The Square

Christian, the director of a contemporary art museum in Stockholm, is trapped in his own facade of progressive intellectualism. Everything seems under control: avant-garde exhibitions, dinners with patrons, and speeches about democracy and empathy. Until a publicity campaign for his new exhibition — a square of light on the floor symbolizing "a sanctuary of trust and care" — becomes a viral disaster. The piece, intended to invite reflection, ends up being ridiculed on social media, misinterpreted by the press, and used as an excuse for a grotesque performance during a charity gala. What starts as a satire of the hypocrisy of the art world turns into an uncomfortable mirror: Christian is not the compassionate man he thinks he is, but a privileged individual who only acts when it suits him.

Rubén Östlund, the director, spares no one. With acidic humor and long takes that force you to look straight on, he dismantles the self-complacency of a cultural elite that preaches values it does not practice. The scene of Christian's phone being stolen — and his subsequent hunt for the presumed thief, a migrant child — is one of those that leaves you breathless: the protagonist, so sure of his morality, reveals himself to be a coward willing to humiliate an innocent person in order to save his reputation. There are no heroes here, only characters who think they are better than they are.

The Palme d'Or at Cannes (2016) was not a casual award. *The Square* is uncomfortable, intelligent, and necessary, a film that forces you to laugh at yourself before pointing a finger at you. If contemporary art seems like a scam to you, or, on the contrary, a religion, this film will hurt. And that's exactly what's needed.

Rubén Östlund dismantles contemporary art with a scalpel of black humor. Claes Bang is an uncomfortable mirror of our hypocrisy. Brutal.

" Empathy requires courage. Are you prepared for that? — Christian (Claes Bang)

" It's just a monkey in a suit. Why are you offended? — Oleg (Terry Notary)