With No Comment, director Petter Næss returns to political satire armed with a sharp sense of timing and a shrewd understanding of how contemporary democracies communicate, manipulate and self-combust. Already premiered in Norwegian cinemas on 22 August, the film is one of this year's main competition entries at the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival. Interestingly, the pic positions itself as a bold political satire-cum-dramedy, one that blends pointed commentary with a breezy, accessible tone. It is a story at once very Norwegian and unmistakably universal.

The premise is simple but fertile: Prime Minister Alma Solvik (Laila Goody) finds herself engulfed in scandal just as election season peaks. Her husband, Sondre (Torbjørn Aamodt), has been caught making dubious stock-market moves that appear to rely on insider information gleaned from Alma’s government. As the press circles and the opposition sharpens its knives, Alma and her ever-calculating spin doctor Karianne (a deliciously barbed Pia Tjelta) scramble to improvise a damage-control strategy. Their solution is unceremonious and ruthless: blame everything on Sondre and move on – an approach crystallised in the mantra “Sondre is the culprit.”

Næss and screenwriter Ståle Stein Berg cleverly root their story in an unspecified but recognisable present, striking a fine balance between real-world inspiration and fictional distancing. The two main political forces are reduced to generic labels – “The Yellows” and “The Blues” – a device that frees the film from local specificity while making its satire applicable well beyond Norway. Viewers from almost any country will find echoes of their own political class here: the power games played in back rooms, the grey eminences pulling strings, the ever-expanding communication teams shaping reality, and an electorate that is at once eager, anxious and naïve.

On this front, No Comment proves rather incisive. It dissects not only the mechanics of political spin, but also the ecosystem that sustains it: the public’s credulity, the opposition’s opportunism, and above all, a media landscape increasingly addicted to scandal, gossip and prurient half-truths.

The performances anchor this blend of cynicism and humour effectively. Goody plays Alma as a woman trying to remain prime minister both in office and at home, her poise cracking just enough to betray the absurdity of the situation. Tjelta, following another sharp and abrasive turn this year in Don’t Call Me Mama [+leggi anche:
recensione
trailer
intervista: Nina Knag
scheda film] (premiered at Karlovy Vary), excels as Karianne, a strategist whose glacial efficiency borders on comedic cruelty.

Formally, Næss opts for simple, immediate direction, favouring straightforward framings and a clean visual language. At times, the execution leans a little too close to television aesthetics, but the film compensates for this with sustained pacing and a script that keeps its narrative rhythm tight. The technical departments – cinematography by Gaute Gunnari, production design by Sunniva Rostad and editing by Perry Eriksen – deliver competent, functional work that supports the story without drawing unnecessary attention.

Ultimately, No Comment succeeds as an entertaining, well-calibrated political dramedy – one that observes the spectacle of democracy with clarity, irony and a touch of exasperation. It may not reinvent the genre, but it offers a perceptive snapshot of politics as theatre, media as accelerant, and voters as both audience and accomplices.

No Comment was produced by Oslo-based Maipo Film. TrustNordisk is in charge of its world sales.