On this page: EXIT 8 | THE LAST VIKING | ORPHAN

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The engaging Ninomiya vividly conveys this man's frustration, underscored with the deeper things on his mind. When his phone finally reconnects, his ex jokes about his poor sense of direction before saying that she's waiting for him to help her decide what to do. The idea of becoming a father is a huge punch of conflicting emotions. And other characters have their own subtext. The virtually wordless Asanuma is utterly magnetic. Kochi gets to play up his issues with remarkable physicality.

Playing out like levels in a time loop videogame, the changing numbers on an exit sign let these perplexed people know whether they're on the right track. The teen observes that everyday life is a series of repetitions anyway. So the film is cleverly constructed with a sense of momentum, a riveting forward motion even as events spin around on themselves. There's a real sense that the little boy is a key to all of this, and that compassionate humanity is the goal. So where this story goes is both intriguing and eerily involving.

themes, violence

22.Apr.26

Like improvisational ensemble players, these actors bounce hilariously off each other, creating offbeat connections and reacting outrageously to each other. Lie Kaas holds the centre as a hothead incapable of containing his rage. He loves his brother but has no patience with him. Mikkelsen is wonderful against-type as the soft-spoken Manfred, even as he also has serious impulse issues. The surrounding characters are brought to life with unusual attention to every quirky detail.

At the centre of the story is the fact that Anker has repressed the darker memories from his childhood in a similar way that Manfred hides from them by becoming another persona. Animated bookend sequences play on Manfred's fascination with vikings and runes, spinning a tale about a chieftain who is determined to make his disabled son feel the same as everyone else. And the refreshing point is that all of us, without exception, are misfits.

themes, language, violence

22.Apr.26

Barabas has a remarkably steely presence, giving Andor magnetic, wilful charisma. Even if he over-reacts, his earnest emotions are visible in his strained face, reflected in his full physicality. So the way he connects to others is riveting. Waskovics is superb as his tenacious mother, who knows when to fight and when to give in. And Gadebois is terrifying as the imposing Berend, whose temper is almost as worrying as Andor's, but far more perilous.

Nemes layers fascinating textures into this film, depicting the nation's experience in this boy whose identity is so confusingly scrambled. Some of the symbolism is a bit heavy-handed, but it still catches the imagination. Andor finds solace in the idea that he is Jewish, persecuted by both Nazis and Soviets, so the idea that he might be ethnically Hungarian literally turns his stomach. Does this mean that he is a very different kind of victim? Or maybe someone who has betrayed his own people on a genetic level? The questions are complex and darkly provocative.

themes, language, violence

31.Mar.26