The Last Sentence

A remarkably full-bodied and frank character study that illuminates the old saw about the political being personal in a genuinely unusual way.

Measured and beautifully modulated, the 82-year-old director has the kind of sureness and fluidity that is easy to underestimate. But it's difficult not to be impressed by the results.

It’s a thoughtful and workmanlike portrait, but a less than profoundly moving one.

Though ambitiously busy, the film is also self-sabotaging and stagnant, showcasing its main character's struggles without interpreting them into a cohesive thesis.

Troell’s portrait, driven by a desire to excavate the truth, is a refreshing respite from artificial biopics.

This biographical drama, shot in crisp black-and-white, offers a potentially intriguing study in high-minded political/moral obstinacy, but feels too claustrophobic — and, finally, tediously like a one-man window on great events — to fully come to dramatic life.

This attention to the personal crises of Segerstedt comes at the expense of a broader and more elusive subject, namely, the war. We know what Segerstedt did, and Troell tries to ask why. What he ignores are the implications.