2026 is slowly revealing itself as the year of thorny, divisive movies. It started off early and simple with A24’s The Drama, morphed into the much more polarizing Digger, and now sees filmmaker Cristian Mungiu’s Fjord enter the chat. The Palme d’Or winner is about as prickly as movies come; not only in what it presents in its rather unlikeable characters and knotty moral unearthings, but more so in what it doesn’t present in the form of no clear answer as to how a person, or family, should navigate the outcome of polarizing cultural viewpoints.

Lisbet (Renate Reinsve) and Mihai Gheorghiu (Sebastian Stan), after recently moving from their home in Romania to a small Norwegian town, hope the saying “it takes a village to raise a child” becomes their reality. Settling in with their five children – a newborn that Lisbet is still breastfeeding, two pre-teens, and two teenagers – the Gheorghiu family quickly encounter the epitome of nosy neighbor energy, except it’s a nosy village. As the avalanches descend through the icy mountains around the town, so do the moral avalanches of Lisbet and Mihai’s familial traditions and expectations.

They are far more conservative than their more progressive neighbors. They incorporate prayers as a daily ritual. They do Bible Study every Sunday and keep track of which kids participate correctly using a point system. They also don’t allow their children modern distractions like YouTube or phones. All of this is completely normal to the Gheorghiu family, who have raised their family in Romania with not so much as a turned head from that community. However, when Ella (Vanessa Ceban) shows up to school one day with a bruise, the slippery slope of their parenting style enters the cultural spin cycle.

Le Pacte

Scrutinized by school staff and local law enforcement, Mihai admits to the occasional “slap” on the butt as punishment. Lisbet also admits to pushing her children out of the way to avoid blistering hot water in the kitchen. From this point, Fjord really sinks its cold, distant teeth in, becoming a principled puzzle of “what should be” versus “what is.” The children are effectively taken away from Lisbet and Mihai, and the film turns from a family drama into a courtroom drama, taking advantage of its vast scope or small, successful decisions such as Mihai’s inability to understand everything being said around him due to his language barrier.

While the film can lean toward theory over practice at times, Mungiu deploys consistently sharp and daming writing to further twist the knife of Fjord’s sharpest political and cultural examinations. Reinsve and Stan act as the two blades of a bitter, razor-sharp set of scissors, staying distant and frigid, only to grow closer and deliver a pernicious pinch when needed. Reinsve has quickly established herself as one of the most intriguing actors of the 2020s, culminating in an Academy Award nomination last year for her performance in Sentimental Value. Fjord continues her run of creative choices, delivering a calculated performance that thrives on interiority.

Likewise, Stan is at an all-time best with his performance. His stoic, frigid nature is a phenomenal antithesis to the rage and frustration that inundate him as the film progresses. Through body language, Stan is pointed and powerful, keeping the audience a chilly arm’s length away from not only him, but each character. He isn’t likable, and ultimately, that’s why Fjord is as prosperous as it is. It is easy to root for people you like and hope the best happens to them, but much harder to do for people you are potentially at moral and ethical odds with. As it refuses to answer its own question, the film isn’t necessarily about what you think is right or wrong, but instead about how much more difficult it is to practice what you preach for or with those who believe in different things than you do.

Without spoiling the story, the final frame of Fjord has been burned into my head since seeing it at the start of press screenings at the New York Film Festival. One that feels both earned and mysterious, that can, depending on how you view the sticky thematic elements of the movie, recontextualize everything for you. And one that is definitely up for interpretation. Where religion, responsibility, and the strings of small-town cultural fabric become damaged, or even break, are all things the film investigates, and does so in a challenging fashion. 

The film, and Cristian Mungiu, for that matter, don’t have answers. They merely ask the questions, forcing us to ascertain an answer for ourselves. And in 2026, a movie that tasks the audience with such a duty can be divisive. But alas, some of the best movies of the year, and all time, are. Fjord is no different.

Review Courtesy of Ethan Simmie

Feature Image Credit to Le Pacte