In The Last Journey (Den sista resan), Swedish TV duo Filip Hammar and Fredrik Wikingsson embark on a road trip to the south of France, documenting Filip’s efforts to lift the spirits of his 80-year-old father, Lars. The film has made waves in Sweden and was the country’s submission for Best International Feature at this year’s Academy Awards, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me.
Lars Hammar is a retired French teacher whose post-retirement depression prompted his son Filip to plan an epic adventure. Along with his TV partner and best friend Fredrik, Filip takes his Francophile father back to Beaulieu-sur-Mer to recreate times of joy.
From a technical standpoint, it’s impressive stuff. The film flawlessly blends together current footage with Lars’s audio diaries, old family videos and animated photographs. We see Filip and Fredrik find local actors to stage a dramatic-yet-hilarious traffic argument, to Lars’s delight. In another scene, they try to pull off an elaborate operation involving meticulously timing a train to the second for Lars to tell a funny anecdote. These moments gorgeously capture Lars’s endearing character and his son’s love for him. My favourite moment has to be when Filip and Fredrik push the car, with Lars behind the wheel, across the French border. Lars exclaims joyfully ‘Vive le France!’ as he literally drives into the country.
Visually, The Last Journey is stunning, with striking colours, sweeping drone shots and animated maps. Sometimes, though, it feels like it’s competing with the story itself. The scale of the production – particularly the glittering grand shots of their drive through France – makes me wonder whether Filip and Fredrik had their own ambitions in mind first when planning this film. Perhaps a possible travel documentary series in the vein of The Trip with Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan is on their vision boards?
The film undoubtedly works best when Lars speaks for himself. There is genuine magic when Lars opens up about his years as a teacher, his passion for France, and his thoughts on growing older. Yet, I felt increasingly uneasy watching this wonderful man – someone who still feels guilt over a minor outburst at a taxi driver decades ago – become visibly emotional only for the film to abruptly cut to archival footage that dictates the moment’s meaning. His own words would have been more powerful. Filip and Fredrik stage scenes designed to elicit a reaction from Lars, but his responses aren’t always immediate. He often looks vulnerable in these moments, and given that he himself admits to struggling with self-expression, it feels wrong to be waiting for an emotional payoff.
There’s always some element of construction in documentary filmmaking. My mind harkened back to another documentary I saw last year with a similar premise that incorporated some pre-planned scenes, yet still managed to present a heartfelt and sincere portrayal. In Bye Bye Tiberias (2023), Lena Soualem documents her mother, actress Hiam Abbass, as she journeys back to her homeland. The film allows emotional beats to emerge naturally, resulting in a deeply moving and authentic picture. The Last Journey seems to take a different approach. It seems to prioritise establishing the film set up first, then slotting footage into this vision, rather than letting them unfold organically.
I don’t doubt Filip loves his dad – this is clear throughout the film – but part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that Lars’s depression was, to some extent, exploited for the sake of the story. During a touching sequence near the end, I was completely distracted by Filip, who seemed so eager for a bigger reaction from his father. The moment stood well on its own, yet Filip’s anticipation made it feel as though he were coaxing an emotional climax. It’s likely that he was seeking assurance of his dad’s renewal rather than aiming for cinematic drama, but earlier moments in the film had already made me cynical.
Despite its flaws, The Last Journey remains an engaging, heartfelt film. It resonates with anyone who has watched a parent or loved one grow older and struggled with the helplessness of wanting to turn back time. But it’s difficult to say how much of this was truly Lars’s journey and how much was shaped around him. Perhaps, in the end, it’s about Filip coming to terms with his father’s frailty, which would be a valid and compelling story in itself.
Sweden may have submitted The Last Journey for the Oscars, but it ultimately didn’t make the shortlist. Perhaps that’s fitting. In the end, what matters most isn’t the accolades or the cinematic flourishes. The real hope is that, for Lars, this journey was more than just a film.
7/10
