‘Fjord’ Review: Cristian Mungiu Takes On Religious and Progressive Extremism in Exceptional Family Drama [A] Cannes
For many in America, there has been a shift over the course of the last decade, where educators have become less open to teach things to students that can be seen as controversial, radical, and properly sourced; where books are being banned for their content, curriculums are picked over with a fine tooth comb, and teachers are retiring because of these changes, and this isn’t even including the fact that organized religion is being thrown down the throats of families that don’t necessarily practice any type of faith. In Cristian Mungiu’s Fjord, set in modern day Norway, the roles of extremism are reversed, and instead of institutions having to fight against the individuals like in our country, it’s the other way around in his drama, as a family of seven are forced to battle the system they’ve recently moved into in order to keep their family together. Fjord takes the idea of “it takes a village to raise a child” and transforms it into a gripping, upsetting, brilliant examination of the confrontational times we live in.
We begin Fjord with the arrival of the Gheorgui family, Mihai (Sebastian Stan) and Lisbet (Renate Reinsve) and their five children, who have moved to a small Norwegian town, relocating from Mihai homeland of Romania. From the moment they enter the small fishing town will luscious landscapes of snowy mountains in the background, the Gheorgui’s are welcomed by all that live around them and those they work with. Mihai has landed an IT position in with the church that the family is a part of (for whom they pray with and share meals with on a weekly basis) and Lisbet works within a nursing home, caretaking of the elderly most of the time, and even preparing the bodies of residents for pick up to the mortuary once they’ve passed. Their next door neighbors are the Halbergs, with the father, Mats (Markus Tønseth) being the headmaster at the children’s school. While things start off as friendly, with each family spending time together alongside of the members of the community, and especially the bond between Gheorgui’s teenagers Elia (Vanessa Ceban), Emmanuel (Jonathan Ciprian Breazu), and the Halbergs’ daughter Noora (Henrikke Lund-Olsen). In these early moments of getting to know these characters, we know they live under strict protection of their parents from bad influences outside of their home; the kids don’t have cell phones, play video games, or even know what YouTube is. The scenes involving the teenagers hanging out, living life, getting into trouble, accepting each other for who they are is the hope one wants to find in our future generations; a future without judgment, though Mungiu makes the strong case that this massive flaw in humanity will continue if we allow our superficial fears to get in the way of peace (love thy neighbor, if it were so simple).
But things aren’t as peachy as they seem, with the religious, evangelical side of the newcomers creeping into their work, as Lisbet prays over the dead and uses religious symbols to comfort those who have no faith, or Mihai playing ‘Amazing Grace’ on the piano during a lunch when he is visiting the children’s school. Bothersome to some, you can see in Mats, the teachers, and others who know the family, that their opinions on them are changing each and every day, with the considerations of not wanting their children to learn lessons from people they fundamentally disagree with. This is the magic sprinkled throughout Mungiu’s screenplay; the slow tension of the film’s drama built on the back of societies insecurities, as someone like Mats, an educator, is massively upset when he comes to find out that Noora is learning Christian music from their new neighbors, and that the influence the Gheorgui’s belief system is having on his daughter. While Noora doesn’t see it as nothing more than getting to know her new friends (and possibly even her first crush in Elia, for whom the film implies a stronger bond between the two girls), this internal feeling from her parent of indoctrination challenges his view point, feeding those superficial fears that we fear things that are different, and want to eliminate it because it’s a disruption in the comfort we grow accustomed to in our lives.
Besides the music, at school, other red signs from the Gheorgui’s views on life surface with one of their middle children dismissing a young classmate who says she’s a lesbian, claiming the Gheorgui’s religion doesn’t allow them to endorse that way of life, and that their classmate will go to hell. Not something you want to hear, but for Fjord, this is only the beginning of the avalanche that is about to come down (this does literally happen twice in the film, though it’s not as annoying as it sounds). After getting into a small altercation at home, Elia shows up to school the next day and is discovered to have bruises on her body, and an inquiry into the matter is sent to Child Protection, an independent investigation unit that’s government funded and works to make sure children are safe in their Norwegian homes from any abuse of their parents. We do see some of an altercation with Elia and her mother involving bumping into the newborn baby, but Mungiu does a great job at limiting what we see to allow the audience enough room to piece things together in their own mind, making us think, was that how Elia got those bruises, or did something happen in gym class or on the Noora’s family boat. The vagueness becomes a vital tool in helping us build up the suspense of this troubling case against the Gheorgui parents.
