Even with the breadth of releases that I’ve gotten so far on
this blog, today is going to mark not only a first in terms of reviewing but
also a personal first. Today's subject marks the first Norwegian film I have ever watched
(that I’m aware of), not just the first that I’ve reviewed. Something I’m
learning quickly from the prevalence of Indian cinema at my local is that, like
a lot of other things, I rely on what I watch when it comes to understanding
other cultures.
Some are easier to grasp than others: The American monopoly
means that there are a lot of facets of the U.S. that get shown on screen, the
occasional British releases have given a better insight into my country’s sovereign
nation, and even the increasingly-rare Aussie productions provide a snapshot of
my home outside of my suburban domicile. Beyond that, I’m pretty in the dark
and no less so than when it comes to Norway. I mean, my extent of the country’s
societal trappings comes from Where To Invade Next, and while I would make a
joke about how Michael Moore isn’t exactly the most objective viewpoint to
adhere to, I’m still trying to comprehend the workings of their prison system
as shown in that film.
Basically, if this review sounds like an ill-informed
foreigner trying to understand a given culture, it’s only because it is.
The plot: In April of 1940, German forces are poised to
occupy Norway. King Haakon VII (Jesper Christensen) and his family evacuate
their palace and, between himself, German liaison Curt Bräuer (Karl Markovics)
and various other political figures, try and figure out how to resolve this
conflict with the least bloodshed possible. However, with the mass confusion
going on over the proceeding few days, that task may prove even more difficult
than first thought.
Christensen, who we last checked in with as one of the
better parts of the otherwise disappointing Spectre, is absolutely incredible
as the King. Between his interactions with his family, including the
unfathomably warm and comforting conversations he has with his grandson Prince
Harald, his attitude concerning the approaching German forces and his connection to Norway, he gets
across pretty much everything one would expect from such a role. Same goes for Anders
Baasmo Christiansen as his son Olav, channelling similar nationalist attitudes
while also including his perspective as a soldier, commenting on how he can
conscionably send young men into war if he won’t do it himself in a supremely
powerful moment.
Erik Hivju’s initial role as a Norwegian colonel gives some
real punch to the scene that starts off everything else we see in the story,
and Karl Markovics gives a refreshingly level-headed depiction of the
German-appointed foreign minister who, rather than just wanting the Germans to
roll over them, wants to prevent open warfare at any cost even if it means disobeying the Fuhrer himself. That kind
of strong conviction needed a strong performance to back it up, and while
keeping things rather grounded, Markovics delivers.
Despite stepping my toes into new territory in terms of
nationality of the production, the story itself is hardly anything new by this
point. Stories set in WWII, as I have explained more than enough already in the
past, makes for easy Oscar fodder, to the point where this film was actually
cast as Norway’s entry into the Best Foreign Language Film category for the
Oscars. As for the methodology behind that story, this probably has the single
best approach to its story that it possibly could. Taking place over a scant
three days, with 24-esque title cards to show that most scenes only have a
couple hours separating them, the film is surprisingly taut for its
over-two-hour running time.
Then again, the relatively small timeframe of the
events end up making the events themselves have that greater an impact;
specifically, when it comes to showing the chaos going on within the Norwegian
government. With everything happening at such short notice, and ulterior plans
already in place for the German acquisition, the furore we see the characters
under hits that much harder as we see everyone scrambling to keep the peace and
prevent more deaths. Because of this, as the characters try to arrange for
peace agreements, the consequences for anything going wrong feels that much
more harrowing because the film presents it all as incredibly likely. When you
reach the point of another sovereign nation basically pulling the rug out from
under you, the chances of more bad things happening goes up.
As stated already, I know next to nothing about Norwegian
culture; I don’t even have the proxy excuse of going by what I’ve seen on film
because I lack even that much experience. However, through seeing the usual
pissing contests that take place as part of Western politics, I have enough of
an idea about nationalism and how much it can affect certain people.
Thankfully, at least on the side of the Norwegian officials, we end up seeing
the more positive and unifying side of nationalism with how the King and his
cohorts try to preserve the Norwegian sovereignty and democratic government.
Where this gets a bit strange, and frankly mesmerising, is when it sinks in
that Haakon VII and Bräuer are the
ones trying the most desperately to maintain the Norwegian standard. The two
foreigners most want to preserve the national heritage; hard not to draw
parallels between this and the modern approach to multiculturalism that certain
European countries have taken to, especially the “throw the baby
out with the bath water” approach to issues like
immigration.
This is where the film ends up reaching its most poignant
statement, in the form of the final conversation between Haakon and Bräuer
regarding the titular “choice” that the King must make. A lot of the film concerning Haakon involves him reflecting
on past choices, like his acceptance of his place as the King of Norway and how
that ended up being a decision he made on behalf of his own family, who ended
up relocating with him, but this is undeniably the big one. When presented with
the terms, even with Bräuer risking his own life by altering them in order to
give peace a chance, Haakon can’t do it. Given how this is decades-old
historical evidence being repeated, I don’t think a spoiler tag is necessary,
but since this is involving the ending, *SPOILERS*.
Haakon believes that, as the ruler of a democratic society, he alone can’t make
the choice of whether or not to acquiesce to the Reich’s demands. After all, if
he made a decision on behalf of his entire nation on his own, he wouldn’t be a
democratic ruler; he’d be a dictator, no different than the very evil that he
is trying to face. Rather than willingly let the Reich take his home, a point
made in a weirdly humourous moment about the King looking for excuses to see
his home for one last time before he leaves (and isn’t likely to ever return),
he upholds his values and those of his people and rejects the demands in a show
of democratic allegiance.
All in all, while I personally wasn’t intensely engaged by
this film, that isn’t nearly enough to make me ignore the sheer power behind
this production. The acting is stellar, the production wields a small space of
time to reveal incredibly dramatic turmoil within the story, and the writing
combines sharp character definition with an enthralling sense of national pride
to show what a single act of defiance can ultimately lead to, for better and
for worse. I won’t pretend to know all of the fallout based on the events shown
in this film, but on its own, this is very moving and very relevant cinema that
I hope gets that Oscar spotlight, if for no other reason than to show what
Norwegian national identity can create.
No comments:
Post a Comment