theartsdesk Q&A: filmmaker Dag Johan Haugerud on sex, love, and confusion in the modern world

"First love is always both terrible and wonderful at the same time", says the 60-year-Norwegian dramatist-novelist-director Dag Johan Haugerud, whose new film Oslo Stories: Dreams is all about the most beautiful and painful feeling in the world. 

Taking the top prize at this year's Berlin film festival, Haugerud's drama is no singular achievement but one-third of a loose trilogy that non-judgmentally explores the complexities of human relationships, sexual identity, and romantic and not-so-romantic love and passion. Each film presents characters troubled in some way by their inner selves as they negotiate today's hazardous amatory terrain. The results are wry, tender, and often disarmingly candid.

Dreams tells the story of 17-year-old Johanne (Ella Øverbye) as she falls in love with her high school's new French teacher, Johanna (Selome Emnetu). Overwhelmed by her emotions and desire, the sensitive teenager finds comfort in writing a sort of memoir about what might or might not have happened between them. Perspectives and perceptions soon start to shift as first Johanne's grandmother (Anne Marit Jacobsen) and subsequently Johanne's mother (Ane Dahl Torp) get to read the delicately detailed manuscript.

In the next of the three films to open here, Love (which opens August 15), Marianne, a pragmatic doctor, and her colleague Tor, a compassionate nurse, are both avoiding conventional relationships in favour of casual encounters with men, and the kind of estranged intimacy that comes with it. The two ostensibly straight male chimney sweeps in Sex (opening August 22) have experiences that lead them to question their expectations about sexuality and masculinity in different ways.

What binds these films together beyond their playful, investigative nature and literary flavour is the deftness and subtlety of a hitherto little known independent film artist. Shortly after winning the Golden Bear at the Berlinale, Haugerud sat down for a conversation about the power of writing, truthfulness, and first love.

PAMELA JAHN: Do you remember your first big crush?

JOHAN DAG HAUGERUD: I do, quite well, actually. I have a very vivid memory of being completely immersed in that warm feeling, the butterflies in my stomach. But also the uncertainty and the fear of rejection. You constantly analyse everything, every gesture, every word, until it becomes a love story in your head.

How did you process this whirlwind of emotions back then?

I started writing a diary very early on. But to be honest, my first love was rather fleeting, like blowing up and popping a balloon. As soon as the romance became reality, it was all over pretty quickly.

From today's perspective, it seems almost old-fashioned that Johanne in Dreams writes down her love story instead of sharing it on Instagram. 

Writing is a fascinating and therapeutic process on many levels, and it's timeless. On the one hand, writing gives you access to your own thoughts. At least, that was the case for me when I was younger. It helped me find my personal voice. But it can also be healing in a very special way. Writing frees the mind at any age or point in your life. I don't think posting stories on social media has the same power. 

How has your own writing process changed over the years?

I don't analyse it. I just write whatever comes to mind. In fact, I'm not really interested in telling stories in the traditional sense. I'm not interested in plot lines or dramatic twists and turns. I much prefer to observe different situations and try to build on them and relate them to each other.

What makes you a good observer?

I'm open-minded and not easily surprised. I have few expectations and just let things happen, not only in terms of events and situations, but also when I meet people. I try not to judge or limit them to my expectations in any way, especially in conversations. It's often more important to listen to how the tone of their voice might change rather than paying too much attention to how they behave. That way, you can pick up on their insecurities or awkwardness much better than you can from facial expressions or gestures.

All three films in your Oslo Stories trilogy deal with intimate human relations. Is there such a thing as a perfect relationship?

No, all relationships are problematic. It can be just as difficult to live in a monogamous marriage as it is to have an open or polyamorous relationship. There are always conflicts because that's human nature. We all have different emotions and want different things. The biggest challenge is figuring out what you want in terms of sexuality and love, to realise what really makes you happy. Above all, it's about learning to be honest with yourself. Of course, the society you live in also plays a role. But first you must accept yourself. Everything else is secondary. (Pictured below, by Agnete Brun: Selome Emnetu, left, and Ella Øverbye)For Dreams, did you always have a female story in mind?

