Oscar Winner "Sentimental Value": Why Some Things Suddenly Mean the World to Us
Finally! They did it. A ripple of surprise went through the auditorium at this year's Oscar night when Joachim Trier's "Sentimental Value" was named Best International Film. Watching it live, I thought to myself: It's about time, Norway. The industry has been whispering for years that the Scandinavians were due for another big win – and now it's happened. To create a film that arrives so quietly but creates such a stir, that's a real achievement.
It's about a family in Oslo, sorting through their mother's apartment after her death. They're standing there with cartons full of things: an old fountain pen, letters with yellowed edges, a chipped coffee pot. None of it is worth a single rupee, yet they'd fight for every last item. I know this feeling myself. That one book that still smells like my grandmother's place. Or the frying pan that always made the best dosas. It's that phenomenon, that invisible glue that binds us to objects.
The Real Value No Price Tag Shows
We all have a fine sense of value – but here we aren't talking about the price of gold or silver. It's called sentimental value, that intrinsic worth an object holds for us. It defies any market logic. In the film, it's a simple guitar that belonged to the father, barely playable, out of tune. But the daughter absolutely wants to keep it because it holds her childhood memories. These are the exact kind of scenes Joachim Trier captures so masterfully. No wonder the film now has an Oscar – it shows us that we're all a bit sentimental at heart.
Books as Silent Witnesses
This week I discovered an English book in a bookstore: "Once Upon a Tome: The Misadventures of a Rare Bookseller". It's about an antiquarian bookseller in Bath who deals daily with the sentimental value of other people. People bring in old books that aren't worth much anymore – but inside, there's an inscription from 1923 or a pressed forget-me-not. And suddenly, the book becomes a treasure. It's the exact same magic as in the film.
Sometimes I think: The things that truly matter to us don't have a price. They're just there, like silent companions. I've thought about which objects in my own life hold the most sentimental value. Here are three:
- My father's worn-out LP that he passed down to me – it skips at the best part, but that's exactly what makes it special.
- A little note with a thank-you letter from my niece, which she once slipped under my apartment door.
- The old wall calendar from 1999 that I just can't throw away because I noted down my homework in it every evening.
I bet every one of us has a box in the storeroom or a drawer full of things that would seem completely incomprehensible to an outsider. But that's the beauty of it. "Sentimental Value" has now taken that feeling all the way to Hollywood – and I think these quiet treasures truly deserve it.