Markus Lehmusruusu’s film kindles the fires of humanity in a world where it is nearly snuffed out
Finland’s official submission for the Oscars this year is one of the year’s most charming, absurdist, thought-provoking, and quietly subversive science fiction stories. Written and directed by Markus Lehmusruusu, The Squirrel presents a future society that has traded freedom, spontaneity, and emotion for comfort, efficiency, and control. It is a world of minimalist design and sterile environments, where artificial intelligence monitors emotional states, prescribes behavior, regulates diet, and intervenes whenever citizens drift too far from an approved state of equilibrium. Machines clean homes, organize daily life, facilitate communication, and even provide intimate services to maintain hormonal balance. Every aspect of existence has been optimized.
It is a society so committed to order that emotions themselves have become suspect. Displays of intimacy provoke visceral reactions from onlookers conditioned to view such behavior as aberrant. A glimpse of two coworkers engaging in a forbidden sexual relationship demonstrates that beneath the veneer of control, primal human impulses continue to burn. The state’s response is swift and unsettling, with suppression teams, sedating gas dispersal, and mandatory therapy designed to recondition anyone who strays from accepted norms.
The result is a world that feels like a fusion of 1984 (with it’s Thought Police here mirrored by a Hygiene Agency) and our contemporary anxieties about technological dependence. Humanity has cleaned society to such an extent that it has lost its bite, creating a population of docile citizens willingly managed by algorithms and machines whenever they experience “hormonal imbalance.” There is a deeply satirical edge to the film’s vision, skewering both our obsession with control and our increasing willingness to outsource decision-making to technology.
At the center of the story is Pasi (Miro Lopperi), a designer working for SynBio, a company developing synthetic animal companions to replace the living creatures that have largely been purged from society. Seeking inspiration for the next generation of artificial pets, Pasi unexpectedly encounters something believed all but extinct, a living squirrel. Curious and increasingly protective of the injured animal, Pasi brings the squirrel into his apartment despite the legal and social risks involved. In a telling reflection of his society’s conditioning, his first instinct is not to set the creature free but to build it a habitat and keep it contained. Food, safety, comfort, and security are all provided. Yet the squirrel remains unhappy.
The squirrel becomes a microcosm for the human condition in this world. Pasi slowly realizes that comfort alone is not enough. There are needs that cannot be engineered away, instincts that cannot be satisfied through simulation, and freedoms that cannot be replaced by convenience. The squirrel’s captivity mirrors the plight of the society itself. Both have been given everything they are supposed to need, yet something essential is missing. As the squirrel introduces a little natural chaos into Pasi’s meticulously controlled existence, it also rekindles qualities that his society has suppressed, curiosity, creativity, empathy, and a delightful bit of rebellion. The animal enriches his life and even unlocks solutions to the creative challenges he faces at work. More importantly, it awakens something fundamentally human.
Parallel to this is Pasi’s growing relationship with Emilia (Mimosa Willamo), a Hygiene Agency inspector tasked with investigating the damage and disturbances linked to the squirrel. Their interactions are wonderfully awkward. Rather than playing their romance broadly, the film leans into uncertainty and curiosity. Both characters seem fascinated by one another while simultaneously fearing what those feelings might mean. Their delicate dance becomes one of the film’s most endearing elements.
The humor throughout is equally effective, even if it is on the dark and dry side. It emerges from discomfort, social conditioning, and the absurdity of a civilization that has become disconnected from its own humanity. The black humor is sharp without overwhelming the film’s emotional core, giving the entire production an offbeat sensibility that consistently lands.
Lehmusruusu and cinematographer Max Smeds deserve particular praise for the world-building. The production design is sublime. Sets, costumes, props, food, and technology all conform to the temperament of this altered society. The aesthetic often resembles an Apple Store stretched across an entire civilization, resulting in a starkly beautiful vision of the future. Every visual element feels carefully considered and intimately connected to the psychology of the people inhabiting this world.
The film is also remarkably successful in its use of live squirrels. Beyond the obvious logistical challenge, the animal’s unpredictable movements and natural behavior bring an authenticity that a digital creation could never replicate. Those tiny, unscripted moments add warmth, humor, and life to a world otherwise defined by sterility.
While there is certainly an environmental message running through The Squirrel, the film’s concerns feel broader than ecological preservation. More-so, it is a story about self-preservation. It asks what happens when humanity sacrifices curiosity, emotion, risk, and individuality in pursuit of comfort and order. Its answer is chilling. Captivity, regardless of its form, remains captivity, while unnatural environments eventually erode the human spirit.
Despite its dystopian premise, the film is surprisingly hopeful. Markus Lehmusruusu’s The Squirrel kindles those fires of humanity in a world where they have nearly been extinguished. Funny, thoughtful, visually striking, and unexpectedly touching, it is a film that makes you think, makes you nostalgic for the natural world, and perhaps leaves you a little fearful of the path we are currently traveling. For a movie set in such a cold and sterile future, it possesses an immense warmth.
