A person dying while opening a bottle of wine. And now for something completely different.

But Roy Andersson's movies are like that. You better brace yourself for a sequence of images, scenes and characters that may or may not fit together but are guaranteed to surprise, amuse and sometimes shock you.

It's better not to get specific with the plot. Mostly because there hardly IS one. But also because it unfolds chaotically, surreally, and the pleasure lies in its unfolding before your eyes. Snippets, shots, vignettes, events - uncensored, unorganized, like life itself.

The themes are down-to-earth. The scenes are fantastical. What would you call this: realist surrealism? supernatural naturalism? We are led from Swedish housing complexes to depressing industrial areas, faced with the doom and misery of urban Scandinavia.

Humanity is explored through its senseless capacity for inflicting boredom and suffering on itself and on others. No one is spared. This is pure existentialism on cinema - but with the hope of transcendence.

The audience reactions vary from bemused silence to Benny Hill laughter. You take out of this film what you are ready to give in.

Some may find the plodding pace tiring, the characters soulless and the gray urban settings drab and lifeless. But that is sort of the point.

As a sort of midpoint between Buñuel and Loach, Andersson's style is not to everyone's taste, and not without its faults. Just be ready to embrace, and enjoy, the misery of existence. Perhaps you'll be delighted, like I was, to find humour and absurdity in suffering.

Please, listen: if you are looking for a "classic" story you should choose something else. A story is here, indeed, but it's buried under a series of episodes and different POVs – it feels like we are having the chance to observe the behavior of the inhabitants of a parallel dimension from the fixed cameras of an internal surveillance video system (a very special one, equally able to look in the present, in the past and in the dreams of the strange characters displayed).

What we get, in the movie, it's a composite drawing of the social, private, and inner lives of those characters. And it's strange, of course: sometimes you can hardly tell the difference between the dream and the reality and the reverie – as those surveillance cameras never flinch and inch, even in front of the most strange happenings. But, even if the cameras never moves, the images we are shown constantly jump the tone of the story from drama, to comedy, to horror, to nonsense, with a quickness that is uncommon for the genre-related, petrified narrative codes we are used to.

The main thing I could understand, in the end, is that the problem of the people living in this world is their inability to care about each other's feelings. Some of them eventually even understand this, and with regret, because they realize that if you are not able to love your close ones then you will hardly be able to love yourself. Still, all of them look completely unable to go over this self-imposed limit: so it happens that the stuffed pigeon at the begin of the movie seems by far to be the most alive of the characters featured – not to mention the happiest one.

This Scandinavian movie which takes place in an unnamed Swedish town is about bringing joy and laughter to people when there isn't really anything to laugh about. Jonathan (Holger Andersson) and Sam (Nils Westblom) are two joke article salesman, who have only three products: vampire teeth, a canned laughter sack and a frightening rubber mask which they try to sell to resellers. However, the duo is not successful in what they do and so are their – not so funny – products and their uncreative and repetitive sales talk. As they stumble into financial trouble their friendship and business project is about to collapse.

This loose and rather sad story is patched with more absurd incidences. A longer scene takes place in a bar when the young Swedish King Charles XII (1682 - 1718) rides in, as he guides the army to the battle against Russia. Charles asks the handsome barman to come with him to the war. Later, when the army comes home and the war is lost, Charles again visits the bar because he has to go to the toilet. These scenes are not meant to be taken literally but rather embraced as pure images decorated with strange and morbid humor. The world which director Roy Andersson paints for the viewer is drab. There are no colorful things: walls are ocher, bars are gray, the furniture is simple wooden dark brown, and even the faces of the protagonists are white. Nevertheless, the dry jokes, the black humor and the absurdity make the movie fascinating and funny, though a guilty pleasure. Is it really OK to have a laugh or – even worse! – to sell jokes in a world that is so odd, so gray, so dark and sad?

There are two scenes that may have caused uproar but I think not many people made it that far since these scene appear rather late in the film. I won't give it away; you have to find out for yourself. The things that drive common movie goers away are the incredible slow pace of the movie (think of REPULSION (1965)) and the lack of a cohesive storyline. Art seekers on the other side will find an interesting and subtle movie with strange humor that is rarely found.

The Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence.

It would be inappropriate to talk about this film's genre.  This is not a comedy,  not a drama and not even a dramedy. It's just a pigeon's reflection on existence. As I came out of the cinema I didn't even know if I liked it or not. But let me tell you something: it's not about that! I woke up the next day with an array of images and tunes in my head.  The meaning of the film seeps through the layers of perception and leaves you with an undefined aftertaste.

