Oh, brother, is ‘The Last Viking’ fabulous
Some of the best films about autism aren’t about autism. They’re more autism adjacent. And of late, there have been a trio of such gems in “The Stranger,” “I Swear,” and perhaps the best of them all, Anders Thomas Jensen’s “The Last Viking.” It stars the incomparable Mads Mikkelsen and his frequent sidekick, Nikolaj Lie Kaas, as estranged siblings driven apart by long-suppressed trauma emanating from their youth. Only now, decades later, is it rising to the fore, as events force them to confront these latencies in the name of self-preservation and monetary riches.
This is the seventh collaboration between the Danish writer-director and his two stars, and possibly the best, as they join forces to explore not just the dynamics of a wildly dysfunctional family, but also the fluidity of identity. Are we who we want to be? Or, is our essence rooted in how we’re seen by others? A little deep for a comedy as surreal as this one, but Jensen deftly pulls it off by never losing sight of the underlying humanity.
The tone is decidedly satirical, but it’s also profound and ultimately stirring. As Jim Morrison famously noted, “People are strange when you’re a stranger.” And there are few stranger than Mikkelsen’s curly-locked Manfred, a towering dirty-blonde manchild whose quirks are innumerable. They can be particularly irksome for someone as impatient and perpetually angry as his older, neurotypical brother, Anker (Kaas). Communicating with Manfred has always been difficult, but more so now, when it’s never been this vital. And it’s in that inability to break through where much of the humor is derived, dark as it may be.
As kids, seen in flashbacks, Manfred (Joel Hesse Johansen) and Anker (Alfred Røssel Læsø) were thick as thieves, with Anker often forced to defend his neurodivergent brother from schoolyard bullies and an intolerant father (Lars Ranthe) incapable of accepting that his youngest dressed the part of an ax-wielding, horn-helmeted Viking. But after their old man met a gruesome end, the brothers drifted apart, with Manfred’s dissociative identity disorder growing more acute and Anker’s inescapable guilt manifesting into a life of crime.
It’s Anker we meet first, observing him stuffing a satchel full of cash into a storage locker. The key to which he entrusts to Manfred, who is to bury the 2 million kroner near their childhood home. Now, 15 years later, Anker returns from prison to reclaim the dough, only to discover Manfred is no longer Manfred.
Nope. He’s now going by the moniker of John Lennon. Yes, that John Lennon, even though, as Anker points out, Manfred doesn’t even possess the right eyewear. Nor can he play the guitar or, for that matter, sing. But don’t tell Manfred. And most assuredly, do not address him as anything but John. If you do, he’s liable to dive through the nearest window or leap from a moving vehicle.
He also refuses to disclose the location of the buried treasure. Thus, spurring Anker to summon Manfred’s shrink, Lothar (Lars Brygmann), who leaps at the opportunity to prove his theory that Manfred can nix his Lennon fixation by “reuniting” the Beatles. To that end, he summons a patient identifying as Ringo (Peter Düring) and another (Kardo Razzazi) who believes he’s both Paul and George, depending on the mood. Or, when he’s not adopting the persona of Björn from ABBA.
To facilitate this “reunion,” all the parties convene in the Danish countryside at Anker and Manfred’s childhood home, now an Airbnb owned by the equally eccentric Werner (Søren Malling), a failed fashion designer and wannabe children’s book author, and his wife, Freja (Bodil Jørgensen), a plain Jane who looks in the mirror and sees Margot Robbie.
Thus, the stage is set for an enjoyable, offbeat fable wrapped up inside a weird allegory, albeit an ultra-bloody one, that culminates with Manfred trading his trusted ax for an ax, as in an electric guitar. I know, the plot is bonkers, but that’s sort of the point of a movie that defies convention to embrace the misfit in all of us. I can relate. Having ASD, I’ve often felt like Manfred, ostracized and misunderstood. And like Manfred, I learned long ago that how others judge you is of no importance. It’s what I think of me that matters, a notion Jensen unsentimentally champions in celebrating the joys of being odd.
And he does it without striking a false note, except possibly when the faux Fab Four begin to play in their rudimentary Sgt. Peppers uniforms, courtesy of Werner. Even then, the mangled chords and off-key voices emit an air of sweetness. Ditto for the film and its evolving rhythms, bouncing from the absurd to the bizarre to the profound, stanzas tied together by a bridge into Quentin Tarantino territory. Most notably, when Anker’s former partner in crime, the menacing Flemming (Nicolas Bro), shows up uninvited to claim his share of the lost treasure. And as such, putting Anker in grave danger, as well as Manfred and their mousy sister, Margrethe (Sofie Gråbøl).
The entire ensemble is superb, but it’s Kaas emerging as the unlikeliest hero. It’s not easy playing straight man to a collection of kooks nursing various neuroses, especially when your character is capable of being this mean and cruel. Nonetheless, Kaas wins you over by revealing slivers of compassion as Anker rushes to his brother’s defense time after time. Theirs is a devout, albeit volatile, kinship that sneaks up on you with its innate power.
Jensen (“Men & Chicken,” “Riders of Justice”) follows a similarly tricky path, jesting at mental illness. He succeeds by demanding warmth and affability from his actors, ensuring that we’re always laughing with them, not at them. That’s particularly true of Mikkelsen, who has made a career out of playing heavies, be it a Bond villain in “Casino Royale” or a cannibalistic murderer in TV’s “Hannibal.” That’s part of why his heartfelt portrayal of Manfred/John is so disarming, as he effectively calls into question that most arbitrary of words, “normal.”
Who’s to say what is or isn’t normal? And isn’t it those anomalies in personality that make the world an infinitely more interesting place? It’s a poignant moral that Jensen, an Oscar winner for his 1998 live-action short “Election Night,” cleverly underscores by bookending his film with an animated, Viking-themed fairy tale illustrating the lethality of conformity. It’s killer. So is his lovely, gorgeously rendered parable that’s every bit as complex as it is silly. And don’t be surprised if it conquers you as it did me. After all, that’s what Vikings do. Isn’t it?
Movie review
The Last Viking
Rated: Not rated
Cast: Mads Mikkelsen, Nikolaj Lie Kaas, Sofie Gråbøl, Lars Brygmann, Bodil Jørgensen, Nicolas Bro, Kardo Razzazi, Søren Malling and Lars Ranthe
Director: Anders Thomas Jensen
Writer: Anders Thomas Jensen
Runtime: 106 minutes
Where: In theaters May 29 (limited) and on streaming
Grade: B+
