The avalanche of cringe in 'Force Majeur'

When a crisis hits, it's hard to say how any of us will react. Tomas (Johannes Bah Kuhnke), a handsome alpha-male type, has managed to drag himself away from work to join his family on a skiing trip in the French Alps. The first day of the holiday passes without incident, but on the second, their lunch at an outdoor terrace restaurant is interrupted when a controlled avalanche starts further up the slopes. Tomas begins to film it on his smartphone, casually reassuring his concerned son that the situation is under control. But as the advancing cloud of snow threatens to engulf them, Tomas dashes from the table — leaving his kids and wife Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) behind.

The repercussions of this ignoble act are explored with remorseless scrutiny in "Force Majeure" (originally released as "Turist"), a wickedly compelling drama from Swedish director Ruben Ostlund.

Nursing his bruised pride, Tomas makes the mistake of questioning Ebba's version of events and attempts to deny any wrongdoing. She responds, understandably, by pushing him away, and before long the children are fretting that their parents might split up. For Ebba, it's the viability of their family that's on trial; for Tomas, it's his masculinity.

The austere camerawork and methodical dissection of human foibles in Ostlund's previous film, "Play" (2011), marked him as a disciple of Austrian heavyweight Michael Haneke; it depicted racist bullying among preteen boys with the emotional detachment of a nature documentary. "Force Majeure" isn't quite so clinical; there's more warmth and humor here, often of the squirm-inducing kind. It's a drama that's best watched through your fingers.

When Ebba first confronts Tomas about his actions, it's during a boozy dinner with another couple, who sit there with forced smiles as the they conduct a heated back-and-forth in sotto voce Swedish. Later on, he's forced to watch his own smartphone recording of the incident — again, in front of others — and the effect is withering. Ostlund has particular fun showing the married couple performing their daily ablutions in the bathroom, with every rejected kiss and cuddle captured in the mirror with scientific precision.

Rather than focusing on Tomas' point of view, Ostlund, who also wrote the screenplay, is equally interested in the family. When another couple, Mats ("Game of Thrones" regular Kristofer Hivju) and Fanni (Fanni Metelius), turns up, we see how the dilemma infects their relationship, too.

The film is constantly alert to these differences in perspective — it thrives on them. Some of the most telling moments are the ones that seem throwaway, especially scenes in which the protagonists brushes up against strangers — a couple on a ski lift, some girls at a bar — and there's a brief testiness and friction. Even at their most introspective, these characters aren't permitted to exist in isolation.

Ostlund amplifies the sense of alienation by intercutting the human drama with images of the ski resort and the avalanche release cannons detonating around the valley at night. He employs the snow-damped hush of the slopes to discomfiting, claustrophobic effect, though the most arresting use of sound comes during a bacchanalian nightclub scene, where we hear the roars of the male revelers (topless, beer-drenched, puking) but not the music.

If the humiliations inflicted on Tomas can border on the sadistic at times, there's a sense that Ostlund really feels for his characters too: "Force Majeure" never indulges in the outright nastiness of vintage Haneke. By the film's denouement, it's clear that "Force Majeure" isn't out to mock its protagonists — it's content simply to stand back and watch them with interest when they stumble.