Steph’s review published on Letterboxd:
Oslo, August 31 shows us one day in the life of Anders (Anders Danielson Lie), who is nearing the end of his stay in an inpatient drug rehabilitation center. He is clean and sober, but clearly not yet recovering. He returns to Oslo, where he had lived all his life, for a job interview. He doesn't hold much hope for returning to his career as a journalist. Even his work associations had centered around substance use, and he lacks faith in his writing ability. The viewer can see that Anders is intelligent and insightful, with strong professional credentials, and that he has potentially loving, supportive people in his life. But in the moment, he is blind to those things. He holds little hope for his future, and it's virtually impossible to see outside the moment.
However, he makes the journey with plans to reconnect with his sister and with a close friend, Thomas (Hans Olav Brenner). Throughout the day, he encounters old friends and places, reminders of his past.
The conversations Anders has, particularly his talk with his old friend Thomas -- once a partying buddy and now married with children -- reveal a great deal. There is something real and raw about the scene in which Anders talks to Thomas about his life. And Thomas's efforts to help his friend see glimmers of hope are painful and will resonate with anyone who's ever tried to help a loved one on the brink of disaster.
But as is always the case in outstanding movies, the filmmaker conveys as much -- if not more -- in quiet moments. There is a wonderful scene, about halfway through the movie, in which Anders is sitting alone in a coffee shop. He is keenly aware of the people around him, absorbing snippets of conversation. He is surrounded by strangers chatting about their relationships and random details of quotidian life -- one young woman shares a list of hopes and plans for her future. In the midst of all this, Anders is silent and alone, imaginatively getting glimpses of people's lives. His facial expressions and body language are fairly subtle, yet -- aided by the brilliant cinematography in this scene -- they speak volumes.
This is not a movie that will appeal to a viewer looking for sheer entertainment. However it is an honest, compassionate film and an excellent study of despair, regret, and the struggle between fear and longing. It shows the ability of depression and addiction to narrow our range of vision, so we can't see outside our own misery, and the difficulty of facing past mistakes and breaking away from old scripts.
I highly recommend this film to viewers who enjoy character-driven psychological movies. I was thoroughly drawn in by the writing, acting, and directing, and this is probably one of the best portrayals of addiction I've seen so far.