From Robert Eggers, director of The Witch and The Lighthouse, comes The Northman, an epic tale of fury and vengeance. Eggers is a preeminent talent in bringing to life bleak, muted historical nightmares. The Northman is nightmarish, but in a way that is intimate, brutal, and soulful.
The film is based on the same story Hamlet is derived from; this makes the film rather predictable, but The Northman is that rare breed of film that is wholly dedicated to "the journey." The strength of the Northman is not about "what happens next," but watching the film unfold in its entirety, creating a finely formed and extremely memorable gestalt. It's not a surprising or even particularly emotional film, but one of tremendous engagement, verisimilitude, and cinematic integrity.
The film follows Amleth, a Nordic warrior on a quest to avenge the death of his father, King Aurvandil Raven-Warrior. After separation from his mother and village as a boy, Amleth is eventually taken into the custody of his father's killer, Fjolnir the Brotherless, and teams with a mysterious and magical slave, Olga of the Birch Forest, to exact his revenge.
The Northman is a distinctive and rare film because of the strength of Eggers' singular vision. Only Eggers could arrange these elements in such an engaging and historically potent manner. From opening to closing credits, Eggers lovingly expounds on the mysticism and texture of the period, erecting sequences of great complexity and uncanny detail.
For example, his deft touch is displayed when young Amleth becomes a man, joining his father in a primal ritual in a smokey, claustrophobic cavern. The two drop to their knees and bark at the sky, watched on by Willem Dafoe's leering Heimir. Also consider a sequence in which Amleth battles a giant, undead knight for use of his sword. These hallucinatory reveries could only be dreamt up by a confident and visionary talent. This is Egger's film.
It's also Eggers' script, cowritten with Sjorn, an internationally lauded Icelandic author. Their story can be difficult to follow at times, not least because the dialogue is often garbled and mumbled, and the plot is stretched thin, dragging in the second act. However, motivations are crystal clear and characterizations are solid and blunt, particularly for central figures.
Eggers and Sjorn work with the ancient material rather than against it, crafting a highly ambitious saga of love, betrayal, uncertainty, and loss, peppered with Nordic symbolism and mystical influences. If the climax is a bit shaky, if the whole affair is a tad overwrought, it's also convincingly stoic, often engaging, and chillingly visceral.
The Northman may also be the finest looking film of the year, totally captivating in its landscape photography and the primal ferocity of its visual palate. Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke frequently utilizes natural light, using red-hot flames to cast a fiery glow for interior scenes, and the pale blue translucence of the moon for exterior scenes. Much of the film is stark and cold, a brutal, gripping atmosphere to match the icy scorn of Amleth's quest.
Many historical films which take place around this period use their gloom, mud, and general ugliness as a pretense for visual inadequacy, but The Northman captures the despair of the time while remaining visually sumptuous and elegant. The Northman also brilliantly captures its action, using complex, meticulously timed long takes to foster total immersion. Performers in action scenes push their bodies to the limit to execute Eggers' vision.
The immaculate look and sound of the film is balanced by its illustrious cast, a dedicated ensemble who mostly maintain the period feeling and underlying insanity. Alexander Skarsgard plays Amleth with a brutal force of primal fury, while maintaining a surprisingly soft, quiet introspection.
Anya Taylor-Joy plays his love interest Olga. She looks the part of a fair beauty, but also stands out in the unwashed, underfed populace. Taylor-Joy can't quite blend into the stark surroundings, but she is believable as a tender soul who wreaks deceptive havoc from the shadows. Willem Dafoe, Ethan Hawke, and Claes Bang are engaging as rugged, barbaric presences. The only member of the cast who never feels quite right for the period is Nicole Kidman; she's too glamorous, too plastic.
Overall, The Northman is a viscerally thrilling adventure, grandly conceived and cleverly executed. It's unlike anything in theaters this year, because of both its attention to historical detail and the minimization of computer assistance in creating its grand scope.
The tonal atmosphere and period psychology Eggers achieves deserve intense celebration; The Northman deserves to be remembered for a very long time as a darker, more fantastical, more brutal version of period favorites like Braveheart and Gladiator. Its storytelling is sparse but forceful, its passion clear and invigorating. It's a film that absolutely must be seen in a theater for maximum impact, a legitimate cinematic experience.