The camera captures little nothings that upset the characters. The humour emerges from the contrast between the pettiness of their situation and the tragic effect it has on them. A flamenco teacher as her student's unrequited lover, two sales men that never sell anything etc. are just a few examples. On the other side, when real tragedy such as death occurs, people behave like it's just another banal event. The only thread that connects the film is the story of the two salesmen. This duo represents what nowadays we call losers. Their dullness counterpoint the incredible scenarios they end up in. Their universe is anachronistic and at times delightfully surreal. In this mad world it seems like people have strong feelings only at war time. Be it romantic passion, patriotic pathos or grief.

But what about the pigeon? What is she/ he thinking? I believe that the pigeon is a poet. The pigeon sees the things that are outside history. He sees beauty in kids making bubbles and lovers sharing a cigarette. These scenes pop up on the screen like epiphanies and are infused with visual poetry.

There must be a meaning in all this apparent nonsense. There seem to be an answer to Jonathan's malaise(one of the two salesmen). His vision of human sacrifice for the pleasure of others makes him question his existence. He is a tragic hero being shut down by the guy who keeps on telling him that he needs to work in the morning.

I didn't like the film at first. But it gets to you like a good Negroni. It's bitterness flourishes notes of unexpected sweetness.

Some film makers try to make their films as realistic as possible (the Dardenne brothers, Mike Leigh), and some try to get as far away from reality as they can by creating their own cinematographic universe (Wes Anderson, Jean-Pierre Jeunet). Roy Andersson definitely belongs to the latter category.

The world Andersson shows in his film, is grey, slow, unexciting, and old-fashioned. It reminded me of how eastern Europe must have looked during the communist era. No bright colours, no joy, no laughter, no hope, no ambitions. The interiors are drab, the people dreary. This self-created world is where the cinematographic equivalent of a series of short stories take place. Some are bizarre, most are melancholic, a few are incomprehensible, others meaningless or absurd. But they all share this common characteristic: they are taking place in Andersson's universe.

Actually, that universe is his studio, where he has built all of the sets with incredibly great attention to details, colours, clothing, lighting and lay-out. You can see fascinating images and footage of the production process on Andersson's web site. The sets are the real stars of the film. Even so much so, that maybe the stills of the film (also on the web site), with their Edward Hopper-like melancholy, are better than the film itself.

As fascinating as they are, I don't think the fragments work well as a feature film. They could have been very effective, say, as an element of a daily satirical television programme. But I think watching them all after each other, made into one 100 minute film, is not the best way to appreciate them.

This, a film about death; its stalking the unready, catching its survivors off guard, delivering problems of succession, needs to be viewed metaphorically. It plays out at a snail's pace and snares you just as death snares its victims. At first, we see the peaceful dove, AKA pigeon, protected by a glass bubble from the attacking eagle (örn) and get a sense of the portents to come. This comes to pass in a most inventive yet phlegmatic study of collective sorrow and fear of loss. Even if you know very little Swedish history, you cannot fail to recognise that the seemingly modern tale of two unsuccessful and troubled travelling salesmen is a metaphor for something else. Poor Jonathan wants never to meet his parents in heaven and is traumatised by visions of unspeakable horror. It is not just lost innocence. We get to see the dreams, the re-enactments of the glory days and the devastating defeat that lives on in the collective memory. Maybe he is a cry-baby. Maybe he has a true 'memory' of the extent of his, and his nation's loss. Quite magical but not your average cinema goer's fare.

Roy Andersson sits on a branch and looks at us: this is how we can summarize the film in one sentence. The movie is amusing, a sublime collection of "paintings" where the director cleverly moves from common situations (a mother enjoying his baby in a park) to the most absurd ones (King Charles XII having a mineral water in a bar before a battle). The viewer shall not struggle to find a standard, linear plot but, through putting together, one by one, all these paintings, she/he will have a reliable picture of human beings. Death, friendship, money, exploitation of people and animals: you find them all in Andersson's pigeon. Characters are mainly old, corpulent, pale, slow-moving but depicted in magnificent way and extremely real. The two salespeople involved in the entertainment business stand out: seeking debtors while not being themselves able to fulfill their obligations, they eventually realize that their friendship is the thing that really matters. Songs also play an important role in the movie (Lilla vackra Anna, above all) and they will stick in audience's head for a while after the viewing. At the end of his trilogy on human being, we can in fact say that the director has a positive message for us: Wednesday will come again and Roy Andersson is happy to see that we are doing fine.

