Review: Fjord
- CANNES 2026: Romanian helmer Cristian Mungiu crafts a legal thriller based on a true story, sparking a debate on the limits of institutional interference in our private lives
Just like in his Palme d'Or-winning 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, as well as in his most recent previous film, R.M.N., in Fjord, which has just premiered in the competition of the Cannes Film Festival, Cristian Mungiu examines a tiny microcosm in order to bring macro issues to the table and spark universal debates on pressing topics.
The matter under discussion this time around is youth upbringing, and he juxtaposes two contrasting views: the more dogmatic, traditional Christian perspective, widely considered outdated; and the secular one, which insists on children’s autonomy and, in Europe, has the privilege of being upheld as the norm and defended by law. The dichotomies of spiritual vs rational, conservative vs liberal and Eastern vs Western clash in intense fashion, resonating with our polarised contemporary European societies and questioning their perhaps most verbally extolled, yet practically fragile, value: tolerance.
Based on a thorny real-life case (which is nevertheless somewhat literally transferred to the screen), the plot zooms in on a couple who are cross-cultural but united by their evangelical faith. Mihai (Sebastian Stan) and Lisbet (Renate Reinsve) move from his native Romania to her native Norway with their five children and immediately come under the scrutiny of the local community. A bruise on the neck of their teenage daughter sets the local child-protection agency in motion, and in no time, their children are placed in three different foster homes while the case is being investigated, as the parents also face the looming threat of prison – it’s not only the bruise, but also their entire vision of cosmogony that is called into question. Suddenly, the calm and idyllic fjord where they believed they had found a safe haven turns into a nightmarish escape room, with no way out under the strict Norwegian legislation.
The film effectively brings together family drama and legal thriller aspects, just like the 2023 Cannes winner Anatomy of a Fall, by keeping the tension cranked up and remaining ambiguous until the very last minute, thus making one question all of the characters’ perspectives throughout, and way after, the film. But no matter how objective and non-partisan Mungiu may have tried to be, what stands out is the dominant narrative of the accusers against the accused – less for their specific actions than for their “backward” methods in a progressive world that considers restricting children’s access to YouTube, for example, a form of deprivation. It also raises the question of whether imposing one set of views over others with the condescending belief that they serve the common good is democratic, at a moment when certain Christian values have started to be seen as a pathology, and whether progressives should necessarily have the right to assume they should have the last word in a world where accelerated progress actually brings the risk of extinction.
Mungiu also subverts the usually subordinate position of the Eastern European within the Western world, portraying Mihai as an educated and fully integrated Romanian who does not hesitate to seek justice by his own means, refusing to accept the Western worldview as inherently omniscient. All of this philosophical complexity is embedded within a restrained and linear dramatic structure, unfolding mostly through interior spaces and articulated in a pared-down cinematic language that never overwhelms the viewer, instead leaving ample room for reflection. Stan and Reinsve’s understated performances align with the movie’s overall minimalist aesthetic, while Tudor Vladimir Panduru’s camera quietly but steadily draws us into meticulously arranged spaces that, in contrast to the turbulent events unfolding within and the bluish darkness outside, serve as a reminder of how fragile and ultimately illusory the sense of security produced by external order can be.
Fjord was produced by Romania’s Mobra Films in co-production with Sweden’s Garagefilm International AB and France’s Why Not Productions. Goodfellas handles its international sales.
Photogallery 18/05/2026: Cannes 2026 - Fjörd
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