'Pigeon' Film Delivers Deadpan Art House Comedy

July 25, 2015 at 7:15 AM PDT

ANCHOR INTRO: “A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence” is the final part of a Swedish trilogy about being human. KPBS film critic Beth Accomando says the adventuresome filmgoer will be rewarded by this delightfully eccentric work playing at the Digital Gym Cinema. PIGEON 1 (ba) 1:22 OPTIONAL TAG: A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence runs through Thursday at the Digital Gym Cinema in North Park. Roy Andersson imprints every frame of his films with his unique personal vision. The first frame of “A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence” immediately establishes its tone as we see a man examining stuffed birds at a museum as we observe him. I’m not sure how to convey the experience of watching Andersson’s film except to say it has the deadpan comic precision of Buster Keaton but without the physical pratfalls. Andersson makes me laugh with just his visual composition. Each scene is like still life painting in which an incongruity makes me smile. Andersson’s sets look stripped down and bare, like model homes in which there are only token props to make it look lived in, and the people –stripped of any overt emotions -- seem like props themselves. His characters look more the walking dead than those on the AMC series – they have a deathlike pallor and often stare blankly as if they’ve forgotten their purpose. But then magical things happen… like this scene where the zombie-like figures suddenly come to life to practice flamenco. CLIP Flamenco dancing The relentless consistency of tone and style without a conventional narrative to latch onto may grow tedious for some. But there are so many wondrous moments to savor, like a pair of the gloomiest salesmen pitching vampire teeth and a laughing bag to disinterested clients. CLIP canned laughter The film’s simplicity lays bare what makes us human and the film displays compassion for our vulnerabilities and frailties. Beth Accomando, KPBS News.

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“A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence,” which opened Friday at the Digital Gym Cinema, is the final part of a Swedish trilogy about being human.

'A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence' Delivers Deadpan Art House Comedy

KPBS film critic Beth Accomando reviews Roy Andersson's final installment of his "living" trilogy, "A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence."

Companion Viewing

"The Draughtsman's Contract" (1982)

"Songs from the Second Floor" (2000)

"You, the Living" (2004)

“A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence,” which opened Friday at the Digital Gym Cinema, is the final part of a Swedish trilogy about being human.

I know. That title sounds off-puttingly arty, and you're already looking to see what's playing at the mall theater so as to avoid feeling guilt for not being more game to gamble on an art house film. But hold on for a second before you consider "Ant-Man" or "Jurassic World." Roy Andersson's "A Pigeon Sat on A Branch..." is art house but irreverently so.

The film is the third and final installment in what he calls his "living" trilogy. It follows "Songs from the Second Floor" and "You, the Living," and won the Golden Lion for Best Film at the Venice International Film Festival.

Andersson said the title refers to the 1565 painting "The Hunters in the Snow" by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. In the painting of a rural wintertime scene, some birds are perched on tree branches, and he imagined that the birds are watching the people below and wondering what they are doing. And the film is about what we as humans are actually doing.

As with David Lynch and Peter Greenaway, Andersson imprints every frame of his films with his unique personal vision.

The first frame of “A Pigeon Sat on a Branch” immediately establishes its tone as we see a man examining stuffed birds at a museum as we observe him. I’m not sure how to convey the experience of watching Andersson’s film except to say it has the deadpan comic precision of Buster Keaton but without the physical pratfalls. Andersson makes me laugh with just his visual composition. Each scene is like a still-life painting in which an incongruity makes me smile.

Andersson’s sets look stripped down and bare, like model homes in which there are only token props to make it look lived in, and the people — stripped of any overt emotions — seem like props themselves. His characters look more like the walking dead than those on the AMC series — they have a deathlike pallor and often stare blankly as if they’ve forgotten their purpose. But then magical things happen … like a scene where the zombie-like figures suddenly come to life to practice flamenco. Or later when King Charles XII of Sweden rides his horse into a present-day diner.

The relentless consistency of tone and style without a conventional narrative to latch on to may grow tedious for some. But there are so many wondrous moments to savor in the film, like a pair of the gloomiest salesmen pitching vampire teeth and a laughing bag to disinterested clients.

The film's simplicity lays bare what makes us human — because there are no other distractions — and it displays compassion for our vulnerabilities, frailties and flaws.

NOTE: Subscribe to the new Cinema Junkie podcast on iTunes to stay up to date with all of Beth Accomando's reviews and enjoy gems from nearly three decades of interview archives, including one with Sir Ian McKellan talking about adapting Shakespeare to the screen and "Mad Max: Fury Road's" Nicholas Hoult at age 19 talking about the film "Wah-Wah."