My initial exposure to the film The Cake General came through an article in a popular evening tabloid. The focus was on Robert Gustafsson’s withdrawal from Filip Hammar and Fredrik Wikingsson’s feature film debut, reportedly due to his assessment that the script was subpar. A subsequent search led me to Aftonbladet’s review of the source material, which described the book as insubstantial and lacking depth. The subsequent casting of Mikael Persbrandt and Helena Bergström further tempered my expectations, as they are frequently cast actors in Swedish cinema. I found myself thinking, “Time for something new,” and initially dismissed the film as another potentially uninspired Swedish production. However, upon receiving an invitation to the press screening, I decided to attend, despite my initial reservations.
Hasse P (Mikael Persbrandt) is a local personality in Köping, known for his constant stream of ambitious, often outlandish projects. These range from year-round crayfish restaurants to bouncing shoes. Struggling with alcohol and his intermittent relationship with Dyr-Gunilla (Helena Bergström), he leads a life marked by excess. Set in 1985, the film depicts Köping’s designation as Sweden’s most boring city by Jan Guillou on Rekordmagasinet, a prime-time television program. In response to the nationwide ridicule, Hasse P resolves to restore Köping’s self-esteem and prominence by constructing the world’s longest sandwich cake. He enlists the help of Åsa Sjöman (Agnes Lindström Bolmgren), a pastry chef, and her family. This marks the beginning of a surreal narrative centered around a visionary and based on true events.
In all honesty, I can say I was profoundly surprised by The Cake General, exceeding my initial expectations. The film’s opening establishes its tone effectively, and the introduction of Hasse P is particularly well-executed. The narrative expands to encompass not only Hasse P’s story but also that of the film’s director and screenwriter, Filip Hammar, portrayed as a young man. This brings to light a key issue: the relative lack of readily available information regarding the film’s cast beyond the established names. Despite searching on IMDB, which offers a more complete list, information remains scarce compared to Svensk Filmdatabas. The failure to comprehensively update cast information reflects either a significant oversight or a lack of consideration for the actors involved. (Update March 16: As of March 8th, when this review was initially released, this was the case. IMDB has since been updated with complete cast and crew details. However, Svensk Filmdatabas has not yet been updated.)
Regardless, the actor portraying the young Filip delivers a compelling performance, particularly in his interactions with Jens Ohlin, who plays Filip’s father, Lars Hammar. Ohlin’s portrayal of the awkward and unconventional father is exceptionally poignant. The story of Hasse P and the sandwich cake profoundly shapes Filip’s life.
Agnes Lindström Bolmgren portrays Åsa, the pastry chef who embraces Hasse P’s ambitious cake vision. Her brother is played by an actor whose name is, regrettably, difficult to ascertain through conventional channels. Nevertheless, his performance is commendable. Bolmgren, in her first role following drama school, makes a notable impression, delivering a well-balanced portrayal. Thomas Von Brömssen delivers a masterful performance as Åsa’s father, and his scenes with Agnes are remarkably effective. One particular scene involving an inflatable clothes hanger is especially powerful.
Cecilia Frode embodies Hasse P’s childhood friend, Ulrika, with such skill that she is almost unrecognizable. Helena Bergström, a ubiquitous presence in Swedish film, often maintains a consistent persona across roles. However, in this instance, her portrayal of Dyr-Gunilla is exceptionally fitting and forms a crucial element of the film. Dyr-Gunilla’s character is integral to Hasse P’s identity.
Mikael Persbrandt, like Helena Bergström, possesses a well-defined public image. However, in the role of Hasse P, he reveals a previously unseen dimension. The “Gunvald” persona is absent; instead, we are presented with a nuanced portrayal of Hasse P in all his complexity.
Beyond the performances, the film exhibits impressive cinematography and editing. A fantasy sequence mid-film underscores this quality. The film prioritizes entertainment, eliciting both laughter and tears. This emotional resonance was unexpected in a Swedish film. Fredrik and Filip’s direction is assured, with a slightly stylized approach that enhances the narrative. The accurate depiction of 1985 provides a visually compelling backdrop.
Are there any shortcomings? Only one minor issue detracted slightly from the experience: Filip Hammar’s narration. While the framing device of learning about Köping’s residents through his perspective is effective, the narration itself feels somewhat disjointed and occasionally pulls the viewer out of the film.
The Cake General is a cinematic experience that revitalized my faith in Swedish film. Aside from the minor issue of the narration, it is a near-perfect production.
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