I’m halfway through the recent Swedish film Hypnosen when I have to switch off my TV. It’s not that I dislike it—it’s more like it’s hitting too close to home.
The film is about this couple — Vera and André (the latter played by Herbert Nordrum, who was also in The Worst Person in the World, a film I’ve written about previously) — who are building an app which they hope will make a dent in the universe.
The story plays out over a weekend when Vera and André are preparing for a prestigious startup contest. To maximise their chance of winning, they sign up for an exclusive pitch training workshop. The session is held by ‘Julian’, played by David Fukamachi Regnfors, one of my favourite contemporary Swedish actors.
Julian is seen as some kind of an oracle to the film’s budding entrepreneurs, who hang on to his every word and gesture. It’s not clear what earned him his reputation, but he’s revered much like a latter day Steve Jobs.
The twist that turns the story into comedy is this: While the other people in the room are mesmerised by Julian, Vera is under a very different spell. Looking to kick her smoking habit she’s gone to see a hypnotist who, quite accurately, diagnose the cigarettes as a mere symptom of Vera’s general submissiveness to the patriarchy. Under hypnosis, and unaware of it herself, Vera begins to defy the unwritten rules of social hierarchies.
The premise makes for great comedy; only I soon choke on my laughter because of how true to life much of the film’s story proves to be. What ought to be funny turns out to be rather sad.
When I look back at the experience from the distance of a few weeks, it seems the core problem somehow has to do with authenticity.
The film paints a picture of aspiring entrepreneurs who are—almost by definition—full of shit, who say they want to change the word, when really they’re just building ‘yet another app’.
The saint-like Julian knows and accepts this, but makes it his job to help people come across as more ‘real’ than they really are. Enter Vera in her altered state of mind, and the masquerade is revealed for what it is.
The whole thing is halfway funny because it’s true in the sense that there really are lots of people out there who wants to get into the startup game just for the sake of it, who try to create a thin veneer of authenticity, even though it’s clear to everyone that what they’re building is trivial.
It’s also somewhat sad though, in the sense that lots of people have the opposite problem. They’re the resourceful scientists and inventors who come up with ideas which in a very real way could contribute to solving humanity’s problems. They’re genuinely trying to make a difference, but often find themselves challenged in getting onto a stage and tell the world what they do.
When I turn off Hypnosen halfway through, it’s partly because its subtext seems to ignore this; the film is telling us that the whole startup circus is just one big collective delusion—a vanity fair where what you say matters more than what you do.
This is understandable, given how shows like Shark Tank have turned entrepreneurship into a spectator sport. But it also hides that pitching isn’t just for show. In reality, finding the right storyline can make all the difference between a promising technology that stays in the lab and a product that reaches the world.