In Sentimental Value, director Joachim Trier delivers an emotionally layered and deeply poignant look at family, memory, and artistic identity. But helping to shape that delicate balance of humor and heartbreak is editor Olivier Bugge Coutté, a longtime Trier collaborator whose patience and instinct give the film its rhythm and emotional punch. I spoke with Coutté about what it was like to craft the film’s structure, how he balanced navigating tonal shifts between trauma and comedy, and capturing the right tone within this deeply human story.
What is it about Joachim Trier that makes him such a strong collaborator and storyteller?
I think he’s unique in several ways. From a storytelling perspective, he has a very distinct ability to stay close to character, especially within psychological drama. He finds emotional truths that feel intimate and authentic. At the same time, he wants to tell those stories in a visually and artistically engaging way. His films aren’t just dialogue-driven. They have dynamic montages, surprising humor, strong performances, and striking visual compositions. He’s thematically rigorous but also very cinematic.
You can’t make his films as a radio play. You have to see them.
How much footage did you ultimately have to work with?
We shot for 65 days, which is a lot by Scandinavian standards. A typical feature here might shoot for 40 days. So this was almost like one and a half films compressed into one.
In total, we had around 75 to 80 hours of material. The first cut was three and a half hours long. The final film runs about two hours without credits. On IMDb it might say two hours and eight minutes, but that includes about eight minutes of credits.
The film feels incredibly well-paced. Many films today run longer than they should, but this never does. Were there scenes you fought to keep in or on the flip side, scenes you wish had stayed?
It’s always a collaboration. There are small disagreements here and there, but Joachim is the director, so he has the final word. That said, we agreed on about 98 percent of the film. The disagreements were minor like should a scene end a little earlier, should we keep a small button at the end, things like that.
Once we finish editing, I honestly can’t remember who suggested what. We become so interwoven in the process that authorship blurs. There isn’t a major scene I feel was wrongly removed or wrongly kept. The structure evolved, scenes changed, but it was always in service of the same vision.
One of the most delicate aspects was balancing humor and drama. The script contains a lot of humor, and that’s essential. If the drama becomes too heavy, especially with themes like suicide and family trauma, audiences can emotionally shut down. But if there’s too much humor, you weaken the emotional weight.
It’s like music. You can’t explain exactly when the guitar solo should arrive. You just feel it.
How do you approach the initial assembly, especially with such a complex emotional balance?
An older editor once told me something very strategic: always cut the script version first. Lay out the film exactly as written. That way, you understand the original intention before you start restructuring.
If you begin changing things too early, you can lose track of what the story was meant to communicate. Having that original blueprint gives you something to return to.
This film is a four-character drama. In a multi-character story like this, it’s a zero-sum game. If you add more emotional focus to one character, you inevitably take it away from another. There’s only so much psychological space for the audience to invest in.
For example, there’s a scene where Nora and her father, Gustav, share a cigarette during a birthday party. In the final film, it’s just three cuts between them. You see they still care about each other. Originally, it was a full dialogue scene that began with Gustav flirting with his other daughter’s mother-in-law while she was washing dishes. We cut all of that.
At that moment, we didn’t need humor. We needed intimacy.
What are the challenges of structuring a non-linear story with multiple timelines and backstory?
The montages and voiceover sequences are crucial. The trick is that they aren’t purely exposition. They always contain humor, music, and movement. They function almost like short music videos.
In one montage, you might move from suicide, to childhood memories, to an awkward sexual moment, to death again. It shifts between pain and laughter with music carrying you through. That rhythm keeps the audience engaged.
If it were just a dry voiceover explaining backstory, you would lose people very quickly.
You live with the material as long as anyone. What is your personal favorite moment in the film?
It changes over time, especially because I remember the struggles behind certain scenes. Even when they work beautifully, I still feel the effort that went into shaping them.
But I love the stage fright opening sequence. Thematically, it immediately establishes her identity as an actress and the cost of that life. It moves between onstage and backstage, music rising and falling, people laughing while she’s emotionally unraveling. It’s funny, painful, and kinetic all at once.
I also love the scenes between Gustav and Elle. There’s something fascinating about how he subtly pressures her to become a version of his daughter. When you peel back the layers, you realize how much emotional weight he’s placing on her.
And the scene between the sisters when the script is finally revealed—that’s devastating. The performances there are extraordinary.
Sentimental Value Trailer:
