The Northman

The word "epic" is fitting for The Northman. Not in the way movies like Ben-Hur or Cleopatra would be called epic -- big budget showcases of costuming, pageantry, audacious set design, and classic Hollywood showmanship. No, The Northman is epic according to the classic definition; a long narrative poem telling the story of some hero, either legendary or historic. There is definitely a poetry the telling of the story of The Northman. It is a simple and familiar story -- a young Viking prince is driven into exile and seeks revenge for the murder of his father the king by the king's uncle. If you know your Shakespeare, it's more or less Hamlet (the main character, Amleth, is thought to be an inspiration for Hamlet). If not, you may also recognize story beats in the form of The Lion King. Neither of those have the epic scale of The Northman. There is something about this story and the way it is relayed in this movie that makes it feel so much more grand, so much larger and important, even though most of the events take place on a small farm. Robert Eggers continues to show why he is a captivating director in so many ways, a director whose name now sells me on the movie more than the movie itself. Even though his two movies before this -- The Witch and The Lighthouse -- have their own distinct visual style that fits the movies, it isn't hard to see that those two and this movie all came from the same mind. The Northman is a visual feast at all times, using light, shadow, color saturation, and angles to their fullest extent, but never in a flashy way. Every choice feels natural and deliberate, designed to give the scene an underscoring that can only be done visually. This extends to the score, which seeks to replicate ancient Nordic folk music and either uses appropriate instruments or simulates them. This easily could've been some 60-piece orchestral score, and it would've been fine, but it also would've been so Hollywood. By having the score be influenced by the time and the culture in both style and sound, it draws the viewer that much further into the proceedings. Every member of the cast is outstanding here. I could list every supporting actor here, but I would just be repeating myself with how many times I say they all do a great job. But the movie truly belongs to the two leads, Alexander Skarsgård as Amleth, and Anya Taylor-Joy as Olga. Taylor-Joy is incapable of a bad performance, and this is no exception. She brings so many shades to Olga; a steely defiance in the face of danger, passion, sorrow, and determination. She never once feels like a damsel in need of saving or a bit player in Amleth's journey, and that is in large part because of Taylor-Joy's performance. She brings more human emotion to balance the rage and all-consuming vengeance that gives Skarsgård's Amleth a reason to live. And Skarsgård does a fantastic job in his own right. Amleth could've easily been nothing more than a blustering rage-monster, stomping his way through the movie like a Viking Jason Voorhees. He's not. He's a patient man, not cunning or clever but smart, and his lust for revenge is fueled by a love of his mother (who is now married to his father's murderer) and father. As his bond with Olga goes from convenient co-conspirator to something more, he is given more purpose, and a conflicting one to boot. Skarsgård keeps Amleth grounded in humanity. The only dings in the armor I could levy are the movie possibly being too long by 10-20 minutes, although I'm not sure where anything could be cut. It also occasionally strives to have some kind of profundity, and it's just not in the movie's wheelhouse. These are minor flaws, though, and should deter no one from seeing this magnificent movie. This was a thoroughly engaging movie that, for me, solidifies Robert Eggers as a director whose name is as important to a movie as any other element in it. Fortunately, The Northman has a lot more going for it than just Eggers; fantastic performances, an entrancing score, amazing visuals, and a simple but effective story straight out of mythology, from an era and a culture too often ignored in the movies.