“Fjord,” which won the top prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, is the latest of Romanian director Cristian Mungiu’s explorations of societal and political systems. Some will not read any further after that description — Romanian? Political? Systems? — but for those of you who stayed with me, the movie is a fictionalization of a controversial child custody case in Norway about a decade ago that played out on an international stage. If you are progressive in your beliefs, this examination of possible governmental overreach is likely to hit you in some sensitive spots, and perhaps not in a good way.
The film tells the story of Mihai and Lisbet Gheorghiu, who move with their five children from Romania to Norway, which is Lisbet’s home country. (The actual case concerned a family named Bodnariu, and it differs in some details.) Their new town abuts a mountain where avalanches are common, threatening frequent but unpredictable disruptions. The Gheorghius are Pentecostal Christians, and their faith and occasional proselyting elicits some skepticism from their new neighbors. But by and large the family’s integration into the community proceeds smoothly, if tentatively.
Their oldest daughter shows up at school one day with a few visible bruises. What caused the marks is not entirely clear: A fight? A fall? Roughhousing? A beating? When she and her brother are interrogated by school authorities, they admit that their parents have occasionally spanked them. Neither act as if they feel endangered or abused. However, corporal punishment of children is a crime in Norway, and all of the children are immediately removed from the parents’ care.
Being Romanian, Mihai struggles sometimes with understanding new legal norms and language. What he characterizes as light smacks on the butt were permissible in Romania but are called beatings or strikes in Norway’s legal parlance. We witness how his words are twisted and coerced. Likewise, his Pentecostal faith, conservative in its outlook on some social issues, is viewed with barely concealed disdain by the authorities.
Norwegian child protection services are not shown kindly in the film. The decision to remove the children occurs without any interviews or interventions with the parents; the two of them are simply presented with the decision, even though one of their five children is a nursing infant. The parents’ perfectly reasonable questions are taken as affronts, and they are repeatedly advised to be patient and to cooperate so as not to lose custody permanently. Yet the timing of investigations and hearings is protracted; the government entities do not act with any urgency.
Mungiu is holding up a mirror to liberal intolerance, and despite “Fjord”’s acclaim at Cannes, not everyone has appreciated the movie’s portrayal of events. In contrast to the Gheorghius, the family of some liberal neighbors is depicted as contentious and ineffective in its measures to control a sullen adolescent daughter. As for the agency, its officials are smug, inflexible and sometimes sloppy. It’s difficult not to be outraged when a governmental lawyer smirks about Mihai’s faith and tries to play gotcha. As shown here, this is clearly a rush to judgment.
“Fjord” takes a stand, but is it fair? My own liberal side is aware of too many cases reported in the Boston Globe of children who suffered because of inadequate social services oversight. Mungiu wants to provoke us, to cause viewers to take a second look at their biases, but his sympathies are clear. Those liberal neighbors with the unruly child are obviously meant to point out some hypocrisy, to show how some questionable behaviors are tolerated while others are stigmatized.
The action takes place against often gorgeous Norwegian landscapes. Its dialogue is a mix of Norwegian, English, and Romanian. The pace of “Fjord” is deliberate, and the drama’s tone reflects the chilly landscape; nothing is overhyped. Even when the family’s plight becomes an international and right-wing religious cause, Mungiu resists showing the demonstrations with chaotic shouting or violence. At times, the film threatened to become one of my least favorite kinds of movie experiences, one that forces characters into evidently unjust or tortuous situations, and leaves the audience to stew in outrage and frustration, two emotions that current events already supply to me in abundance. Eventually, I appreciated “Fjord”’s quiet fury.
Sebastian Stan plays Mihai. An American actor best known for his appearances as Captain America’s cohort, Bucky, in Marvel movies, Stan is crafting a career in riskier projects. He was Oscar-nominated for his performance as Donald Trump in the movie “The Apprentice,” which I avoided for some reason. His physical transformation here is understated. A handsome man is now bearded and balding with a pair of glasses: simple changes, yet he is almost unrecognizable. As his wife, Renate Reinsve is also deglamorized. She inhabits her character, but like Stan, she serves the material. Both of them do unshowy, effective work, but this movie is not an actor’s showcase.
Mungiu stated in a New York Times interview that he was “nonjudgmental” in portraying the case, and that he wanted viewers to use the film as an opportunity to examine their prejudices. The movie doesn’t confirm that claim. He obviously has a viewpoint that doesn’t reflect neutrality. “Fjord” is a slow burn and gripping in its own way. But the film would have been richer had the opposing viewpoints been more balanced. As it stands, the parents are on the side of the angels, and their progressive opponents are narrow-minded and wrong-headed. In the movie, he’s correct. The Norwegian authorities overstepped. But the real world is more complex.
“Fjord” Written and directed by Cristian Mungiu. Starring Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, Lisa Carlehed, Ellen Dorrit Petersen and Lisa Loven Kongsli. Rated R for language, full nudity and self-injury. Running time: 2 hours 26 minutes.
