Directed By Christian Mungiu

Starring – Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, Lisa Carlehed

The Plot – Mihai (Stan) and Lisbet (Reinsve) Gheorghiu, a Romanian-Norwegian Pentecostal couple, move with their five children from Romania to Norway after Mihai’s parents die, seeking closeness to Lisbet’s family, who share their faith. Settling in an isolated coastal village, they form a bond with their neighbors, the Halbergs. When their daughter Elia appears at school with bruises, suspicions arise about the family’s strict religious upbringing. The film explores clashing worldviews, conformity, tolerance and the boundaries of freedom and intimacy

This film is currently not rated

Fjord – Official Trailer – In Theaters October 9

POSITIVES

Once in a while, a film comes along that challenges societal norms without providing any simple answers for the sought-after resolution, and with Fjord executing such a complex discussion in its conflicted culture clash between modernity and tradition, the visible line between child punishment and gratuitous abuse becomes blurred by the idea of individual freedoms feeling threatened by state intervention, evoking a slow-burning provocative kind of legal drama that seamlessly stirs debate among its audience. Initiating this kind of angle in these divisive times is nothing short of brilliantly bold for Christian Mungiu, as anyone typically associated with religious devotion or conservative ideals are typically ostracized by one all-encompassing definition driven by media manipulation, however there’s such a refreshing earnestness and sincerity to the overall depiction of the Gheorghiu family here that made it effortlessly easy to comprehend the very loving and providing household that Mihai and Lisbet have made for themselves and their five children, and while all of it goes threatened by a ground-shaking dilemma that rocks their familial foundation, it’s just as easy to comprehend how the children’s services side of the equation is driven by the manifested suspicions from the lack of so much concrete evidence against this family, with Mungiu instead articulating the gaping flaws and audacious realities of a trusted system that automatically assumes what is best for children. Because we are front and center when the incident in question manifests, within the opening twenty minutes of the film, we’re immediately given visual proof in the facts and realities of the circumstance, that other authorities are tragically never blessed with, however the more stimulating component of this fully realized script is in the exploration not only uncovering several jaw-dropping procedures in procuring these children as quick and painlessly as possible, but also the uphill difficulties that parents face in their road to reunited resolution, where every projected image or restrained emotionality in the public eye conveys a deeper sense of purpose to their legal chess match with the state, forcing the audience to grapple with elusive truths and personal biases that deviate away from the black-and-white morality of traditionalized cinema. While this is sadly my first experience with Mungiu cinematically, there’s plenty of commendable aspects about the air of his executed direction that plays poetically towards the meditated approach of his atmospheric crafting, such as the observational pacing of his intoxicatingly icy imagery reveling in the coldly chilling surroundings of the environmental isolation upon his characters. At nearly two-and-a-half hours long, the film will undeniably be an endurance test for impatient audiences lacking cookie cutter answers in revelatory magnitude, however I love that Mungiu tenderly takes his time constructing the conflict that we know is inevitably coming, where much of the movie’s opening act is spent vividly contextualizing the strongly stoic sense of community that allows this family to let its guard down in such unfamiliar surroundings, but even throughout the extent of the rest of the film, Mungiu collaborates with cinematographer Tudor Vladimir Panduru to craft these entrancingly enigmatic long-take, widescreen lens shots that speak volumes to the overwhelming emphasis assembled alongside these troubled characters, leaving nothing to chance with a blustery beautiful kind of frosty presentation that enables snowy peaks and low-hanging cloud cover reflecting the very suffocatingly isolated disposition of its characters, swallowed whole by the immensity and penetratingly piercing quiet terrain of its engulfing valleys. If this isn’t enough, Mungiu also refuses to utilize the disparaging depths of his family’s grief exploitatively with the kind of supercharged emotionally-heavy registries that embellish indulgingly for Oscar’s gold, instead allowing the characters and the audience to sit with the heaviness and inescapability of their predicament, which hits more profoundly with the sound design zeroing in on the haunting quietness that now consumes them. This might sound unappealing to audiences seeking fiery intensity among the combative deliveries of its characters, but Mungiu’s awareness over the magnitude of manifested stakes never loses sight of the eyes and ears that reside alongside Mihai and Lisbet in their publicized fight to reclaim their children, where too much expressiveness could unknowingly paint a preconceived narrative that satisfies that prejudicial masses seeking to make an example out of them, in turn implicating them beyond relief with uncontrollable rage, and while it keeps Fjord from feeling flashy in the exaggerated theatrics of its performances, it does allow Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve to sink so seamlessly into their respectively authentic portrayals, where each of them elicit emotionally restrained performances so mesmerizingly commanding with psychology that they allow us to see the character instead of the actor portraying them. This is especially the case for Stan, who delivers some of his best and most rewarding work to date, internalizing the appropriate intensity of a man who has lost his children in the blink of an eye, and now finds himself communicating that very anger through the smallest gestures and shifts in body posturing, without the reliance upon meandering dialogue to articulate such feelings. Considering Stan himself is about to become a father in real life for the very first time, there’s an added air of instinctual emotional resonance that lingers in wrestling with the helplessness of being constricted systematically, and with some choices to the character’s appearance scrubbing Stan of his superhero sensibilities, we’re finally able to see him for what he can do, rather than who he is, where a spot on the shortlist of Leading actor nominations could certainly be in the cards for him. As for Reinsve, everything exceptional about her portrayal here can easily be summarized by the single uninterrupted sequence of Child Services confronting Lisbet in her home with the news of accusations against her, as well as the proclamation to remove her five children from her care. Because Mungiu allows no escapable means to the bitter pill that is hard to swallow for Lisbet, the uninterrupted take allows us to feel the confusion, pain, anger, and desperation of her overwhelming registry, and with Reinsve’s limitless talents keeping her from telegraphing so many of the film’s most meaningful moments, between Lisbet and her children, she relishes in more of the vulnerability of the couple’s confliction, cementing another meaningful turn in a career quickly filling up with star-making turns.

