Espen Osmundsen

Espen Osmundsen’s filmography is kind of a wild ride, honestly. First, you’ve got Thelma (2017), this Scandinavian slow-burn that totally messes with your head. Imagine a coming-of-age twist mixed with supernatural vibes, where you’re never really sure if you should be rooting for the main character or just kinda scared of her. The visuals are icy, haunting—absolutely classic Nordic atmosphere. Osmundsen’s touch is everywhere: quiet tension, that sense of something bubbling just under the surface. Then there’s Dreams (Sex Love) (2024), which is totally different. It’s like—raw, vulnerable, messy in the best way. The story dives into the chaos of modern relationships, and it doesn’t sugarcoat anything. People stumble through intimacy, miscommunication, and all the awkward, real stuff nobody wants to admit happens. Osmundsen pulls out some seriously honest performances from the cast. You end up cringing, laughing, maybe tearing up, sometimes all in the same scene. It’s not your run-of-the-mill romance, that’s for sure. And Love (2024), well, that one leans into the bittersweet parts of connection and heartbreak. It’s got this magnetic pull—characters who are flawed and lovable, situations that feel too real, like you’ve lived them yourself. Osmundsen doesn’t go for cheesy sentiment. Instead, he goes deep, exploring the kind of love that sticks with you, scars and all. It’s the stuff people talk about after the credits roll, debating what it all meant, replaying their favorite scenes in their heads.