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Debuting at Cannes Film Festival and snagging the prized Palme d’Or, the festival equivalent to ‘Best Picture’, Fjord (2026) follows a devout Romanian-Norwegian family and their assimilation into new local community within rural Norway. Sebastian Stan (The Apprentice) gloriously leads the Gheorghius family’s move as father Mihai, alongside Renate Reinsve’s (Backrooms) entrancing portrayal of their children’s mother, Lisbet. However, their integration hits a snag when neighbours uncover their more traditional means of education and punishment, which are controversially influenced by conservative Christian values.
Boasting a tense legal drama, Fjord challenges audience’s perspectives on assimilation of foreign cultures and respect for religion. Questioning whether neighbours were correct to raise welfare concerns when adolescent Elia (Vanessa Ceban), one of the five Gheorghius children, arrives to school with unusual bruising – marks assumed to be from her parents strictly traditional principles. Inspired by true elements from the 2015 child custody case of the Bodnariu family, Cristian Mungiu (4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days) helms the project as writer-producer-director, delivering the Gheorghius’ battle against child protection services with a slower, more thought-provoking approach.
Gorgeous landscapes of Norwegian mountains and rivers deliver stunning backdrops to Fjord’s meditating chaos. An energy that festers within new homes, schools and courtrooms, all graced by ambitiously long takes that imbue an uneasy, yet magnetic, drama as Mihai and Lisbet grapple with a community they consider frustratingly litigious. Believing they are suffering unjust harassment and a shunning stemming from their religious beliefs. Within the opening 15 minutes, its apparent Fjord’s slow burn approach isn’t for everyone. Instead, Director Mungiu targets an audience willing to soak in trivial family grievances and an indulgence in Christian faith, demanding patience before relishing in the consequences of their allegations.
Multilingual dialogue, in which he is not entirely proficient in, lands Mihai in trouble when questioned about potential abuse towards his children. Language barriers, a lack of a defense attorney and growing prejudice find him somewhat admitting to using force on Elia as punishment – although confusion around his exact methods and violence lingers. Despite explaining Romanian parenting, of where his heritage lies, an intimidating police presence backs him into a corner. Swiftly beginning the legal battle to reclaim his children who are taken away by protective services. In the midst of this, their mother, Renate Reinsve’s Lisbet, suffers her own tribulations. Caught in an awkward dynamic caring for her neighbour’s, the Halberg’s, elderly father – the same family who originally raised the safeguarding concerns.
Blossoming friendships between the neighbour’s young children adds to this dynamic, and our primary adult characters develop a uniquely fragile relationship built upon both respect and concern. Mungiu’s familiarly patient direction wavers somewhat here, leaning very heavily into the term ‘slow-burner’. However, when these dynamics become increasingly fraught, and courtroom drama is blessed by a commentary on right-wing lunacy, as well as prejudice towards Mihai’s Romanian heritage, Fjord, eventually, begins to soar. Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve are exceptional in their emotionally exhausted battles for parenthood, and keep Fjord afloat during dull dialogue heavy moments prior to this thorny courtroom drama.
Mihai and Lisbet’s enticing dance between self-righteousness or abusive parenting is captivating, exploding with accusations and an inspired undressing of traditional and contemporary values. But how much of this overarching narrative, which becomes increasingly dense in geopolitics, may land with audiences is dubious. This isn’t helped by elements of a coming-of-age story emerging seconds before the credits roll. Concluding wholly underexplored, despite possibility for an intriguing unravelling within the Gheorghius’ implied perspectives on sexuality. And the courtroom drama – whilst riveting in the back and forth detailings of Mihai’s upbringing, parental responsibility and cultural differences – concludes lacking a definitive answer to the alleged abuse, or enough ambiguity to keep you guessing.
Both the legal and character driven narratives end strangely satisfied, with any prior friction around the accusations largely erased. Fjord finishes on fresh dramatic flavours that, had they arrived 30 minutes earlier with even minor exploration, may deliver a tear-jerking experience. Instead, the introduction to these characters and where we leave them is far too similar. No lessons learnt, little evident character growth, simply a mere chapter of a book closed. This conclusion is awkward to critique, both compelling and unsatisfying, neither right nor wrong for Mungiu’s vision – but nonetheless feels like a missed opportunity to bow out with a gut-punch finale.
Fjord is a mildly confused, and certainly too patient. Offering a contemplative character study dismantling notions around foreign cultures and differences in regional upbringings, all located within Norway’s picturesque environment. Uplifting more tedious scenes, despite their utterly impressive length, are incredible performances from Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve who infuse life in Mungiu’s latest flick. And whilst far from a failure, Fjord’s pacing proves to be a self-shackling hiccup that prevents the narrative achieving its electric potential. There’s plenty of fascinating character drama to revel in if prepared for a slow 2 hours 26 minutes, but Fjord’s ruminative approach will likely find more appreciation amongst die-hard cinephiles than general audiences.
Fjord Releases in Cinemas October 23rd
