Oscar Winner "Sentimental Value": Why Some Things Suddenly Mean Everything to Us
Finally! They've done it. A ripple of excitement went through the auditorium at this year's Oscars when Joachim Trier's "Sentimental Value" was named Best International Film. Watching it live, I thought: good on you, Norway. The industry's been whispering for years that the Scandinavians were due for a big win – and now it's happened. To create a film that arrives so quietly, yet causes such a stir, that's a real achievement.
The film follows a family in Oslo, sifting through their late mother's apartment. They're surrounded by boxes full of stuff: an old fountain pen, letters with yellowed edges, a cracked coffee pot. None of it's worth a cent, yet they'd fight to keep it all. I know the feeling. That one book that still smells like your grandmother's place. Or the frypan that always made the best hash browns. It's that phenomenon, that invisible glue that ties us to objects.
The real value that doesn't have a price tag
We Kiwis have a pretty good handle on value – but we're not talking about the property market here. It's called sentimental attachment, that emotional worth an object holds for us. It defies all market logic. In the film, it's a simple guitar that belonged to the father, barely playable and out of tune. But the daughter desperately wants to keep it because it holds her childhood memories. It's moments like these that Joachim Trier captures so masterfully. No wonder the film's got an Oscar now – it shows us that we're all a bit sentimental when it comes to our belongings.
Books as silent witnesses
This week I stumbled across an English book in a shop here: "Once Upon a Tome: The Misadventures of a Rare Bookseller". It's about an antiquarian bookseller in Bath who deals with other people's sentimental attachments every day. People bring in old books that are essentially worthless – but inside, there's an inscription from 1923 or a pressed forget-me-not. Suddenly, that book becomes a treasure. It's the same kind of magic you see in the film.
Sometimes I think: the things that truly matter to us don't have a price. They're just there, like quiet companions. I've been thinking about which objects hold the most sentimental value for me. Here are my top three:
- My dad's worn-out record that he passed down to me – it skips at the best part, but that's exactly what makes it special.
- A little thank-you note 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 used to jot down my homework on it every night.
I'll bet everyone's got a box in the garage or a drawer full of stuff that would seem completely bizarre to anyone else. But that's the beauty of it. "Sentimental Value" has taken that idea all the way to Hollywood – and honestly, those quiet treasures deserve their moment in the sun.