No filmmaker puts their characters through the emotional wringer quite like Cristian Mungiu. His Palme d’Or winner, Fjord, is another grueling, morally complex drama exploring themes of child abuse, cultural and religious assimilation, and more. Sebastian Stan, finally able to embrace his Romanian heritage, is joined by Renate Reinsve in powerhouse performances as conservative parents who must decide what’s most important: staying true to themselves or fitting in with the society in which they have chosen to live. The consideration isn’t just for themselves, but also for their impressionable children.
Stan plays Mihai Gheorghiu, a Romanian man who moves to the birthplace of his Norwegian wife, Lisbet, played by Reinsve. Along with their children, including a newborn, they are trying to start a new life in this small, very progressive community. Mihai and Lisbet are very religious and aren’t shy about it. They pray every day, keep their kids away from television, the Internet, smartphones, anything that could influence them. They also teach them that homosexuality is against the Bible’s teachings. Mihai’s upbringing and culture make it okay for some corporal punishment in disciplining children, and so he and Lisbet admit to the occasional “slap” on the backside when needed.
However, even this amount of violence towards children is frowned upon in Norway, and it leads to the family becoming a target of Child Protective Services, which suspects the Gheorghius of child abuse. This not only leads to the two oldest kids, Elia (Vanessa Ceban) and Emmanuel (Jonathan Ciprian Breazu) being placed with a foster family, but even the newborn is briefly taken away from them, pending an investigation. With civil and criminal cases looming, the Gheorghius must navigate a system they don’t really understand, surrounded by people who have already judged them.
Mungiu has an agenda here, I think, and it’s to comment on the hypocrisy of progressives who preach tolerance and acceptance, but are quick to alienate, and even prosecute, those who fail to conform. The Gheorghius aren’t shown to be bad people. In fact, they appear to be extremely loving and nurturing of their children, even if their teachings won’t conform to the vast majority of the liberal audience. Mungiu shows how easily a well-intended system meant to protect kids can be twisted and misused by people with the best of intentions. Mihai and Lisbet have their children taken away without even a chance to make their case. They are judged more for refusing to assimilate than for any crime they may or may not have committed.
An interesting wrinkle is how Mihai and Lisbet choose to fight back, showing that the cultural divide is within the home as well. Lisbet turns to a family friend, Mia (a terrific Lisa Carlehed), who believes in them and wants to see the kids returned, even though her husband Mats (Markus Tonseth) kinda started the investigation against them. When that proves ineffective, Mihai takes a more aggressive stance, turning to the Romanian press to launch a media campaign smearing the Norwegian system for religious persecution. It’s a bullying tactic that could make sympathetic audiences look at Mihai in a more negative light, but it’s not wildly different from the way these situations are handled here in America, especially by conservatives. Further, the Gheorghius aren’t shown to be angels in all of this, either. While there is quite a lot of miscommunication at play, they are also shown to be a little bit pushy in their fundamentalist beliefs, which only adds more tension to the situation.
Mungiu’s screenplay, based loosely on true events, is keen enough to realize that this isn’t just happening to Mihai and Lisbet. Elia and Emmanuel get just as much attention as they grapple with a formative time in their life, being shuffled to foster homes and taken away from their parents, to being in a place that offers more temptation than they’ve ever experienced. A great subplot involves Noora (Henrikke Lund-Olsen), a rebellious neighbor girl who befriends Elia and Emmanuel. While she seems to be a bad influence, sneaking them out on boats at all hours of the night, Noora becomes their closest friend and much-needed lifeline. It’s the children, coming from vastly different backgrounds, who become positive influences on one another, a lesson the adults could’ve learned for themselves.
Stan, speaking three languages incuding his native Romanian, provides nuance in a role that could’ve shown Mihai to be cruel and unfeeling. He’s stern, yes, but ultimately very caring and supportive of his children, and also a loving husband to Lisbet. They didn’t have to give him that weird balding hairline to make his performance more credible, and I found it a little bit distracting. Reinsve, at this point, is just untouchable. Her Lisbet is quiet and sensitive, but arguably the most resolute at standing up for the family’s beliefs.
Gorgeously shot in Norway with the snowy mountains looming in background, with the occasional avalanche a reminder that this sleepy, peaceful little town has its share of turbulence. Fjord is very much in the mold of Mungiu’s previous films and those of the Romanian New Wave in general. As I said, Mungiu puts his characters through the emotional wringer, and the realist nature of his work means the audience will feel every bit of it, too. Fjord is one of the most challenging and thought-provoking movies of the year, but it’s also one that few will want to revisit very often.
Fjord opens in theaters October 9th via NEON.
