Director Robert Eggers came onto the scene in 2015 with his beloved indie horror hit The VVitch, a film steeped in an oppressive 1600s atmosphere in which a then-unknown Anya Taylor-Joy becomes seduced by “dark” forces as a metaphor for womanhood then and now. The VVitch was at the forefront of the slow-burn folk horror craze that’s still going strong.
Eggers’ next project was even weirder. 2019’s The Lighthouse saw Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson in a black-and-white 4:3 ratio vying for power and control of their claustrophobic microcosm, as cabin fever slowly stripped away their sanity . . . and their clothes.
All this introduction is to say that Eggers is a fresh and creative new voice in cinema, so his latest, a Viking vengeance epic, sounds incredible on paper. I’ve been trying to parse why The Northman didn’t fully work for me, and I’ll try to elucidate the whys below, but the ultimate point remains: it didn’t.
Eggers’ trademarks are all here (I’ll try to remain as spoiler-free as possible)—the inscrutable English dialects, the meticulous production design, the gorgeous cinematography, the nightmarish visions and the slowly tightening grip of despair. But his success has drawn bigger names, and maybe I’m getting old (I’m three months older than Eggers, apparently), but it’s getting harder and harder for me buy famous actors in these types of roles. Ethan Hawke does his damnedest to convince us he’s a strong Norse king, bound by honor and vengeance, the only worthy death is death in battle, blah blah. But beneath the beard and dirt I still see a suburban dad trying his best, or a romantic expat falling in love with Julie Delpy.
The same goes for Kidman and Skarsgård, who play mother and son this time around, rather than wife and husband (Big Little Lies). Anya Taylor-Joy is good as Olga of the Birch Forest, though strangely sidelined, and Claes Bang gives the standout performance as Fjölnir the Brotherless (they all have names like that).
Though famous faces are an extra barrier to believability, it’s not entirely their fault, but that Skarsgård’s character’s single dimension is vengeance. It’s a motivation as old as time and as tired too, one that serves less as a character trait than a plot driver. The revenge and honor theme is presented with such self-seriousness that it’s often hard to take seriously.
While the film seems to be aiming for Shakespearian tragedy, there isn’t enough internal conflict in Amleth (Skarsgård, the northman) for the tragedy to have any heft, and the plot is merely predictable rather than carrying the dread of impending inevitability.
The way people talked about The Northman was like it was a blistering bludgeon of a movie, its violence matched only by is psychedelic bravado. While those elements are present, I was surprised to find that Eggers kept to his slow, contemplative style, making a fairly straightforward tale of revenge punctuated by weird and brutal beauty.
There’s a very important scene where Amleth and the film are given the choice to change, to diverge from fate and the predetermined structures of plot, to make and be something new. I’m a little surprised Amleth and Eggers took the safe, well-trod, but “cooler” route. It might be Eggers’ first film where style takes precedence over substance, rather than them working in conjunction. Still, I’d take a hundred of The Northman over the 10th sequel to a “magic man saves the world” movie any day.