Once Child Protection starts their investigation, the madness begins as the children, including the infant, are taken from Mihai and Lisbet and placed in foster care with various families, and the police get a written, signed confession from Mihai detailing his involvement in disciplining his children. The statement, due to the language differences between Norway, Romania, and even English (as all three languages are used over the course of the film, often in the same conversation), causes a disagreement with Mihai and the police, but he ultimately caves in as there is no point in fighting against a system that already has made up its mind that you are guilty. This use of these differences throughout the film is not just with language but with culture, as losing your children for what Mihai calls a “slap” on the butt is more a figure of speech and more like a pat on the backside, but to the people who live within his new homeland, this word is much more serious and not something that can be used in a joking matter.
Stan delivers a career best performance at Mihai, a fish out of water who has to sit back and hear his wife, their lawyers, and their supporters tell him to stay silent when he’s frustration is building and building throughout the conflict in the film, leading to a small outburst of rage as he throws down an axe and declares to Lisbet that he’s going to take matters into his own hands. This tactic includes getting the news, as well as controversial evangelical leaders from Romania involved, making this a fight between religion and culture that feels as close to home as possible, as town halls have spread across the US about what should be taught in the schools, as well as the role of religion in them. Stan’s quiet yet menacing (sometimes even awkward) processes lingers around Mungiu’s frame, as a man who is willing to let loose his anger that’s been building up, but will do everything it takes to get his children back. As a Romanian himself, and speaking his native tongue throughout the film, Stan is able to show his rising range as a dramatic actor, and give a personal connection to Mihai as someone who was raised differently than everyone in the community, and feels that this trail of his values are being tested out of pure hate.
On the other side, there is Reinsve’s magnificent performance as Lisbet, and is the heart of Fjord. As a mother, caretaker, and fellow Norwegian returned home, the Oscar nominated actress continues to show why she is the actress of her generation, giving a subtle yet profound work as a mother who has seen her world (her children) leave and is helpless in bringing them back. The scene where Child Protection comes to take the baby away, her breakdown outside of the house is pure devastation, alongside a scene where Lisbet can no longer produce milk from her body for the baby due to the stress of their on-going battle to bring their children home. It’s a masterclass of acting from Reinsve, as her eyes tell the story of pain and regret settling in, as if she’s known that what they might have done is wrong, and only wishes for a second chance, all the while, the courts continue to make her and Mihai look like terrible parents.
Not since Anatomy of a Fall have we seen a European court room be so volatile and vindictive to our protagonists on screen, with actor Christian Rubeck playing the lawyer for the opposition, in what might be the villain of the year as a hire gun who is looking to take down the Gheorguis, one question at a time, every minor flaw in their belief system judged under the microscope, with a close runner up being Gunda (Ellen Dorrit Petersen), the insanely evil case worker for Child Protection who states clearly on the stand, and at the end of the film, that the children should never go back to their parents. Given the way Norwegians, outside of Mia (Lisa Carlehed), the lawyer and material member of the Halbergs, are written in the film, one would think Mungiu must’ve had a terrible vacation run in with the country and looked to take his frustrations out on them within this latest film.
Within all of this tension and depiction of an unjust, unfair system of rules lies the fundamental problem of extremism in any form of society. In showcasing a religious, conservative values household on the attack by the left leaning policies of a united community, it shows that the idea of inclusiveness can’t exist if we are fighting to erase someone else’s view of the world. It’s no different than erasing our history, or banning books because it has a gay character or changing history books in the US so that the Civil War doesn’t confront our racist, problematic past. It’s a dangerous, often not spoken about line that Mungiu crosses here with this subject matter, and in doing so, he’s crafted another masterpiece to go alongside a filmography of films that have never shied away from going after the harsh truths and lies within our imperfect, human societies.
With gorgeous work from cinematographer Tudor Vladimir Panduru blended together by sharp editing from Mircea Olteanu, Mungiu and his crew have assembled a taunt mortality tale, making the view look into their own values and assess if they are willing to understand those they don’t agree with, to be empathic in a time of indecency. Only then can we live in harmony and less judgment, where we value our neighbors as much as the people under our own roofs. It’s not about religion versus culture, it’s about humanity living, understand, and accepting as one, and over the course of Fjord, Mungiu reminds us that we have a long way to go before we can get to that place of tranquility, if it ever existed in the first place.
Grade: A
This review is from the 2026 Cannes Film Festival where Fjord world premiered In Competition. NEON will release the film in the U.S.
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