By: Mason Mattu, Section Editor
What does the future of the publishing industry, playing a youthful game involving lipstick, swimming in a pool naked, anti-capitalist conversations, and a steamy workplace relationship all have in common? It’s Love and Anarchy, a Netflix Swedish rom-com that is the most refreshing thing you can watch this Valentine’s season.
The show follows the story of Sofie Rydman, a married, middle-aged mother of two, as she enters a new consulting position at a failing publishing house. Here, she begins an affair with a 20-something-year-old IT temp named Max. However, their relationship isn’t anything seen in a typical office age-gap romance like Babygirl. In a youthful game of truth or dare, the pair takes turns holding Sofie’s lipstick. Whoever has the lipstick has to dare the other to do something unconventional, like walking backwards for an entire day, yelling at management, or even embarrassing themselves in front of authors.
Yes, romance is prominent in the show, but it’s not at its core. For Sofie, who is trapped in a loveless relationship, this simple game tells her that it’s OK to be creative again. It’s alright to embrace her inner author and let go of the corporate world that she’s been trapped in. That there’s someone in life who can love both herself and her whimsical attitude without calling a therapist because of it (yes, her husband actually does that). While Max and Sofie have a consistent “will they, won’t they” throughout the two seasons of the show, it is clear that, no matter their fate, they have both taught each other to embrace the silly goofy side of them, to take life less seriously, and to truly fall in love with the mundane.
Another prominent theme of the show is the struggle between capitalism and creativity within the publishing industry. Sofie was raised by a communist father who often stands outside of grocery stores with signs reading, “Stop consumerism.” As Sofie pushes for the publishing house to adapt to the “modern” (and ultra-capitalistic) landscape of the industry, her dad acts as a sort of devil’s advocate, reminding her that she once was in love with writing and literature, not after chasing dollar signs.
What I like most about this show, beyond the nuanced and multilayered messaging, is the fact that each character is on their own journey.
Whether it’s Sofie and her interpersonal relationships, Max and his struggle with an always-displeased mother, and co-workers navigating the future of the publishing industry, everyone’s on their own journeys that are reflected within a wealth of subplots. I’ve never seen such a complex workplace comedy before.
Perhaps the standout performance of the show belongs to Reine Brynolfsson and his role of Friedreich, a nearing-retirement literary agent who represents the old guard of the publishing industry. Adamantly against new developments, such as e-books and podcasting, he serves as a reminder of what literature ought to look like in an era of modernity. Though he always has something to say about “the radical left,” or “the woke agenda,” Friedreich is on a journey of acceptance of both himself, his age, and of the changing landscape. Brynolfsson is such a dynamic actor and was an outstanding choice for this role.
If I had one issue with this incredible show, it would be that the representation of anti-capitalist ideas is muddled. Often, the audience is left confused as to whether the show runner wants them to be on the side of embracing the commercialization of literature, or sticking with the old guard. Nonetheless, the message does become clear at the end of the show.
Overall, I would strongly recommend anyone with some free time this Valentine’s Day to grab your partner, cuddle up, and watch a few episodes of Love and Anarchy. It’s a love story . . . but also so much more.
The Peak’s rating: 4.5/5 raccoons. It’s a good show to watch — but maybe not with your parents (might be a little too spicy . . .)!
