The tag that’s stuck assiduously to Roy Andersson since it was first applied to him is ‘the slapstick Bergman’ and it’s not wildly inaccurate. There’s an undeniable existentialist bent to his post-millennial trilogy of films, of which A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Contemplating Existence is the final part, and is, as the opening title tells us, ‘the final part of a trilogy about being a human being’. But this also rather sells Andersson short. ‘Slapstick’ undersells the deftness (if not the daftness) of his black humour, and its warmth.