Lars Hammar was a beloved French high school teacher in the Swedish town of Köping, teaching for 40 years. He and his wife, Tina, raised two children together, while also harboring a lifelong love for French life and culture. Upon retiring at the age of 66, he was filled with hope and anticipation for the life that lay ahead, free from the constraints of full-time work.
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03-03, 2025However, 14 years later, the reality was starkly different. Plagued by various health problems, Lars was merely existing, his once vibrant passion for life eroded by the physical and mental toll of aging. His son, Philippe, growing increasingly frustrated with his father's state of despondency, decided to take him on a trip to Beaulieu-sur-Mer, a French coastal town that was the site of their past vacations and some of his father's happiest memories.
Philippe enlisted his best friend, Fredrik Wikingsson (the film's co-director), and bought a small, orange Renault 4, the very car his father used to take the family on trips. Initially, Lars was reluctant, but Philippe persuaded him. However, early in the journey, they encountered a setback when Lars fell in his hotel room. Undeterred, Philippe and Fredrik continued their road trip while Lars recuperated, after which Lars flew to Beaulieu-sur-Mer to meet them.
The attempt to rekindle Lars's passion for life recommenced, but with mixed results. For non-Swedish audiences, it's important to note that Philippe and Fredrik are a popular TV duo who have been active on Swedish television screens for decades. This explains the high level of production quality in this film that seemingly made by two friends without media experience. Despite Philippe's good intentions, his behavior is sometimes difficult to watch. He is overly assertive and inconsiderate, constantly badgering his father to do things, and it's clear that Philippe has never lived with someone with mental illness, let alone one exacerbated by the physical challenges of aging.
Conversely, we also see Lars burdened by the heavy weight of others' expectations of him. Philippe's inability to accept his father's mortality is a recurring theme in the film, waxing and waning in intensity, ultimately culminating at the end of the film in a particularly heartbreaking scene where Philippe encourages his father to recreate his famous vegetable stew, with counterproductive results. The film gradually evolves into Philippe's journey of accepting aging and death.
But there is much to love about this film. Fredrik serves as a helpful foil to Philippe, who insists that his father can recapture his former glory by retracing his life's steps, and Lars does indeed come alive during their travels—which is a delight to see. Nonetheless, the film is also exceptionally funny, especially Lars's dark humor and the slapstick antics that occur in "Europe's most frequently overtaken car."
Shots of present-day Lars cautiously reacquainting himself with the places of his youth are overlaid with recordings of his youthful diaries—a younger man who was a gregarious, perpetually sunburnt bon vivant with many strings to his bow: a fervent storyteller, guitarist, and chef. The distance between the two fills the film with an inescapable melancholy. But those quieter, more sensitive moments in the film are rarely allowed to linger, often drowned out by Kristian Olsson's overbearing score, which, at times, seems to symbolize Philippe's smothering of his father.
Despite this, the deep friendship between Philippe and Fredrik, and the bond between Philippe and his father, are a powerful rebuttal to the repressive cloak of toxic masculinity. These men are open with each other about their feelings, prone to outbursts of emotion and expressions of affection. In a film dominated by male characters, with the exception of Philippe's mother, this is a beautiful thing to observe.
Documentary purists may take issue with some of the problems in "The Last Journey" due to its structure. Close-up shots of Philippe, Fredrik, and Lars in their bright orange Renault as they make their way from Köping to Beaulieu-sur-Mer are interwoven with cinematography depicting the magnificent scenery around them—which makes it feel more like a feature film than a documentary. The transcendent beauty of northwestern Europe in autumn is so exquisitely evoked that the film at times almost feels like a travel advertisement.
In an attempt to awaken Lars's memories and reignite that sense of joy, Philippe and Fredrik also use entirely fabricated scenarios to provoke a reaction from Lars, further blurring the lines between fact and fiction and relegating him to an inert actor in his own life. The film's selection as Sweden's entry for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film further muddies the waters, although its emotional resonance means that it is also the country's highest-grossing documentary.
Anyone with aging parents will undoubtedly empathize with the scenarios depicted in "The Last Journey," but its greatest achievement is arguably elevating the life of an ordinary man—living in what Philippe calls "Sweden's most boring town"—to something worthy of celebration and preservation. An incredibly moving moment at the end of the film is nothing short of tear-jerking—and is more of a recognition of someone who had a significant impact on the many people he influenced than a linear path to recovery.
