The week's other Swedish movie is a disconcerting study in evasiveness. A man named Krister (Olle Sarri) wakes up on his bathroom floor covered in blood, and, willing himself not to investigate, goes to work: he's a driving instructor, though his volatile temper suggests you wouldn't want to be in a car with him.
The writer-director Jesper Ganslandt follows him through the day – a game of tennis, a visit to the dump – offering hints and clues as to the unspoken thing Krister has done. The bloodied clothing and his air of imminent nausea indicate it's something terrible, but the film shields its hand throughout. It's a distant cousin of Laurent Cantet's Time Out.