Something that we don’t often talk about when it comes to film is how art can be a form of therapy. Most of the time, we view cinema as either pure entertainment, or attempts to convey a particular message around some broader social or political message. However, there are instances when someone makes a film that exists solely to be an opportunity for them to work through a personal challenge. One of the more fascinating recent examples of such a phenomenon comes in the form of Run Uje Run (Swedish: Spring Uje Spring), a curious little musical comedy written by Swedish experimental musician Uje Brandelius, who bases this film around his own life. Working with Henrik Schyffert, an esteemed comedian who is making his directorial debut, Brandelius tells the autobiographical story of his recent diagnosis with Parkinson’s Disease, which is slowly overtaking his body and causing him to lose many of his vital functions. At this stage, the disease had not progressed too far, which is part of the film’s narrative, as we follow the titular character as he comes to terms with this diagnosis, while intending to conceal the truth from his family, who he feels will only be negatively impacted, psychologically and emotionally, with such a troubling change to their lives. Constructed through a variety of small components that work together to tell the main character’s story, Run Uje Run is a powerful and insightful comedy that never takes itself too seriously, despite the grave subject matter.

From the first moment, it’s made abundantly clear that Run Uje Run is a deeply personal work – it is structured as a very charming comedy, but we can immediately sense that this is a film in which Brandelius is working through his own issues. Art affords the creator the chance to process a wide range of emotions and channel them into the form of something positive, and there is a sincere feeling of catharsis exuding from this film. Whatever motivated Brandelius to tell this story, particularly in the format in which it is presented here, is unknown – but what is definitely made abundantly clear is his fervent dedication to venturing deep within his soul, and providing us with insights into his personal journey, which is the subject of one of the year’s most wonderful and eccentric films, a deft combination of two of Brandelius’ biggest passions – music and comedy – which work together in tandem to evoke the deepest and profound emotions imaginable. He is pursuing something so deeply moving with this story, allowing us into his life as we accompany him on this laborious exercise to work through his inner quandaries, all formed around a truly delightful and often very funny depiction of an ordinary man who finds himself perpetually questioning his existence after learning of a disease that will change his placid life – and through embracing the absurdity of such a situation and filtering it through his own unique worldview, Brandelius works with Schyffert to make this achingly funny ode to the complete unknown.

There’s a particular kind of bravery that comes with being as honest as Brandelius was with Run Uje Run, and that is in large part a result of the film’s structure, which is formed as if it were a narrative work of fiction. Had this film been a documentary, or more explicitly rooted in an authentic depiction of the titular individual’s journey in the early stages of his diagnosis, it’s not like it would’ve been able to be as effective, since there is a tendency for non-fiction films about illness to avoid the lighter side, most of the emphasis being placed on the actual illness rather than the fact that many of these people undergo a variety of emotional experiences, with only a few distinct examples that prove to be the exemption rather than the rule. Humour is a tool often used for healing, and while this film may not be outrageously funny for the most part (although there are several hilarious moments, such as an unforgettable montage set to the titular song “Spring Uje Spring”, where the main character tries many different forms of self-expression as a way of working through his problems), there’s a precise and direct sense of honest comedy that is present throughout. It boosts the film and makes it quite a special story, plucked directly from reality and told with the conviction of someone who genuinely and unequivocally believes in his vision. There’s a joyfulness that comes in seeing someone so beautifully embrace the more abstract side of their existence, especially when they’re revealing details of their life that help us see that there is always a silver lining lurking behind every challenging situation.

Constantly pushing the boundaries of his own personal story, Brandelius works with a group of like-minded individuals in telling of his challenges during the early days of his diagnosis. Run Uje Run is a true family affair, the lead actor’s own wife and children appearing in the film, and bringing their own genuine perspective to a film that simply would not have worked without them. Caught somewhere between fiction and reality, narrative feature and documentary, this film continuously provokes some deep conversations through its off-kilter execution. Brandelius is certainly not an ordinary artist, so it would only make sense that his autobiography would not only take the form of a film, but one that doesn’t adhere to the rules. It ventures in numerous different directions, and it is sometimes quite difficult to put a saddle on the sheer madness that pervades this film. However, it is all for the sake of the subject’s insistence that he is worthy of taking up this small but notable amount of space, his story being one that may not be particularly tragic in comparison to other similarly-themed films, but one that is still worth telling, especially in how he aims to reveal the realities of such a diagnosis. Solely based on the general intentions of the film, the story central to Run Uje Run can be a bitter pill to swallow – so how better to experience such a challenging narrative than through a film centred on celebrating life, rather than anticipating the loss of one’s livelihood? It’s a beautiful and profound message that is layered under an endless stream of irreverent commentary unique to this lovable film.

Run Uje Run is a revelation – a film that shouldn’t exist, but which is so beautifully made, it’s a miracle that we were able to see it. Brandelius is generous enough to share such a personal document with us, and the candour with which he tells this story is absolutely incredible. He demonstrates how, regardless of the ailment or challenge, there is nothing that can’t be overcome with the right mindset and the resourcefulness to look beyond the immediate circumstance. There is a bright side to absolutely every situation, granted someone is willing enough to embrace the fact that life is unpredictable. If there is one message that Brandelius makes sure to convey, it’s that there is always value in expecting the unexpected, and just surrendering to the unknown, without actually giving up. Run Uje Run is a film about fighting battles, but one that you know you can never conquer. Frequently throughout the film, the main character is told that there isn’t a cure for this disease, and finds himself immersed in media that tells him of the numerous challenges he is going to face for the rest of his life as he comes to terms with living with this progressive illness that is slowly going to erode his passion for life. Yet, it’s always so optimistic, and authentically so – there isn’t false hope anywhere in this film, but rather a sense of prioritizing the discussion of survival, not necessarily physical, but the mental fortitude needed to make the best of any situation, which is the central message at the heart of Run Uje Run, a lovable and endearing comedy about serious matters that manages to be more profound than most similarly-themed films.