A man documents his struggle with mental illness on a personal audio recorder – until the device captures the final 13 minutes of his life, when he is fatally shot by Norwegian police.
Dimitra Kouzi: Let’s start at the beginning — or perhaps at the end. I was struck by your motivation as a director and producer: what kept you working on the film for five years?
Linn Helene Løken: Five years is a long time — but you don’t experience it that way. You think in six-month blocks. It’s always, ‘just the next six months’, and then another six. You never quite register that it’s going to be five years. At the beginning, my motivation was very clear. I wanted to understand what had happened — to get as close as possible to that exact moment. How could it unfold the way it did? What is truth, really, in situations where people are shot by the police during psychiatric interventions? That question drove me. Then it shifted. It became more about Morten’s voice. When I heard his recordings, they were so vivid, so emotional — he had something to say. I felt a responsibility: if I didn’t tell his story, no one would. His voice might never be heard.
At the same time, I became almost obsessive about getting to the bottom of that moment — trying to carve out some kind of truth from all the different perspectives. Because his death had been treated as almost nothing. A headline one day, gone the next. I wanted to restore him as a whole human being.
Dimitra Kouzi: It’s striking that you stayed with it for that long. Usually a subject alone doesn’t sustain someone for five years. Did you discover a more personal layer — something that kept you going?
Linn Helene Løken: I’m not sure I’m comfortable being that personal. But I do know there is one. It took me about a year into the process to understand it. I think all filmmakers are working through their own psychological themes, whether they admit it or not. I know I am. There’s something in Morten’s story that resonates deeply with me.
Dimitra Kouzi: I’m interested in what sustains an artist through something this demanding — especially a film that is formally quite abstract.
Linn Helene Løken: I do think there’s a connection between the film and my own process. I’ve always lived very much in my head, and it’s taken me years to understand that feelings also exist in the body — that you can listen to the body as well. That’s probably connected to the film more than I realised at the time.
Dimitra Kouzi: You were both director and producer, how did you manage that double role?
Linn Helene Løken: I’m not sure I managed it particularly well. But I don’t know how I could have done it differently. I tried to bring in other producers, but I had such a strong sense of ownership over the story that it was very difficult to let go.
In practice, it’s just switching gears, being in a creative, intuitive mode, and then shifting into an administrative one. That’s the difference.
If I think about my day-to-day life, it was probably seventy per cent producing and thirty per cent directing. The administrative work takes over. But directing is when I feel most alive, when I can rely on intuition, on the body, to sense whether something is right. That’s why I do all the admin: so I can direct.
But I’m not sure it’s quite that easy. When you think about it, it’s all directing, no?
Every idea that pops into your mind, every inspirational experience, every conversation, every dream—it is all part of the process that eventually leads to the film you envision, it’s all part of directing.
Dimitra Kouzi: Did you work on other projects during that time?
Linn Helene Løken: At the beginning, I finished my first feature. I took on some jobs alongside this project, and I made a short film. But for the past two or three years, this has been my only focus.
Dimitra Kouzi: What about your daily process? Did you have a routine?
Linn Helene Løken: For the past two years, I’ve had a morning ritual, movement, and something more spiritual. Over the last year, I trained as a Kundalini yoga instructor, so now I practise every morning. It’s become a significant part of my life.
It gives me something similar to directing — a sense of connection. During the last six months of the process, I was physically exhausted, close to burnout, but mentally and emotionally I felt stable. I think that was because of the ritual. Without it, I don’t think I would have managed.
Dimitra Kouzi: It’s interesting, because throughout the conversation you keep returning to the body — being inside the body, listening through the body, active listening. There’s a strong connection between that and Kundalini yoga.
Linn Helene Løken: That’s true, actually. I’d never thought about it in those terms before. But yes — it’s all connected somehow.
Dimitra Kouzi: What parallels do you see between the practice of kundalini yoga and the filmmaking process?
Linn Helene Løken: Kundalini yoga is the yoga of self initiation. You need great amounts of discipline and devotion to cultivate it and integrate it in your life. The same goes for the creative filmmaking process.
Similarly, kundalini yoga has guidelines and structure, there’s a certain order. Each yoga set has a specific dramaturgy - similar to the dramaturgy of any film. It activates the breath, the body and the voice for a certain outcome. It’s all about the balance of push and pull, when to put energy out, and when to receive. It’s the same with filmmaking. You have to know when to activate your creativity, when to reach out for collaborators, when to push for answers, and when to sit back and relax and let the answers come to you effortlessly.
The structure aids in grounding. What I love about kundalini yoga is that it gives me strength as well as calmness, and a connection to both my inner voice but also something outside of myself.
