Junk Mail

There are people who make things happen. There are others who don't. Roy's a don't. His instinct is to lay low, keep watching. He's a loner, a skiver, an Oslo postman. A bit of a voyeur. Every once in a while, to the suprise of his workmates, Roy is spurred into action.

Pal Sletaune's debut chronicles one such moment, when self-deluded infatuation for a deaf dry-cleaning assistant makes him do things he wouldn't dare think about normally. She is on his route and one day, by chance, he comes across the keys to her apartment, sticking out of her post box. Knowing she's away, he takes a peek upstairs and discovers, to his surprise, evidence involving her in a crime. He is intrigued and feels strangely protective towards her.

Norway is the least likely place on earth to find a comedy thriller of this quality. Robert Skjaestad (Roy) manages to be gormless and sympathetic simultaneously and, as things progress, the look of fear in his eyes is tangible. Such acting is a rare delight - funny, tragic, intensely human. The film has an originality, without being remotely pretentious, that tickles the soles of your dreams.