In the hypothetical case that everyone has the same problems the whole world over, the Swedish series Tore ratifies the hypothesis that even in a country as civilized as Sweden, the problems of the lower abdomen remain to be resolved satisfactorily. Tore is 27 years old and he is confused about his sexuality. He argues with his father, as is to be expected, and watches perplexed as the latter is run over by a garbage truck. If we add to this that he works in the family funeral business, we sense, from the first episode of the six that Netflix offers in its first season, that this is going to be anything but fun. And both Erika Calmeyer, head of direction, and William Spetz, its screenwriter and leading actor, are scrupulously coherent about this.
Linn, Tore’s best friend, tries to help him through his evident depression. Tore’s sexuality becomes clear when he becomes attracted to Erik, a flower shop worker, in such a way that the feeling of pain over his father’s death is intertwined with carnal desire. Apparently there is nothing better to overcome grief and depression than going crazy in a nightclub and if, in addition, you experience for the first time the delusions produced by lysergic acid diethylamide, oblivion is guaranteed. Sex, drugs and disco music abound in a series which, in essence, talks about the difficulties, real or imaginary, of personal relationships, of that world that demonstrates the constant clumsiness of human beings when it comes to enjoying natural pleasure, which Emil Cioran defined as the union of two slimes, something physiologically evident and mentally so complex. It’s life, stupid!
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