Yes, I wrote it for these women. I had already worked with Ella Øverbye [in 2019's Beware of Children aka Barn] when she was 11 years old, and I wanted to explore how she had developed over time, both as a person and as an actress. The same goes for Ane Dahl Torp and Anne Marit Jacobsen. I've known them for a long time, but I've never seen them together as daughter and mother. To me, they seem very similar in some ways, even though they have very different characters.

What was so fascinating about Ella Øverbye that made you want to follow her career?

We met at a regular casting for my film Beware of Children. She was the third girl I spoke to, and we clicked immediately. We had the same sense of humour, which is important to me when I work with actors, because it makes the communication much easier. I also felt that we trusted each other right away. I'm quite insecure as a director, and actors, especially when they're young, often feel the same way. So it's important that you find a way to make it work together.

Dreams addresses the fine line between fiction and truth. Does it matter what really happened between Johanne and her teacher?

Yes. But truth and reality can be two different things. When you feel something deep in your heart, those emotions are real, and what Johanne experiences in this love story is very true for her. Her teacher experiences and feels the same way. When we see Johanna in the scene with Johanne's mother, we understand that even if certain things didn't happen in real life, they happened to Johanne in a certain way. It's a grey area to define when a certain behaviour becomes a sexual advance. When does sex become sex? What are the two characters experiencing, even if they are not having sexual intercourse in the conventional sense?

Why was it important to you to use Johannes' voiceover at the beginning?

Because everything she thinks or does is completely subjective. Everything you see in the first part of the film happens in her head. That's how she experienced her own life, that's how she thought about it. As the audience, you put yourself completely in her shoes, because that's what she demands. At some point, she even stops the action. She has total control – at least up to a certain point.

Is Dreams the part of the trilogy in which you felt most free artistically and creatively?

Not necessarily, because even when I wrote the script, it had a strange structure. You don't really know where the centre of the film is because it jumps back and forth the whole time. I had some reservations about whether it would work on screen. But then I just went with it. It was more like writing literature, which was a very rare experience.

You've made three films about people's innermost feelings, their doubts, and their vulnerabilities. How do you look at your own relationships today?

I'd like to believe that working on the trilogy has helped me develop as a director, but also on a human level. I see sexuality as something pleasurable, something that needs attention – just like the question of one's own sexual identity.

Dreams has been described as a coming-of-age story. But isn't it rather the mother and grandmother who need to grow up here?

Absolutely, but in different ways. The most interesting character for me is probably the grandmother. When you're young, you have lots of opportunities to develop and try things out. But when you're older, it's different. You still have the same desires, the same dreams. But how do you find a way to pursue these passions when you're in your mid-seventies?

The order of the films is not fixed. In the UK, Dreams opens first, followed by Love, then Sex –was there a fixed order originally?

It's completely different in different countries. In Norway, it was supposed to be Sex, Dreams, and Love. But the different stories are not linked with each other. They work in different sequences.

Did the dynamics between the films change while you were working on them?

Not while writing, more during the editing process. We restructured things in a way because we shot them in a different order. Originally, Dreams was supposed to be the finale. The idea was that the parts would build on and mirror each other but, in the end, I wasn't so sure that was necessary. The longer I worked on the project, the more the stories and characters began to merge, and I questioned the form and structure less and less.

What makes Oslo a city of love?

All cities are places of longing, dreams, love, sex. But I like Oslo more today than I used to. It took me many years to feel at home there. It was especially exciting for me to see the architecture from a different perspective. I hadn't expected that.

It's a cliché, but Scandinavians are generally considered more open-minded than other peoples when it comes to love and relationships. Would you agree with that?

I feel that the Nordic countries are quite secularised. They don't feel the pressure of Christian morality so much. On the other hand, politics and society are very much focused on traditional family models and planning. Ultimately, it's probably like everywhere else in Europe: if you want to lead a sexually free, independent life, that's entirely possible in the big cities. But if you ask people in rural areas, it's still difficult, even today.

Perhaps there's another story in there for you?

Not for me, not right now. It was a great challenge to approach the subject on so many different levels. If you want, you can make films about love, sex, and everything in between forever. But I don't want to turn it into a franchise. I have other dreams, other ideas.

• More film reviews on theartdesk