Dimitra Kouzi: And collaboration? When did others come into the process?
Linn Helene Løken: We were always a very small team. At the beginning, I worked with the cinematographer, Christer Sev, on a more journalistic approach — focusing on multiple cases. But I realised I needed something less journalistic, more artistic, so I brought in another cinematographer, Runar Sørheim, to shift the perspective. Undoubtedly, both cinematographers are equally important.
The editing process changed unexpectedly. I had planned to work with an editor, but due to unexpected circumstances I had to find someone else. It turned out to be a kind of ‘blessing in disguise’ — we had very strong chemistry with Truls Krane Meby and he was the right match for this film. We edited almost the entire film together, sitting side by side, from January to October 2025.
Dimitra Kouzi: You once said you wanted to ‘put the audience inside his body’. When did that idea emerge? Is it connected to your practice?
Linn Helene Løken: When we decided to use Morten’s recordings. I realised the sound would carry the emotional core of the film, so we couldn’t just observe a body — we had to become it, in a way.
I had this early visual idea of making sound visible — seeing sound waves in liquid, thanks to the wonderful sound artist and music professor, Øyvind Brandtsegg.
It was one of the first things we shot. It was part of the same impulse: to get as close as possible to the moment. If you can see sound, perhaps you can feel it more directly.
I come from a podcast background, so I’m used to working with sound. Listening is more empathetic than watching. When you watch, you judge; when you listen, you absorb it bodily. There’s something about active listening that allows things to sink in differently.
Dimitra Kouzi: The film moves between different modes — observational material, reconstructions, and more abstract sequences. How did that structure emerge?
Linn Helene Løken: A lot of it came from limitations. For example, with the police academy, we were allowed to film, but we would have needed written consent from every student — about two hundred people. That wasn’t feasible, so we decided to film only their bodies. That limitation became a creative opportunity.
Similarly, we wanted to include reconstructions. We eventually gained access to interrogation transcripts, but they were very dry — it was difficult to bring them to life. After a long process — about two and a half years — we obtained access to video from the reconstruction of the event. That brought us closer to the physical reality of the moment.
At the same time, I wanted to acknowledge that we can never fully reach the truth. Every narrative is mediated — shaped by perspective. So the structure reflects that: an attempt to get closer, while recognising the limits.
Dimitra Kouzi: There’s also an ethical dimension, particularly your relationship with Morten’s parents. How did you navigate that?
Linn Helene Løken: I met them about a year after his death. We did a long interview, at a time when I thought the film would be more conventional — talking heads.
Over time, we built trust. They gave me access to the recordings without listening to them themselves — it was too difficult. That trust was essential, also legally.
We reached out to everyone involved. Most agreed to participate; some were harder to contact. We made careful decisions — for example, we never disclose his diagnosis, partly out of respect for the parents, but also because it’s not the point.
We still keep in touch. Whenever I’m in Bergen in December, we meet for Christmas lunch. I think that relationship of trust became central to the whole process.
Dimitra Kouzi: Do you hope the film will have an impact on public discourse — particularly around mental healthcare?
Linn Helene Løken: Yes. I hope it encourages a more holistic, recovery-based approach — seeing people as whole individuals rather than a set of diagnoses distributed across different systems.
If you have addiction, you go to one place; if you have mental health issues, another. But that fragments the person. I hope the film can contribute to a broader conversation about that.
Dimitra Kouzi: What was the response so far?
Linn Helene Løken: It was very encouraging. People were deeply engaged — asking questions from many different angles: healthcare, policing, journalism, the family. That range was important. People also shared their own experiences. It felt like the film opened something, which is what I hoped.
Dimitra Kouzi: And now? How do you see the future — both for the film and for yourself?
Linn Helene Løken: I’m meeting with an impact producer, and we’ll begin in Norway. Beyond that, I’m still figuring it out. At the moment, I’m taking it step by step.
Personally, I’m quite tired, to be honest. The other day I thought: I’ve spent five years on this, and in the end it becomes ninety minutes of people’s lives. It’s strange to think about in those terms. But my goal is still simply to remain creative — whatever form that takes.
Watch the trailer HERE
▶ https://vimeo.com/1169279949/f0ebd7b4be
Would you like to know more? Check the Press KIT
How did you collaborate? What was it like working together? Maite: Through research we knew that, in the first stages of Alzheimer, early childhood is remembered. Based on theory, we imagined what would happen to an immigrant with Alzheimer. We hired a journalist who went to all nursing houses in Santiago and sent us a description of some 50 characters. Josebe was one of those. Her memory worked as we imagined, but it was an intense character, with a unique personality, which we would never have written, not even for fiction. She was our guide, which made this co-directing exercise flow with her.