‘Force Majeure’: Ruben Östlund unveils the performative nature of masculinity

Many of two-time Palme d’Or winner Ruben Östlund’s films are known for their satirical and comedic takes on a wide range of contemporary social paradigms, including fame, relationships, power and gender. On the latter topic, few works of modern cinema dived into the problematic and complicated nature of masculinity quite like his 2014 black comedy Force Majeure.

Starring Johannes Bah Kuhnke, Lisa Loven Kongsli and Kristofer Hivju, Force Majeure takes place in the midst of a family holiday at a lavish ski resort in the French Alps. Östlund explores the veneers and falsities of masculinity through the relationship between husband Tomas, wife Ebba and their two children during what ought to be the perfect vacation.

Tomas is a seemingly confident father and husband, but a critical moment of crisis sees his bravado crumble into cowardice. The initial controlling patriarchy with which he associates Tomas is proven to be little more than a costume when an avalanche quickly approaches his family as they eat lunch on their hotel’s veranda. However, rather than protect his family, suddenly immersed in a storm of white, he runs away from their table in a move of sheer selfishness.

It’s at this point that Östlund invites the audience to examine Tomas’s fragile nature as a father and the performative aspects of his masculinity. In his flight response from his loved ones, Tomas forgoes the expected role of protector and sees Östlund subvert the admittedly outdated accepted responsibilities of men and women, making Elba the protector and not her husband.

Immediately, Tomas becomes a reprehensible figure to the audience because of his abandonment, but things get far worse from there on out. Rather than accept his response as a sheer survival instinct, he flat out denies it happening, which leads to a dramatic change in his relationship with Elba, who questions his aptitude as a father and further exposes Tomas’ inherent weakness, cowardice and dishonour.

When Tomas’ friend Mats arrives, he attempts to give such an evolutionary psychological explanation to Elba. However, this only seems to upset his younger girlfriend, Fanny, proving the kind of justifications that men are wont to make when their patriarchal dominance is threatened and reinforcing the pressure they experience in upholding the facade of masculinity.

When the avalanche approached, Tomas had been taking a video of his family, so in order to prove his lying, Elba asked her husband to play the video, to find that Tomas had indeed run away from the table and his family, despite his protestations of innocence. His deception is empirically foiled; one might think that Tomas would calmly explain his thought process to Ebla, but what follows utterly damns any glimmer of respect he had held at that point.

We eventually find Tomas sobbing with Elba until she accuses him of not actually crying, which turns out to be true, and our distrust of Tomas soon turns to sheer loathing and abhorrence. In a final move to save his credibility as a husband, Tomas throws a hysterical tantrum, crying in increasingly loud and false yelps, reverting to the little boy that he undoubtedly is.

Östlund’s portrayal of Tomas is one that brilliantly exposes the fragile and performative nature of masculinity itself, delivered in his expert black comedic style. Through highlighting the absurdity of gender roles in modern society, Force Majeure reveals itself as a crucial work of contemporary cinema and one that will remain relevant as long as negative masculine behaviour continues to rear its ugly and pathetic little head.

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