Sebastian Stan Fends Off a Witch Hunt in His New Movie Rooted in Real-Life Hate | Review

When you think of Norway, you're probably imagining beautiful vistas, aquamarine glacial waters, and a population of people who seem to have a happier and better quality of life than most people in the U.S. Pop culture-wise, the Scandinavian countries have been somewhat touted as a utopia. No one really seems to be suffering, the prisons look like hotels, and it's the land of Ikea and hygge vibes. However, Cristian Mungiu's Fjord unearths a particular brand of nastiness within this culture and highlights it through the lens of a Romanian-Norwegian family who has recently moved to a small town and faces a surprising amount of prejudice.

'Fjord' Sheds Light on Extremism in a Brand New Way

There's an overwhelming number of movies about the fundamentalism of religion out there. From stories about cults to ones about major organized religion, there's a font of content out there reminding us just how crazy people can become when they have faith backing their motives. However, in Fjord, Mungiu reveals that that level of extremism exists not only on one side of the spectrum but also on the other. Unlike many of its Southern neighbors who remain fiercely Catholic, Norway is not religious. In fact, they have hate crime laws that punish people for disrespecting any and all religious beliefs (including non-religious ones), and wearing religious clothing like burqas or niqabs are prohibited completely in schools.

This prejudice against religion is made fully clear when we first meet the Gheorghiu family. Mihai (Sebastian Stan), a Romanian native, has moved his family to his wife Lisbet's (Renate Reinsve) hometown in Norway. The little village Lisbet hails from is nestled in the mountains and is a place where everyone knows everyone. Mihai, a former aeronautical engineer from Bucharest, gets an IT job, while Lisbet works in a hospice center. Their neighbors are the Halbergs. Mats (Markus Tønseth) is the headmaster of the local school, and his wife, Mia (Lisa Carlehed), is a former lawyer. His daughter, Noora (Henrikke Lund-Olsen), is around the same age as the Gheorghiu kids, and she quickly befriends them.

Mihai and Lisbet have a whopping five kids and keep to a relatively religiously conservative lifestyle. Their kids aren't allowed cellphones, no video games, no home internet, and they spend their free time studying the bible or playing religious music. For most, this might be a little weird but nothing that dramatic. But for the people of this little village, it instantly renders Mihai as suspicious. There's already an undercurrent of xenophobia present because of his Romanian heritage, but his fierce devotion to his faith makes people even more untrustworthy.

'Fjord' Highlights Hypocrisy With Legal Drama

This suspiciousness reaches an all-time high when one of Mihai's daughters, Elia (Vanessa Ceban), comes to school with a bruise on her neck. The teachers immediately get involved, assuming the worst thanks to their existing prejudice against the family's beliefs. Without hesitation, the police and child protective services get involved, not allowing Mihai or Lisbet to explain what is going on, much less prove that the bruises weren't inflicted at home.

This sort of witch hunt shows the perfect hypocrisy of extremism. Even when conservative values are viewed as harmful, the officials and people of the town don't hesitate at all in being prejudiced against the family for their religion. The judge, the lawyers, and their neighbors all see the family not only as weird but as a legitimate threat to their way of life. Aside from playing some "Amazing Grace" on the public piano and offering to pray for a grieving family member, it's clear to the audience that there's nothing really wrong with the Gheorghius. Worse, even, the system seems deliberately determined to not only keep them apart from their kids but send them to prison for the equivalent of a spanking.

Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve Steal the Show in 'Fjord'

At the center of all of this is Stan and Reinsve. Reuniting for the first time since A Different Man, Stan and Reinsve both give restrained but emotional performances. Stan demonstrates his language skill by speaking primarily in Romanian or in English with a Romanian accent. It's uncharted territory for Stan, who holds his own against a primarily Norwegian-speaking cast. Mihai is a very restrained and religious man, but Stan never makes us doubt that he's a good father. His faith might border on zealotry, but there's no foul play here.

Reinsve, who consistently delivers stand-out performances, falls a bit more into a supporting role. Her best moments are either across from Stan or Carlehed's Mia, who steps in as the parents' lawyer when their first one quits. In fact, the dynamic between Stan, Carlehed, and Reinsve during the court scenes causes a fantastic amount of tension. Mia systematically tries to reveal the hypocrisy and religious persecution that this family is suffering from while Mihai and Lisbet must watch from the sidelines, hoping that her argument will have enough weight to free them of the unjust accusations.

Both written and directed by Mungiu, Fjord is highly reminiscent of Anatomy of a Fall, as it places a prejudiced system against defendants who are on trial for simply being themselves. It's when Mungiu lays it all out, when the prosecutor is making snide or mocking comments to the family, that it hits the hardest how much this couple have to overcome to live their lives. However, coming in at 146 minutes, the film drags when it moves away from the main storyline. There's a subplot involving Elia and Noora potentially falling in love, and another storyline involves Mats' old father that essentially feels like filler. The film could have benefited from some tighter editing, especially as there is already so much to take in with the trial, but by offering a new perspective on a familiar concept, Mungiu still lands a win with Fjord.