NEGATIVES

While I commend the script immensely for capturing a variety of complex angles outside of the Gheorghiu family, that allow us to understand their efforts and influence from a community-wide scope, there are some detractive components to its creative outline that leaves slightly more to be desired to its corresponsive layering, particularly one such superfluous B-plot involving the family lawyer’s father, which adds to the runtime crucially without adding much merited value along the way. Cutting this arc alone could probably save the movie around fifteen minutes, which could possibly help maintain the vested interests of those in the audience withering away by Mungiu’s deliberately sauntered storytelling, during its second hour, and while I wholeheartedly understand the meaning of its inclusion, especially when shared by his rebellious progressive granddaughter, I can’t overlook the reality that my interests flatlined whenever these two take control over the storytelling, leaving me wishing for more isolated time alone with Mihai and Lisbet, to grapple with the impacts of their loneliness, or more time devoted to another side of the Gheorghiu family spectrum, which goes painfully underutilized in a movie directly involving them. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m of course talking about the taken children, whose near total ignorance in capture not only leaves the central conflict feeling less grounded, but also leaves the misunderstanding feeling a bit too neatly materialized in directly quieting the source from which it originated from. While Child Service cases can easily manifest in even the smallest inkling of abuse evidence, the miscommunication in the dialogue and language barriers of these characters takes on a life of convenience for a conflict that involves at least one major jump in logic towards remaining at eye level with it, and while some will have no problems believably investing in the building of this conflict, I could’ve used further time and development paid to their perspective, especially considering the emotionality of the child actors fall flat, without the same justifiable reasons as their on-screen parents.

OVERALL
Fjord is a courageously bold and challengingly complex legal drama, that doesn’t believe in easy answers to the navigating of its morally complicated questioning, providing an insightfully alarming and thought-provoking delve into the dangers of preconceived judgments driven by the prejudicial insecurities of those deemed different. While the script occasionally struggles with meaningful focus to the dispensing of its nearly two-and-a-half hour runtime, it’s elevated by the viscerally raw performances from Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve appraising heart and humility to their disoriented characters, driving a provocative introspection on societal tolerance and religious freedom, that is both frustrating and fierce.

My Grade: 8.6 or A-