Pigeon is made in the same style as You, the Living. Again we have plenty of short scenes, shot from one angle, with no cuts. Filled with absurdity, no actual plot, various way of interpretation. Too deep or too obvious, Andersson bounces between two extremes. The characters and the scenes are overdrawn. Everything happens in one, slow pace. Silence is boring and dulling the vigilance. In comparison, You, the Living seemed more... lively.

If Andersson shows Swedish society, I felt the criticism towards it in one scene, mocking it in the second and a direct reference to it in the third. The critique is present in a scene with elderly elegant Swedes observing the cruelty, done by non-Sweden. For me this is a reflection on Swedish neutrality in the 20th century. Mocking the Swedish society appears in the last scene. Bunch of people is waiting at the bus stop and one of the men starts to ask if today it's really Wednesday, cause for him it felt like Thursday. The group assures him that yes indeed, it's Wednesday. Additionally, the other man explains, that we all have to agree that it's Wednesday, otherwise there's gonna be chaos. Of course the first man did not imply that we wished it's another day of the week or that he is still gonna pretend it's not Wednesday. It did not hinder the other man to make sure that everything is clear - even if you feel like something else, you have to agree with everyone else in order to keep peace and organization. It might be exaggerated reference to Jantelagen (no one is special, no one should act like they are superior to one another). It is established that it's Wednesday, everyone has to adjust.

And then it's my favourite scene with Charles XII. He, as a Swedish king, should be a clear indicator that Andersson tells something about Sweden. Okay, we have a king with absolute power, everyone serves him even if he has the most ridiculous demands. But... this could be any monarch, right? So for me by using him, the director was more about praising the modernization, understood both as moving from kingdoms to democracy and as equalization of the societies. Choosing Charles XII could simply just give Andersson space to mock king's homosexual needs, which was directly shown. Despite different possible interpretations, I admire Andersson for the technical management of this scene. It's the longest one in the movie and the most complicated. So many elements could go wrong and in the end there is this final version with no cut. Standing ovation.

What if we look at Pigeon not as a portrait of Swedish life, but a life itself? All the feelings are phlegmatic. Even love, even anger, even laughter. Is the life so unfair or do we make it this way ourselves? I think that Swedish societ" is just a frame. Andersson is using some obvious cliches and stereotypes (which still can be true!) about his motherland in order to explain something more, something common to all human beings. Or I'm just trying to find deeper meaning which really isn't there. If so, this is just another proof of this director's strength - his movies can be seen through so many shades of interpretation.

This is my very first review here. I was so impressed that I was forced to register here and tell you all why nobody should miss the masterpiece.

This film pretty much summarizes how it feels to live in the world where 99% of people you deal with are imbeciles. In other words, it gives an accurate description of the state of the world right now. When you think carefully, you understand there is not that much difference between Apple Google whatchamacallit CEOs and those two guys of the film who work in the "entertainment business" and help people to have some good time. You look around and you see the bleakness of the film isn't an overstatement. It actually mirrors our reality in some most perfect manner. No one cares anymore. Nobody's listening anymore. We're tired, exhausted and uninspired. Some guys still make money and have some good laughs - but what's the point making any big fuss about it while the party's pretty much over and the world is doomed to be blown up sooner or later?! The last scenes are brilliant metaphorical statements of the western welfare societies and wrap up this instant classic fantastically.

Check this out and you'll see what I'm talking about, thanks.

well, you see this is a conflict, conflict about being an ordinary man. and after all being an ordinary man takes you there in which all other people are dealing with just "being". Roy Andersson took care of that approach and made a pretty remarkable movie about "being". Ordinary men try to figure things out, ordinary men try to make friends, earn money, make some jokes, and live on. Joyful moments, sad moments, some bad news and some good news, some misunderstandings and so forth. Actually, the characters show the great determination to continue, a-must-see movie when you are having some existential trouble and something to hold on. Ordinary men have a great solution. Because they don't need to be happy all the time, they don't need to be sad all the time. A smooth way to mix the emotions and keep the balance.

If Ingmar Bergman had directed the Monty Python crew through a script by August Strindberg and story boards by Edvard Munch, this is the film that might have resulted. Billed as a comedy, it produces the occasional chuckle, but humorous it isn't. A surreal Nordic allegory, as suggested by other reviewers, it might possibly be, but one would have to sit through it several times to extract that degree of narrative intent. I think I wouldn't have the patience. One can imagine that Swedes would find it much more meaningful, and funnier, than Americans for possessing the cultural context upon which the film clearly depends. There are a lot of subtleties of history, social mores, and such that get lost in translation.

One has to hope that the eponymous pigeon's existence is less dreary than the lives of the film's characters, or the writer's vision of the world. The DP and Art Director seem to have been a gleefully willing accomplices in the whole thing, however. The staging and photography are at times positively brilliant.

