The Northman Aims at Valhalla
Robert Eggers’ greatest strength has always been an unwavering commitment to his visions, whether in the linguistic quotes and cadences of Puritan New England in The Witch or the strange isolation of a couple shaggy outcasts in The Lighthouse.
Thankfully, even with a comparatively outsized scope and budget, the same is true for his latest. The Northman tells a disturbingly bloody tale of revenge set in ancient Scandinavia, where the weather and morals were a sight more brutal than most modern audiences are accustomed to.
Amleth, heir to the throne and prefiguration of Hamlet, watches in shock as his uncle Fjölnir murders his father and only narrowly fails to murder him. Fleeing to far off lands, Amleth vows his revenge: avenge father, save mother, kill Fjölnir. It’s a simple, catchy goal that sets an obsessive course for his life.
After years of warring and pillaging, Amleth hears that Fjölnir has lost the crown and fled to Iceland with Amleth’s mother, and he disguises himself as a slave to begin his revenge. For most of the film, we watch his plans unfold. Slowly, and brutally.
Beneath its bloodshed, The Northman is a fascinating battle between differing visions of the world. The characters live under the gaze of different gods, and each god has their own prophecy to offer. Eventually, Amleth’s quest for vengeance clashes with a gentler, more hopeful possibility.
There are strong performances all around. Alexander Skarsgård manages to convey a struggling humanity beneath Amleth’s rage; Claes Bang’s wicked Fjölnir slowly transforms into a sadder, more interesting man. Anya Taylor-Joy gives another bold performance even through a thick Russian accent. And as Amleth’s mother, Nicole Kidman is only given a couple of scenes to shine, but she knows exactly how to use them—in a movie with numerous shocking images, it’s Kidman who provides the film with its most surprising moment.
But despite all of these, the real is Eggers’ craft: unrelenting tracking shots weary the viewer with violence; wide landscapes arrest with their beauty and barrenness; and mystic interludes remind us that this is truly another world.
And it is. The Northman’s brutality is pervasive, even excessive. At some point, even the most bloodthirsty audiences are likely to want off the ride, or at least see a quick culmination to all the horror. But as always, Eggers is committed to portraying this world accurately.
The strength of The Northman is that Eggers doesn’t shy back an inch as he depicts the reality of Amleth’s quest for vengeance. This isn’t a story about a superhero who struggles to restrain himself to his code of no killing—this is a story that demands mutilated bodies and Hel-fire. It’s uncomfortable, unrelenting, alienating.
There were times I longed for Amleth to choose a different path: one of mercy, quiet, and peace. But Amleth wasn’t raised on the same stories as me, his world wasn’t textured by the same vision and virtues. For Amleth, loyalty and goodness are shown through conquering. Justice comes from the axe. I wholeheartedly reject this vision of the world, but Amleth wouldn’t, and Eggers is right to depict it honestly.
The Northman lacks the sharp clarity of The Witch, and it never reaches the sheer bizarre heights of The Lighthouse, but it’s still a testament to the profound vision shared by Eggers and his collaborators. If this is what he accomplishes with a grander budget and cast, then the future holds promising (and perhaps distressing) things in store.