The film is based on the same story Hamlet is derived from; this makes the film rather predictable, but The Northman is that rare breed of film that is wholly dedicated to "the journey." The strength of the Northman is not about "what happens next," but watching the film unfold in its entirety, creating a finely formed and extremely memorable gestalt. It's not a surprising or even particularly emotional film, but one of tremendous engagement, verisimilitude, and cinematic integrity.
The film follows Amleth, a Nordic warrior on a quest to avenge the death of his father, King Aurvandil Raven-Warrior. After separation from his mother and village as a boy, Amleth is eventually taken into the custody of his father's killer, Fjolnir the Brotherless, and teams with a mysterious and magical slave, Olga of the Birch Forest, to exact his revenge.
The Northman is a distinctive and rare film because of the strength of Eggers' singular vision. Only Eggers could arrange these elements in such an engaging and historically potent manner. From opening to closing credits, Eggers lovingly expounds on the mysticism and texture of the period, erecting sequences of great complexity and uncanny detail.
For example, his deft touch is displayed when young Amleth becomes a man, joining his father in a primal ritual in a smokey, claustrophobic cavern. The two drop to their knees and bark at the sky, watched on by Willem Dafoe's leering Heimir. Also consider a sequence in which Amleth battles a giant, undead knight for use of his sword. These hallucinatory reveries could only be dreamt up by a confident and visionary talent. This is Egger's film.
It's also Eggers' script, cowritten with Sjorn, an internationally lauded Icelandic author. Their story can be difficult to follow at times, not least because the dialogue is often garbled and mumbled, and the plot is stretched thin, dragging in the second act. However, motivations are crystal clear and characterizations are solid and blunt, particularly for central figures.
Eggers and Sjorn work with the ancient material rather than against it, crafting a highly ambitious saga of love, betrayal, uncertainty, and loss, peppered with Nordic symbolism and mystical influences. If the climax is a bit shaky, if the whole affair is a tad overwrought, it's also convincingly stoic, often engaging, and chillingly visceral.
The Northman may also be the finest looking film of the year, totally captivating in its landscape photography and the primal ferocity of its visual palate. Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke frequently utilizes natural light, using red-hot flames to cast a fiery glow for interior scenes, and the pale blue translucence of the moon for exterior scenes. Much of the film is stark and cold, a brutal, gripping atmosphere to match the icy scorn of Amleth's quest.
Many historical films which take place around this period use their gloom, mud, and general ugliness as a pretense for visual inadequacy, but The Northman captures the despair of the time while remaining visually sumptuous and elegant. The Northman also brilliantly captures its action, using complex, meticulously timed long takes to foster total immersion. Performers in action scenes push their bodies to the limit to execute Eggers' vision.
The immaculate look and sound of the film is balanced by its illustrious cast, a dedicated ensemble who mostly maintain the period feeling and underlying insanity. Alexander Skarsgard plays Amleth with a brutal force of primal fury, while maintaining a surprisingly soft, quiet introspection.
Anya Taylor-Joy plays his love interest Olga. She looks the part of a fair beauty, but also stands out in the unwashed, underfed populace. Taylor-Joy can't quite blend into the stark surroundings, but she is believable as a tender soul who wreaks deceptive havoc from the shadows. Willem Dafoe, Ethan Hawke, and Claes Bang are engaging as rugged, barbaric presences. The only member of the cast who never feels quite right for the period is Nicole Kidman; she's too glamorous, too plastic.
Overall, The Northman is a viscerally thrilling adventure, grandly conceived and cleverly executed. It's unlike anything in theaters this year, because of both its attention to historical detail and the minimization of computer assistance in creating its grand scope.
The tonal atmosphere and period psychology Eggers achieves deserve intense celebration; The Northman deserves to be remembered for a very long time as a darker, more fantastical, more brutal version of period favorites like Braveheart and Gladiator. Its storytelling is sparse but forceful, its passion clear and invigorating. It's a film that absolutely must be seen in a theater for maximum impact, a legitimate cinematic experience.