On Joachim Trier's "The Worst Person in the World"

What to make of the long sequence in Joachim Trier’s The Worst Person in the World (2021), in which Julie is the only person who moves, while everyone else is frozen in a still? To me, it’s a way of showing the obsessive nature of romantic love. Julie and Eivind are so absorbed in each other, it’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t register. They see only each other. All else is oblivion. 

Anthony Lane, in his excellent review of The Worst Person in the World (“Living for the City,” The New Yorker, February 14 & 21, 2022), puts it this way:

Or what about the instant at which the surrounding world—humans, vehicles, dogs, the flow of coffee from a pot—freezes in mid-action, allowing Julie, the solitary mover, to run through the motionless streets toward Eivind, whom she badly needs to embrace? How better to illustrate the ecstatic indifference with which, in the throes of a silly love, we obscure everything that is not our object of desire?