Mark Reviews Movies: THE NORTHMAN

The Northman, Focus Features

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 21, 2022

In The Northman, the legend of Amleth, a vengeful Scandinavian prince, gets a re-working from co-writer/director Robert Eggers, who's no stranger to literate, historical dramas with elements of the supernatural. This version takes the foundation, which certainly is more famously known by way of William Shakespeare's own adaptation of the legend (The original name is a sort of incomplete Pig Latin form of the name of the Bard's vengeful Danish prince), and slowly begins to turn its straightforward tale of revenge inside-out.

That's the most fascinating thing about the narrative of Eggers and Sjón's screenplay, which assumes we know—either from one of the most famous plays in the history of theater or from the assumed conventions of countless tales of vengeance—what will happen in this story, how it will occur, and why it has to be that way. There's a deeper, more complex story within this, though, which puts forth multiple questions about how and why we take those assumptions about revenge, its traditional justification, and its supposedly balancing purpose for granted. The movie introduces that notion, revels in the muddy morality of it for a bit, and finally just takes the more traditional path anyway.

To a certain extent, the movie's hesitation to delve into its dissection of bloody revenge is irrelevant. For a while here, the story is secondary to Eggers' commitment re-creating the world of the Nordic lands of the 9th century, as well as exploring its societal/cultural values and its religious beliefs/practices. The basic thrust of this well-known—even if people don't know exactly from where it comes—tale is almost an excuse for Eggers to combine a grimy, brutal sense of aesthetic realism with a haunting atmosphere of unnatural dread.

That authenticity and atmosphere takes this movie a long way. Once the story and the underlying ideas about revenge come into sharper focus, though, the filmmakers don't develop those with anywhere near the same rigor they do when it comes to building the world surrounding them.

An extended prologue introduces us to a kingdom on a stormy peninsula somewhere in the North Atlantic. King Aurvandil (Ethan Hawke) has returned from a lengthy war campaign to Queen Gudrún (Nicole Kidman) and his young son Amleth (played as a child by Oscar Novak). Having been wounded in battle, the king wants to prepare for his son to succeed him to the throne.

Soon after, the king is ambushed by soldiers loyal to his brother Fjölnir (Claes Bang), who offers the coup de grace to Aurvandil. The prince escapes in a boat, vowing to avenge his father, save his mother, and kill his uncle.

Years later, Amleth (Alexander Skarsgård) has become a ruthless warrior for a conquering tribe (A one-take depicting Amleth's barbarity in battle offers that and a showcase for Skarsgård's bestial physicality in the role). Following the sacking of a village, he learns that Fjölnir has been deposed and is now a farmer in Iceland with two sons, the younger from his marriage to Amleth's mother. Pretending to be a captive slave, Amleth makes his way to his uncle's farm, and unknown to his family, prepares for revenge.

Obviously, the story here is different from the original legend (It is enjoyable to see how the screenwriters incorporate and twist elements of it and/or Shakespeare's Hamlet, such as a scene in which the skull of a once-beloved court fool, played by Willem Dafoe in the prologue, offers insight and a confrontation in the queen's chambers, which transforms the—at least as it's read by some—incestuous subtext of Shakespeare's scene into the actual text). Eggers and Sjón essentially have reduced the tale to its groundwork.

From there, Amleth's scheme to psychologically destroy and ultimately murder his uncle becomes one guided by religious rituals (A pair of witches, played by Björk and Ingvar Sigurdsson, offer the vengeance-seeker a plan, and a spell-caster named Olga, played by Anya Taylor-Joy, helps and comes to love Amleth) and aided by relics of folklore (A magical sword must be retrieved from its undead possessor, whom Amleth must fight). The real foundations for his goal, though, are traditions of familial obligation and the contemporary code of what it means to be a warrior and a man.

Those first two elements of the story give the movie's otherwise grounded and sparse backdrop a mysterious air of imposing doom. This is a world in which prophesies and enchanted weapons are as commonplace as rolling hills, stone-and-wood edifices, and engrained cruelty (Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke gives a chilly bleakness to the landscapes, but some tricks, such a monochromatic nighttime scenes and visions of the supernatural, help to make the more fantastical components just as vital and authentic).

Visually, all of this is engaging, but as Amleth learns some difficult truths about his living and dead family, Eggers and Sjón start but fail to explore the ideas they raise. Basically, there's another story of which Amleth has no knowledge, but with the knowledge comes assorted questions about his code as a warrior, his role as an avenger for his father, and his loyalty to a still-living family and a potential one in the future. By the end of The Northman, there are neither heroes nor villains to be found, but in the movie's final rush toward a simplistic resolution, there's little acknowledgment or examination of that idea, either.

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