At the 50th edition of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), amid a lineup filled with films that speak of trauma, tension, and stories steeped in darkness, Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value emerges as a breath of fresh air – a film that ultimately chooses repair over ruin. Trier, who cemented himself as an international acclaimed director with The Worst Person in the World (2021), returns with another layered and deeply humane story, this time examining not just the chaos of self-discovery but the inheritances of family, trauma, and the difficult act of making art without destroying the people closest to you.

As many have pointed out after its premiere at the 2025 Cannes festival, Sentimental Value is slower, but the pace feels like a deliberate act of generosity. Trier intentionally lingers on silences, on the small fractures between a father and each of his daughters, on glances that hold more weight than words. This patience creates a rhythm and tone that feels deeply lived-in, allowing the emotions to breathe instead of rushing toward melodrama. And perhaps what I appreciate most about the direction this film takes is that it trusts its audience — to lean in, to listen, and to find meaning in the spaces between dialogue. By the time the film builds to its various emotional peaks, the release feels earned, like the quiet cracking of a long-frozen surface.

The performances carry that same restraint and precision. Renate Reinsve, reuniting with Trier after her breakout in The Worst Person in the World, proves once again why she’s such a magnetic presence on screen. As Nora, she embodies the messiness of being both artist and daughter, showing us someone who is at once fragile, funny, and fiercely self-aware. Stellan Skarsgård, meanwhile, is magnetic in his gruff, uncompromising portrayal as Gustav – a director clinging to his legacy at the expense of his relationships. It’s amazing how his character manages to be both exasperating and wildly sympathetic, a man whose genius and selfishness are inextricably linked. And Elle Fanning, playing an almost fictionalized version of herself, delivers a performance that feels both relatable and refreshingly layered. She charts a convincing evolution – from an out-of-touch, white American actress to someone willing to set aside ego for the greater purpose of Gustav’s vision. There’s a self-awareness to her vulnerability that makes the role resonate, not to mention that she’s genuinely funny throughout parts of the film. Her presence feels not only fitting, but essential.Together, the ensemble builds a dynamic that feels jagged, intimate, and wholly believable.

Sound, too, plays a crucial role in shaping the film’s environment. Trier often pares down the score, letting, for example, the weight of footsteps in an empty home fill the space. The rare occasions when music swells feel like moments of clarity, carefully included to underscore the emotional landscape rather than to guide it. The result mirrors the film’s thematic core: stripped down, attentive, and deeply human.

What surprised me most was how connective this film feels. At its core, Sentimental Value is about a filmmaker father reentering the lives of his daughters, one of whom is an actress navigating both her craft and her scars. But Trier doesn’t leave us in despair, which I think is what really shocked some viewers. Instead, the direction he takes allows the possibility of change, of healing — a rare and welcome moment in a festival season (and to be fair, calendar year) often dominated by stories that end in devastation. Watching characters put aside their egos and choose repair over destruction is quite profound in today’s cinematic landscape, and I love that! Especially when the movie surrounds the premise of making movies!

The ending (which I won’t spoil) reframes everything that comes before it. It’s tender, earned, and radically moving, reminding us that sometimes the bravest act isn’t tearing things down but finding the strength to rebuild. 

Sentimental Value is more than a film about filmmaking; it’s a tender perspective on what it means to create art while still showing up for, and even rebuilding relationships with, the people that matter most: family. And at TIFF 50, it stands as one of the festival’s most resonant works.