
In Norway, if a young person’s asylum application has been denied, they may receive a permit to stay until they’re 18 at which time they must leave or face deportation back to their home country. For those fleeing persecution or war zones, and seeking a future filled with hope and opportunity, it’s a heartless, bureaucratic outcome. It’s against this backdrop that Hisham Zaman’s ironically titled, deadpan comedy A Happy Day unfolds. The film is a noble attempt to illuminate the humanity behind the headlines, but its heavily mannered stylization often gets in the way of its message resonating.
The action takes place at a youth reception center in Norway that is so isolated, barren, and cold, the authorities don’t even bother with watchtowers, fences, or barbed wire to keep its residents from fleeing. That doesn’t stop the poetry writing Hamid (Salah Qadi) and his friends Aras (Ravand Ali Taha) and Ismail (Mohamed Salah) from working on an escape plan. Somehow, they’re going to get to the other side of the mountain before their 18th birthdays when they’ll be unceremoniously shipped away from the country — and each other. Their careful preparations are disrupted by the arrival of the feisty and headstrong Aida (Sarah Aman Mentzoni), especially when she strikes up a romance with Hamid that threatens to split the free friends apart.
Combining the pastel, unreality set design of Roy Andersson, with a tone that favors Aki Kaurismaki mixed with a splash of Wes Anderson quirkiness, Zaman places his very real world concerns inside what is essentially a snowglobe. It allows the filmmaker the freedom not to worry about exactly replicating the conditions and rules of Norway’s asylum system. However, without a check on his ability to invent and dip into fantasy, the sluggishly paced A Happy Day starts slowly sliding so far from reality that it becomes difficult to remain attached to the plight of these characters.
Hamid’s troubling backstory is gradually meted out, as we discover he’s suffering from PTSD or mental illness after managing to escape from being used as a child suicide bomber. Aida’s remarks suggest she was a victim of human trafficking. In a world that has stripped them of their identity, the secrets they hold are the quartet’s greatest currency, and their connection is forged by the trust they place in each other. But as the film goes on, its haiku like dialogue (particularly from Hamid), and continually arch mood obfuscates its tenderest moments and disconnects us from its complex characters. The frequent spins into fantasy or dream sequences, especially in the film’s second half, also work to push us away from the story right when it should be pulling us in.
Despite the wavering tone of the picture (which includes a minor subplot that seems inspired by Porky’s) it’s held together by its lovely ensemble performances. Even as they must wrangle a prose poetry script, Qadi and Mentzoni create a spark that rises above the film’s aesthetic tics. Meanwhile, Taha is terrific as the totally crushed out Aras, whose unrequited love for Ingvild (Anja Saiva Bongo Bjørnstad), a soldier stationed on a nearby base, leads to some of the film’s most amusing moments and memorable dialogue (“Stop asking me to talk to girls about serious things. It breaks my heart,” he tells Hamid after another disappointing meeting with Ingvild).
A film needn’t strictly replicate the real world to have something meaningful to say about asylum seekers. The aforementioned Kaurismaki showed that with Le Havre and The Other Side Of Hope, pictures that fully retained his sensibility and humor, without sacrificing the moving and relatable heart of their stories, and their pointed politics. Zaman, unfortunately, can’t find that balance. A Happy Day often finds its style overwhelming its substance, leaving its audience longing for any development that doesn’t come wrapped in a riddle.
Director: Hisham Zaman
Screenplay: Hisham Zaman
Cast: Salah Qadi, Ravand Ali Taha, Mohamed Salah, Sarah Aman Mentzoni, Hilde Skovdahl, Aryan Pezeshki, Thea Sofie Loch Næss, Stig Frode Henriksen, Anja Saiva Bongo Bjørnstad
Producers: Hisham Zaman
Cinematography: Lukasz Zamaro
Production design: Reinert Kiil
Editing: Joakim Schager
Music: Anthony Lledo
Sound: Håkon Lammetun
Production companies: Snowfall Cinema (Norway), Zentropa (Denmark), Rein Film (Norway), Take1 (Norway)
Venue: Toronto International Film Festival (Centerpiece)
In Norwegian, Sámi
113 minutes