mundane moments. It is also one of the rare instances where repetition can be a powerful narrative and artistic tool, conveying layers of meaning in even the most straightforward of conversations. Emotionally, the film is quite subtle, managing to be beautifully compassionate without coming across as overly twee or patronising, which only enriches its themes.

London is a film that possesses a firm command of all of its emotions, never veering towards the heavy-handed, even when it is tackling intense subject matter. A large part of that comes from the performances, since the film’s impact emerges through interactions, requiring actors who can deliver compelling but subtle performances. Bobby Sommer (who many may remember from his wonderful performance in the similarly themed Museum Hours over a decade ago) makes a triumphant return to the medium, playing a character that bears his name, and perhaps some of his story. We get to know Bobby from the conversations he has with his fellow travelers – his own origins are left quite vague, but fragments scattered through the various discussions reveal a cohesive portrait of a complex and intriguing protagonist. As with Sommer, the film is populated by mostly non-professional actors playing characters that are named after them (with the exception of one or two, everyone else remains nameless until we see them credited at the end), creating a scenario where they were cast essentially to play themselves, with this film being the opportunity for each of them to tell their own story. A camera, a car and a couple of actors are more than enough to make London an incredible piece of cinema, but it’s how they interact that leaves quite an impression – in some cases we hear the voices of the passengers before we see their faces, or vice versa, watching them quietly listen as Bobby tells his story. It’s beautifully poetic filmmaking that places much of the power in the hands of the actors, who are tasked with simply exploring their own lives through these discussions. The gradual revelations shade in the nuances of these fascinating individuals, taking them from ambiguous strangers to representing the ordinary people all of us are likely to encounter as we move through life.

This all amounts to a truly moving film that manages to be hopeful without being navel-gazing or unrealistically optimistic. Society has become lonelier than ever before, and we are losing the art of forging meaningful connections. Brameshuber attempts to remedy this through London, a film that is profoundly moving, quietly heartwarming and frankly one of the most lyrical examinations of the human condition we’ve seen in years. This film proves that the simplest of works can often contain the most profound ideas, especially since it’s in the quieter moments that we meditate on trivial matters – towards the end of the film, Bobby actually waxes poetic about his appreciation for “the little things”, those parts of life that we don’t normally notice, but which play an integral role in forming our identities. There are many layers to this film, and repeat viewings will likely reveal more of the subtle details beneath the surface of the interactions. London is essentially an effort to examine the inner architecture of the soul, an opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of the human condition through observing people engaging in intimate, revealing conversations. Whether it is finding common ground on certain issues (covertly becoming an oral history of the two cities and the people who populate them), attempting to find some catharsis from the pain we carry within ourselves, or simply the effort to communicate even when we may not speak the same language, we’re all searching for meaning in a world that may not always make sense and where one simply has to keep moving. Simple but evocative, London is one of the year’s most insightful and thoughtful works, a film that says so much with very little, and deftly communicates compelling ideas about existence and its various peculiarities with which we’ll all be innately familiar.  

(c) Image copyright – PANAMA Films