Oscar Winner "Sentimental Value": Why Things Suddenly Mean Everything to Us
Finally! They did it. A murmur rippled through the crowd at this year's Oscars when Joachim Trier's "Sentimental Value" was named Best International Film. Watching it live, I thought: it's about time, Norway. Industry insiders have been whispering for years that the Scandinavians were due for another major win – and now, it's finally happened. A film that arrives so quietly, yet creates such a stir – you have to tip your hat to that kind of achievement.
The story follows a family in Oslo sorting through their late mother's apartment. They're standing there with boxes full of stuff: an old fountain pen, letters with yellowed edges, a chipped coffee pot. None of it is worth a dime on the open market, yet they'd fight to keep every last piece. I know the feeling myself. That one book that still smells like Grandma's house. Or the frying pan that always made the best hash browns. It's that phenomenon, that invisible glue that binds us to objects.
The Real Value That No Price Tag Shows
We all have a pretty good sense of value – but here, we're not talking about the price of gold. It's called emotional attachment, that intrinsic 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, out of tune. But the daughter absolutely has to keep it because it holds her childhood memories. It's precisely these kinds of scenes that Joachim Trier captures so masterfully. No wonder the film now has an Oscar – it shows us that we're all a little bit sentimental when it comes to the things we collect.
Books as Silent Witnesses
This week, I stumbled upon an English book in a bookstore in Bern: "Once Upon a Tome: The Misadventures of a Rare Bookseller." It's about an antiquarian bookseller in Bath who deals daily with the emotional attachments of others. People bring in old books that are essentially worthless – but tucked inside is an inscription from 1923 or a pressed forget-me-not. Suddenly, that book becomes a treasure. It's the exact same magic you see in the film.
Sometimes I think: the things that truly matter to us have no price. They're just there, like quiet companions. I started thinking about which objects in my own life carry the most sentimental value. Here are my top three:
- My dad's old, worn-out record he passed down to me – it skips at the best part, but that's precisely what makes it special.
- A little thank-you note my niece wrote as a kid and slipped under my apartment door.
- An old wall calendar from 1999 that I just can't throw away because I used to jot down my homework in it every night.
I bet every single one of us has a box in the attic or a drawer stuffed with things that would be completely baffling to an outsider. But that's precisely the beauty of it. "Sentimental Value" has taken that idea all the way to Hollywood – and honestly, it's an honor our quiet treasures truly deserve.