Swedish surrealist dark humor, innovative but sluggish. After many stupid deaths, two unfunny sellers of joke articles meet Buñuel and Monty Python throw windows and inside musical pubs in the lands of king Karl XII. Yes, nonsense. More visual than substance. More weirdness than laughs.

A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence is strictly Roy Andersson. And should you not know what that means, it's better you approach it at your own curiosity of revelation. This movie is the final part in a spiritual trilogy of movies about being human, as so clarified by Roy Andersson himself in the movie's opening credits.

It's a movie that is as expected, all over the place; thematically, periodically and even emotionally. It's a bizarre final look into the human condition through the eyes of Roy Andersson; this time however, with a watered down lens that ends up being a lot more individualistic. That grandiose sense of scale that existed in the first two movies have been exchanged for a more personal means of analysis; through which the topics of boundaries, greed, companionship, aging and so much more are presented to us. And I think I'm better off having watched this than if I didn't.

I watched this movie at Sydney Film Festival and I found it really disappointing. Film tries to narrate a story of ordinary salesman in a nowhere land where everything is cold and grey and the audience are supposed to laugh at various dialogues showing the absurdity of human condition. Alienation , humanity and dead relationships...Film starts with 3 confrontation with death....and frankly speaking we have seen better confrontations at Seventh Seal by Ingmar Bergman. I watched this film because I generally like Scandinavian films but this one -to me- was very shallow. However despite my rating of this film, Have to credit the director for shot composition of every scene. I don't recall any camera movement through out the film. Steady camera frames a scene and you see what happens within this frame till the end of sequence. Good job on this, but for the whole experience it was really hyped.

Where to start? The title. A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on it's Existence is about as inchoate, strange, and long as its title suggests, and I doubt that anybody entering in this film is going to be misled as to what they should expect.

And different it is. Roy Andersson is already well established as Sweden's best living filmmaker, a master of macabre humor and sweeping, complex productions with shots so meticulously crafted (it takes him close to a decade between films) that it's a wonder he's still around to present his latest effort.

The set up is the same as his two previous masterpieces; Songs from the Second Floor and We the Living were startling when first introduced, a new precedent for surrealist filmmaking and imagery so alive with detail and meaning that they were immediately praised. Taking a careful look at his work shows that he has been perfecting this wide screen, hideously fluorescent - living corpse approach to just about every thing he's ever made (mainly commercials) except for his earliest film, the fairly more straight forward, but just as well crafted 'A Swedish Love Story'.

I'm not sure if Pigeon is as successful as his earlier films, or if I've just grown weary of this sort of cynical, existentialist outlook. This film was depressing. It does feel as though he has less to say here too. Instead of the tight, laser like satire of Songs from the Second Floor, or bright, surrealist musical We the Living - we get a more scattered, discombobulated theme of general malaise and unhappiness with institutions of government, apathy, and lots and lots of grey tones.

There are scenes that pick up and suddenly propel us into a world almost as vibrant as his earlier films, such as the procession of singing sailors in Limping Lotte's bar circa 1940's or several extremely long and complicated takes involving many extras that mirror back to Songs from the Second Floor's best scenes. It's also interesting to note that it appears out of all his work in the past twenty years he's moved the camera a total - I think - three times. I noticed the camera move once in this film, a process so laborious we might as well be watching somebody try and move a mountain.

There aren't many complaints. I yearn to see more films as daring as Andersson's, so I will have to make do with the fact that his world - as bleak as it is - is completely unlike any others.

It's not a typical kind of humour: in it there is also a glance of melancholy and it gathers outcast characters showing all their fragilities.

The movie is composed by 39 shots and each of them is a sequence. That fact sometimes makes the movie a little too slow.

The scenography and the directorial cut of every shot are very interesting. Often they remind Wes Anderson's shots.

This film is not an immediate view.

Quite liked the look of this from the trailer, and the reviews I saw were good, but this is the worst film I have ever watched in the cinema. Art-house drivel. Quite nicely made, but truly dull pretentious crap. I've never come so close to walking out of a cinema; after about half way, you realise its not going to get any better. I've never bothered writing a review before, but this film was so bad, I just had to come home and write one to try to feel less bad about wasting my money. I would strongly advise that unless you are into that kind of art-house nonsense where absolutely nothing happens, with the deliberately drawn out scenes of nothing happening and 'arty' repetitions, then avoid this film. Reminded me of reading 'Waiting for Godot' at school, so maybe if you're into that, you'll like this. Dull, dull, dull.