Anja is, apparently, terminally ill from a brain tumour that metastasised from lung cancer. It would be hard to tell, since she suffers so lightly and with such great artistic depth. She claims to be greatly nauseous from the treatments, yet never does she deign to vomit. Viewers who have experience of this appalling disease will find it difficult to identify with the wealthy, comfortable way of dying represented here. Anja has immediate access by telephone and in person to the best surgeons in Norway. No doubt every other cancer patient has, too.
While the acting is first rate - the uneasy relationship between Anja and her partner Tomas (22 years older, if the actors' ages are taken) is portrayed fairly successfully - the insulated lifestyle they and their family enjoy is never interrogated, just taken for granted. At the end, one would never have thought Tomas and Anja's relationship was anything other than perfect. And, naturally, it's a fade to black before Anja, head still strangely unshaven, is wheeled into the operating theatre for her life-extending procedure.
Only the wealthy can afford to suffer so elegantly.
While the acting is first rate - the uneasy relationship between Anja and her partner Tomas (22 years older, if the actors' ages are taken) is portrayed fairly successfully - the insulated lifestyle they and their family enjoy is never interrogated, just taken for granted. At the end, one would never have thought Tomas and Anja's relationship was anything other than perfect. And, naturally, it's a fade to black before Anja, head still strangely unshaven, is wheeled into the operating theatre for her life-extending procedure.
Only the wealthy can afford to suffer so elegantly.