Written by Jax Warner. Photographs by Miha Palancha.
The second day of the SCAD Savannah Film Festival brought “Fjord” to the big screen, a family drama from director Cristian Mungiu that arrives with one of the most impressive resumes of the year. After winning the Palms d’Or at the 2026 Cannes Film Festival, alongside additional prizes, the film entered this year’s festival circuit with considerable critical attention. Starring Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve, “Fjord” examines the uneasy space between cultural differences, parental authority, and a community’s responsibility to protect its children. Despite its prestigious accolades and strong performances, the film was sadly not quite what I was expecting.
Mungiu’s latest follows a Romanian-Norwegian family whose move to a remote Norwegian village puts their deeply held beliefs under scrutiny. When concerns arise about the children’s upbringing, the family finds itself caught between its own understanding of parental responsibility and the expectations of the surrounding community. It is the kind of morally complicated story that has become a signature of Mungiu’s filmmaking, and one that clearly resonated with the Cannes jury. The film’s reception also reflects the kind of challenging, divisive cinema that can inspire admiration without necessarily winning over every viewer.
There is plenty to admire in Mungiu’s film, particularly the way it observes the small, uncomfortable moments that reveal more about a family dynamic than any dramatic confrontation. Stan and Reinsve are excellent opposite one another, creating a convincing relationship between two parents navigating a world that casts rising judgements against them. Their performances give the film much more of its tension, allowing the audience to see the people behind the controversy rather than simply the arguments surrounding them.
The film’s treatment of the children is equally compelling. The relationships that develop between the two families feel natural, particularly the friendship between Elia and Noora. What I appreciated most was that their dynamic never felt like a story about one girl rescuing another. Instead, it was Noora who found herself drawn toward Elia, creating a relationship that felt more mutual and unexpected than the familiar coming-of-age dynamic I might have anticipated. Their connection offers some of the film’s most affecting moments, including a sequence involving walking on water that captures the strange, almost dreamlike quality of childhood belief.
These quieter scenes are where “Fjord” really shines. They provide glimpses of tenderness and wonder amid a story increasingly concerned with judgement, suspicion, and the limits of personal freedom. The film does not need to spell out every emotion for its characters to communicate something meaningful. Sometimes, a glance or a shared moment between the children says more than the arguments happening around them.
That restraint also makes the film’s court scenes particularly effective. Their almost clinical atmosphere feels like a deliberate opposition to the more intimate, emotionally complicated scenes elsewhere. The sterile proceedings reduce deeply personal relationships to questions of evidence, rules, and responsibility. Against the breathtaking Norwegian landscape and the messy realities of family life, the courtrooms feel cold and impersonal. The contrast is striking, especially as the film asks the audience to consider where protecting children ends and imposing a set of cultural values begins.
Language also plays an important role in establishing that divide. Moving between Romanian, Norwegian, and English, “Fjord” allows cultural differences to emerge through the characters’ own perspectives rather than relying entirely on exposition. The differences between Norway and Romania are particularly apparent in the way parents understand their responsibilities and interpret the world around them. Neither country exists merely as a backdrop; each shapes the assumptions the characters bring into their relationships. The multilingual dialogue makes those differences feel lived-in, even when the characters struggle to understand one another.
Still, I found myself wishing “Fjord” were shorter At 146 minutes (2 hours 26 minutes), the film occasionally circles its central question longer than necessary. Its deliberate pacing suits the subject matter, but some of the extended confrontations feel less compelling than the small, intimate moments surrounding them. Those are the scenes that stayed with me long after the film ended.
That is ultimately what makes my reaction to “Fjord” so complicated. I admired its performances, its visual contrasts, and its willingness to sit with the uncomfortable questions without offering easy answers. I loved the girls’ relationship, the subtle differences in how the parents see the world, and the little flashes of humanity that break through the film’s heavier material. Yet the admiration did not always translate into the emotional experience I had hoped for.
As the second day of the SCAD Savannah Film Festival continued, “Fjord’ offered plenty to think about, even if it did not entirely win me over. Its Cannes success is understandable: this is an ambitious film that refuses to simplify the complicated questions at its center. For me, however, its greatest strength lies in the spaces between its arguments, where the characters are allowed to simply exist with one another. I only wish the film had trusted those moments to speak for themselves a little more often.
