A Romanian-Norwegian couple are accused of mistreating their children when they move to a small Norwegian village.
Review by Eric Hillis
Directed by: Cristian Mungiu
Starring: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, Lisa Carlehed, Henrikke Lund-Olsen, Vanessa Ceban, Jonathan Ciprian Breazu, Ellen Dorrit Petersen
Romanian writer/director Cristian Mungiu has previously critiqued the authoritarian nature of religion with his films 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days and Beyond the Hills. With his Palme d'Or winning drama Fjord, the shoe is on the other foot. Inspired by a real life case, here it is a religious family who find themselves victims of an authoritarian secular system.
Sebastian Stan gets to perform in his native Romanian as Mihai, who moves his family to his Norwegian wife Lisbet's (Renate Reinsve) home town following the passing of his parents. The family's life in Norway gets off to a promising start. Mihai's pastor arranges a job for him at the village school while Lisbet finds work in a care home for the elderly. Their eldest daughter, teenager Elia (Vanessa Ceban), becomes fast friends with the rebellious Noora (Henrikke Lund-Olsen), daughter of headmaster Mats (Markus Tønseth). Lisbet befriends Mats' wife Mia (Lisa Carlehed), a lawyer who has given up her practice to take care of her ailing father.
There are early indications that the locals aren't as welcoming as they make out. Eyes are rolled when Mihai plays 'Amazing Grace' on a school piano. There are micro-aggressions concerning Mihai's lack of Norwegian fluency. Fjord is something of a reverse Deliverance, with a family of bumpkins targeted by secular sophisticates who disapprove of their "backwards" ways. Things take a mean turn when a bruise Elia receives from some flirty horseplay with Noora causes a teacher to call in child protection services. Accused of physical abuse, Mihai and Lisbet have their five children, even their newborn, whom Lisbet is still breastfeeding, taken into custody. Days turn into weeks as Mihai and Lisbet await a trial, with Mia choosing to represent them.
The Hollywood version of such a story would no doubt feature a syrupy score and much monologuing about individual rights. Mungiu rejects such obviousness, preferring to present this terrible scenario with all its unrefined ethical edges. We are given no evidence of Mihai or Lisbet mistreating their children physically, and their offspring clearly want to return to a home where they appear perfectly happy. And yet we get enough glimpses of Mihai's short temper to raise doubts, but who wouldn't lose their rag in such circumstances? Perhaps tellingly, the one visual indicator of warmth in the film is the glow of Mihai and Lisbet's fire, which stands out against the icy blue aesthetic of cinematographer Tudor Vladimir Panduru.
What is clear is that this isn't simply a case of parents being put on trial but rather a society seeking to make an example of outsiders who don't conform to their standards. During the trial, the snide prosecutor brings up archaic Romanian sayings as a means of painting Mihai as a backwards barbarian who is incompatible with Norway's progressive society. The idea of Scandinavian tolerance is tested.
The hypocrisy of liberal atheists is represented by the loathsome Mats, who constantly disses Mihai's beliefs while clearly controlling the women in his own family in exactly the same manner, if not arguably more forcefully. The only difference between Mihai and Mats is that the latter uses "reason" rather than religion as a method of control. Tønseth's performance is chilling, and you imagine Mats would have been right at home in the USSR.
Looking an awful lot like Arrested Development stars David Cross, Stan gives the latest in a line of compelling recent performances that have seen the Romanian-American actor stretch out after being stuck in the MCU for so long. Stan finds a way to imbue Mihai with enough tenderness to make us feel he loves his family, but there is clearly a concealed anger bubbling under the surface. As Lisbet, Reinsve is at her most angelic, and it is the heartbreak in her eyes, concealed behind unflattering glasses, that goes a long way to making even the most ardent secularist question whether liberal western societies have a right to punish those who haven't quite caught up with their ideals. It is in the figure of Noora, who immediately accepts her new neighbours despite their cultural differences, that the film ultimately offers hope that future generations won't be burdened by such prejudices.
Fjord is in UK/ROI cinemas from November 13th.
