I have a theory that when you see a film that changes you — that makes you feel seen in a whole new way or reorganizes how you think — you remember where you were when it happened.

You remember the cinema you saw it in (or the couch you were sitting on).

You remember who you were with.

When a film feels like a discovery, you remember the exact conditions that made it possible for you to even see that movie.

Maybe most crucially, you remember where you were in life at that moment that made you so ready to receive that film.

If you’re thinking of one already — hold onto it.

(I love asking people this question because the answers reveal what kinds of stories we’re each drawn to.)

For me, it’s Joachim Trier’s Oslo, August 31st — a Norwegian drama about a recovering heroin user who walks around Oslo for a day, meeting friends, and deciding whether he wants to rebuild his life or end it.

He feels like he's the most disconnected man in Oslo — and yet the film makes us acutely aware of how connected he is, without downplaying or sugarcoating his situation. That's why I keep calling it life-affirming — because it makes visible, to us if not to him, those connections that can so often feel invisible.

It's my #1 film of the 2010s, and possibly of this century, too.

So here's what I remember about where I was when I saw it..

I remember seeing Oslo, August 31st at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2011, hoping for a Q&A. (The questions were embarrassingly bad. But Trier’s answers were still great.)

I remember taking a friend with me who I’d been dragging to TIFF for long enough that our ritual was seeing a “whacky French sex comedy” every year. This film was a notable difference.

I remember taking a gamble on Oslo, August 31st, even though I was worried it might be too depressing. The programmer called it “the best directed film at Cannes" and I had a gap in my schedule — and thank goodness I did!

And I remember exactly where I was in life that it felt like this was a movie made just for me.

I had just packed up all my worldly belongings to move from Toronto to California, which meant, like Anders, I already felt like an alien in my own city.

And like Anders, I’d just visited my childhood home for the last time ever before it was sold off, where the last thing I also did was sit down and play the piano.

No wonder it felt like the film reached directly into my brain and made the story of my life.

Fourteen years later, I can see so much more about what made me fall head over heels for it — some of it personal, some of it because the film is just that good.

But it helped that it hit me in the right way, at the right time.

I bet you have a story like that, too — about another film.

Something that became immediate personal canon, where seeing it feels like a sense memory.

If one’s already come to mind, hit reply and tell me — even just the title and where you saw it.

I really do read them all.

Alex

P.S. If you’re new here (or it’s been a while), I’m Alex — editor, writer, podcaster, and Trier obsessive for 14 years. I've spent a decade interviewing Trier and his team because his films keep hitting me like this. Lately, I've been thinking about how we can explore his work together, and I'm looking forward to sharing more soon.

P.P.S. I may have stolen a rhetorical device from Oslo, August 31st to write this email.

If you spotted it, I’ve got something planned for December that you’ll probably love.

And if you don’t yet — you will by the end of it.