At a time when government policies seem to keep showing contempt for the elderly and the disabled, a film like Filip Hammar and Frederik Wikingsson's The Last Journey is an absolute breath of fresh air. This Swedish documentary, which was last year's official entry for the country at the Oscars, has arrived at the perfect moment to restore spirits, invoke a greater sense of empathy in audiences, and just bring a huge smile to your face.

In 2022, Swedish TV personality and comedian Filip Hammar, found himself despairing at his father Lars' situation. Having been knocked down by illnesses and the frailties that come with getting older, the once vibrant and lively Lars had become a shell of himself, depressed and barely leaving the house. In a bid to restore his father to his former glory, Hammar enlisted the help of his best friend/the other half of his TV duo Filip och Fredrik, Frederik Wikingsson, to take his father on a road trip. The Last Journey documents this trip from König to Beaulieu-sur-Mer in France, where the family regular holidayed in Filip's youth, in the same make, model, and colour of car in which they used to make the journey.

Early on in the documentary, Filip says something akin to Gatsby's impassioned claim in the classic novel: that not only is it okay to try and recreate the past, but it should be encouraged. This fixation on glory days and nostalgia is something that shapes the entire narrative of the documentary. It is something that often feels trite and forced, as the pair try and recreate moments from Hammar's past in increasingly ridiculous ways. Whether it's forcing Lars to tell a joke at a specific time so that a train can interrupt before the punchline, or Frederik (being a wonderful example of ride or die friendship) even going as far as to hire actors to stage a fight between drivers on the street. However, as misguided as the methods may be, The Last Journey is rooted in Hammar's deep-rooted love for his father, and it makes all of it, even the missteps, feel like an honourable feat.

And with Hammar's love for Lars, ours is so easily won too. It helps that Lars is such an affable character, and his gentle and compassionate nature is incredibly affecting. Early on, he tells the story of his ‘greatest sin,' in which he swore at a taxi driver when he was a young man. The fact that this is his greatest shame says so much about Lars, and we, like Filip, can't help but revel in the moments that we get to see the light return to his eyes. And we do get to see it, time and time again. As Lars returns to France, a land that represents freedom to him, we see him both mourn the freedom of youth, while finding a joy that he had long decided was no longer for him.

It's a powerful musing on growing old, but also how we as children respond to seeing our parents like that. Lars is never presented as a burden to Filip; the motivation of the storyteller and the narrative itself never even dips into the consideration. The story told is not only one of Lars realising that he still has more to give, but also of Filip learning to accept that in growing old, his father is not the man he once was, and that's okay. In the final scene, this is perfectly realised, as Filip, having spent the whole film trying to help his father hold a wine glass and drink ‘normally,' gifts him some metal straws, so that he can still participate, but within his new limited capacity.

The Last Journey has its flaws, and as a documentary, doesn't offer anything new to the form. But, this doesn't matter, because the story is so deeply personal, and yet presented in a universal way. We are invited into Lars and Filip's relationship, and encouraged to empathise with it in a way that serves as a reminder to check in on the elderly relatives in our lives.

The Last Journey is in selected UK cinemas now