My Blueberry Nights

So last night I sat down with My Blueberry Nights, a film by Wong Kar-wai. Now, we’re talking a director who’s known for poetic visuals, and this film’s got more eye candy than a konditori in Stockholm. You’ve got Norah Jones making her acting debut. Surprisingly, she can do more than croon mesmerizing tunes. And then there’s Jude Law, whose English charm just makes you wanna slap a Union Jack on everything, talking all dreamy with syrupy lines.

Now, you might raise an eyebrow at his American accent—like, come on Jude, you’re fooling no one! But it kinda works, maybe because he’s serving blueberry pie in a diner that feels like a cat’s favorite windowsill, drenched in blues and purples, comfortably frayed fabric.

Remember consuming endless blueberry pie at dear Aunt Siv’s while complaining about Swedish weather that refuses to make up its mind? That’s how the film feels, bittersweet but oddly comforting. The plot’s about love and loneliness, a road trip waiting to find itself along the way. It’s clumsy but soft, like when you say hejhej twice to a friend to fill a silence.

And oh, let’s not forget Natalie Portman. She’s a poker player here, and seeing her, I couldn’t help but remember that cold evening in Gothenburg when I realized I’d lost my wallet at The Post Hotel. She’s slick, unpredictable—like Swedish weather, surprise, surprise.

The film’s pace is like a leisurely fika, too slow for some but perfect if you don’t mind everything unfolding like autumn leaves. Does it get sappy? A smidgen, sure. But maybe it’s just the kind of soulful escapism we crave when life feels like Sveriges grå ullhimmel.

In the end, My Blueberry Nights is a tender hodgepodge—part travelogue, part heartache. It’s a bit like if you were to pair a jazz concert in the park with a fresh pastry from Vete-Katten. Not every part is flawless, but together it makes for quite a memorable jaunt.

Check the trailer below