Directed by Joachim Trier, this Oscar-nominated dramedy is the third in his “Oslo Trilogy,” but you don’t need to have seen the others to feel its sting of recognition. Julie (Renate Reinsve, in a star-making performance) is a med student who switches to psychology, then falls in love with photography, then mostly just falls. She drifts from one pursuit to the next, from one man to another, not out of malice but out of a desperate, very modern search for a life that feels entirely her own.

In the end, The Worst Person in the World earns its title ironically. Julie is not the worst person. She’s one of the most honest. The film’s quiet genius is showing that being “the worst” often just means failing to be who others need you to be while you’re still figuring out who you are. It’s a messy, tender, funny, and ultimately hopeful portrait of a person in flux. And in that mess, most of us will see a little of ourselves.

The film is structured in twelve chapters, plus a prologue and an epilogue—a playful, literary device that gives weight to fleeting moments. We watch her with Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie), a successful graphic novelist in his forties who wants a child and a settled home. Julie loves him, but she’s not ready. Then she crashes a party and meets Eivind (Herbert Nordrum), a handsome, gentle barista. Nothing “happens” that night—except they almost kiss, almost touch, almost betray their partners in a breathless, extended montage of near-infidelity. It’s more erotic than most sex scenes.

Here’s a draft text on The Worst Person in the World , written in a reflective, essay-like style. You can adapt it for a review, analysis, or personal recommendation. The Worst Person in the World : A Beautiful Mess of Becoming

At first glance, the title The Worst Person in the World feels like a provocation. Surely, we think, this film isn’t about a murderer or a tyrant. And it isn’t. It’s about Julie, a young woman in Oslo drifting through her late twenties, and the worst thing she’s guilty of is being uncertain.

“The Worst Person in the World” isn’t about a villain—it’s about every person who’s ever been afraid of choosing the wrong life. Essential viewing for the anxious and the young at heart.

Where the film breaks convention is in its refusal to judge. Julie breaks Aksel’s heart, leaves him as his life begins to unravel (including a devastating cancer diagnosis), and rushes into a new relationship that also feels, eventually, like a cage. She is not cruel. She is lost. And Trier shoots her lostness with the gravity of a tragedy and the lightness of a screwball comedy. One magical-realist sequence—where the entire world freezes so Julie can run through Oslo’s streets to be with Eivind—is pure cinematic wish-fulfillment. It captures the fantasy of escaping the consequences of your choices.

The central question of the film isn’t “Is Julie a bad person?” It’s “Why do we expect young people—especially young women—to have all the answers by thirty?” Aksel, for all his warmth, represents a older generation’s certainty: a stable job, a fixed identity, a timeline. Julie represents the terrifying luxury and burden of too many options. She wants to be a photographer, a writer, a lover, a free spirit, a mother—just not yet.