Fjord

Shot in icy widescreen compositions against the stark beauty and avalanches of Norwegian precipices, Fjord sustains nail-biting tension across its lengthy running time through meticulous pacing, confirming the Palme d’Or laureate as one of contemporary cinema’s sharpest moral observers.

The two-and-a-half-hour result is riveting, acted with careworn nuance down the line by an excellent ensemble, yawing this way and that in terms of narrative and emotional momentum, even as we sense early on that no clear, cathartic resolution will ever be forthcoming.

Mungiu trusts the audience to arrive at their own conclusions as he casts the film out into dark, uncertain waters, with us unsure where exactly it is headed next, yet continuing forward all the same, much like people and society themselves, regardless of whether we are ready for it or not.

Stan and Reinsve both give restrained but emotional performances.

Can you truly befriend or even develop an acquaintance with someone of dramatically opposing views? The optimist in me says yes. But when it comes to the development and protection of children, Mungiu proves it’s grayer than I care to admit.

Fjord, which Mungiu also wrote, plateaus midway through, long before a trial in the most stunning courtroom of all time is meant to liven things up. It doesn’t really, despite the prosecutor’s string of nasty insults.

Ultimately, the film does not compellingly deliver a blazing truth about its various relationships – but neither does it intriguingly withhold any such truth from us.