TIFF Review: “Fjord”

Fjord (Cristian Mungiu, 2026) 4½ out of 5 stars

Norway is a beautiful country with majestic landscapes, home today to a people steeped in progressive Western European principles, its violent Viking past a distant memory. In Fjord, the latest film from Romanian writer/director Cristian Mungiu (Graduation)—who won his second Cannes Palme d’Or in May of this year—we find ourselves immersed in the life of a small waterside town, following the misadventures of a family just arrived. The movie plunges us into the middle of an intense situation where the limits of tolerance are tested.

The Gheorghius—Romanian father, Norwegian mother, and five children, one of whom is but a baby—have moved to the maternal country for a fresh start and better opportunities. Deeply religious in a way that sets them apart from the community, they are not shy about their beliefs. But otherwise they appear to adjust well to the new circumstances.

Mihai (Sebastian Stan, A Different Man, acting in his native language), the patriarch, has accepted a job as IT director for a local firm. His wife, Lisbet (Renate Reinsve, Sentimental Value), though a trained nurse, works at the morgue. The oldest two kids, Elia (Vanessa Ceban) and Emmanuel (Jonathan Ciprian Breazu), join the high school run by their neighbor, Mats (Markus Scarth Tønseth, Havnaa), with whose teenage daughter, Noora (Henrikke Lund-Olsen), they strike up an initially tenuous friendship.

Given their lack of Norwegian at the start (Lisbet notwithstanding), the Gheorghius communicate with everyone beyond themselves in English (Romanian is spoken at home). It is not surprising, therefore, that a lack of basic understanding of the surrounding culture will play a central role in the narrative. So will their fundamentalist beliefs.

This is a movie that asks its audience a lot of hard questions about liberalism and compassion, and what it means to live in a pluralistic society. It’s easy enough to have a moral code to which one holds dear, but what happens when confronted with people who may have different standards of conduct? Is it our way or the highway? That is the central question here.

For, one day, after Elia shows up at school with bruises, a few teachers decide to refer the Gheorghius to the Barnevernet (Child Welfare Services), a powerful (and fiercely independent) organization that takes its responsibilities extremely seriously. There’s nothing wrong with that, in theory. After all, children are among the most vulnerable, and abuse inflicted on the young have lasting impacts for those affected and the societies in which they live.

But perhaps there should be some room in the equation for cultural differences, making space for ideas different from a particular place’s norms. Or at least a little bit of empathy for those from outside our circle. It should be possible to hold fast to standards while allowing latitude for growth.

However one feels about these issues, they form the spine of Fjord, a taut emotional thriller and domestic drama wrapped up in one thoroughly gripping story (that still manages to include an occasional lighthearted moment, too). Mungiu frames most of the action in wide shots, where the closest we get to the actors are in mostly medium-full shots (down to the knees, sometimes waists), faces never quite close enough for clear reading of expressions. It’s a cinematic technique that works well, frustrating our desire to know what characters are thinking. We can only assume, which is what sets everything in motion to begin with.

The ensemble, including the younger cast members, is quite strong, including all of the aforementioned plus Lisa Carlehed (The Tunnel) as Mats’ wife, who is also an attorney and eventually accepts the Gheorgius as clients. There are many additional subplots that inform the primary chain of events, all of them combining to create a fully realized whole. The only thing working against Fjord is an issue of pacing in its final act. Otherwise, it’s a smart study of a compelling problem that is very much of our time.