INSOMNIA (Skjoldbjaerg, 1997)
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 22, 2014
Review by Christopher S. Long
Arthouse audiences are accustomed to
seeing sheaths of white in Scandinavian films, but in Erik
Skjoldbjaerg's debut feature “Insomnia” (1997) there are no
scenic snow-covered fjords, only waves upon waves of invasive
sunlight. The film is set in the director's hometown of Tromsø,
Norway, well north of the Arctic Circle where the sun blazes brightly
at midnight during the late spring and summer, a natural phenomenon
to which locals have adapted but which often provides a crippling
impediment to visitors.
Hotshot Swedish police inspector Jonas
Engstrom (Stellan Skarsgård)
is certainly caught off guard by the spectacle of daytime all the
time. Engstrom has been called in to investigate the murder of a
17-year-old girl. He readily assumes control of the city's
constabulary who are apparently ill-equipped to deal with murder
cases, but cannot control the sun. No matter how much masking tape he
applies to the shades in his hotel room, the sun's rays always find a
way to seep in, keeping him wide awake and increasingly disoriented
and agitated.
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Lost in a fog |
Engstrom's restlessness stems from more
than just the lack of familiar zeitgebers. Though the solution to the
murder case more or less falls into his lap, his inability to
maintain his bearings causes other matters to spiral rapidly out of
control. During a fog-enshrouded chase after the killer, Engstrom
accidentally shoots his partner Erik (Sverre Anker Ousdal). For
reasons unknown, instead of coming clean he covers up his mistake,
first by remaining silent and then by increasingly outrageous
methods; he even commits one of the ultimate cinematic no-nos (poor
doggie) for a protagonist hoping for at least a smidgeon of audience
sympathy. Skjoldbjaerg and co-writer Nikolaj Frobenius delight in
establishing the good cop and then dismantling his respectable image
piece by piece until it becomes clear the title of the film could
just as well be “The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call – Tromsø.”
“Reasons
unknown” is a key phrase. In the inevitable American remake,
released in 2002 and directed by Christopher Nolan, ample backstory
was added to provide plausible motivations and explanations for every
occurrence in the narrative, highlighting one of the traditional
differences between European arthouse and American commercial cinema.
Skjoldbjaerg provides a few hints (a snippet of gossip from the
Norwegian cops suggests a disgrace that led to Engstrom's exile from
Sweden) but focuses almost exclusively on what instead of why, a wise
decision that generates a sense of enigma in an otherwise
straightforward mystery in which we learn whodunnit with surprising
ease.
Former
film student Skjoldbjaerg indulges his cinephilia with abandon,
turning veteran cinematographer Erling Thurmann-Andersen loose to
sculpt moody, off-kilter compositions for no obvious reason other than that
they look really cool; a brief tunnel chase doesn't look particularly
convincing, but as one of the few moments of darkness amidst the
oppressive brightness it's a welcome counterpoint. If the scene calls
to mind the sewers of Carol Reed's “The Third Man” it also serves
as a reminder that Orson Welles never let narrative plausibility
stand in the way of a really groovy shot.
The
final act becomes increasingly incoherent, partly attributable to the
sleep-deprived Engstrom's increasing detachment from reality though
also perhaps to an inability to come up with a more elegant
resolution to a sleek setup. It doesn't matter much, though. This is
a movie about bright white light and the eerie blue that sunlight
registers as on tungsten film stock. Skjoldbjaerg calls it an
inversion of the film noir, a film blanc in which sunlight serves the
traditional role of darkness, the encroaching brightness that
threatens to overwhelm every scene and inevitably claims its doomed
victims. You might call it a gimmick, but it's a good one.
Video:
The
film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. “Insomnia”
was one of the earlier Criterion Collection releases (it maintains
Spine Number 47) at a time when their SD transfers were usually good
compared to peers but not up to more recent standards. I don't have
the original SD release as a point of comparison but I am not
surprised to read other reviews that suggest it looked heavily
boosted; the prominence of bright white in many scenes is a challenge
for any digital transfer. This high-def transfer shows no evidence of
such problems with a clean, sharp image that looks naturalistic and
beautifully preserves the most blown-out patches of sunlight in each
scene.
This
is a dual-format release with a single DVD and a single Blu-ray. The
SD transfer has not been reviewed here.
Audio:
The
DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 track is pretty straightforward, crisp but
not notably dynamic. Optional English subtitles support the Norwegian
and Swedish dialogue. Scandinavian speakers no doubt appreciate the
film's interplay between the two languages (the locals cannot
understand Engstrom's Swedish) which sound all too similar to
American ears (much to the disbelief of my Norwegian friend Sylvi
Jane who simply could not believe I couldn't tell the difference).
Extras:
The
original SD release only had a Trailer and a TV spot. This 2014
release isn't loaded but at least offers a few more features.
A
new conversation (2014, 21 min.) between Skarsgård and Skjoldbjaerg
discusses the genesis of the film (the script was developed over
about five years) and the director's conception of the film as an
inversion of film noir.
Skjoldbjaerg
was the first Norwegian student to attend The National Film and
Television School in London where he graduated in 1994. The disc
includes two of the rather lengthy short film he made there: “Near
Winter” (1993, 34 min.) and “Close to Home” (1994, 30 min.) I
have not had a chance to watch either of them.
We
also get a Trailer (1 min.)
The
slim insert booklet features an essay by critic Jonathan Romney.
Final Thoughts:
It's
never a good idea to risk the wrath of the Nolanistas, but if you're
debating between the two versions of “Insomnia,” I can state with
confidence that the original absolutely blows away the American
remake. Skjoldbjaerg's unique take on the crime/noir genre can be
confusing at times and leaves an awful lot of small questions
unanswered, and that's a big part of what makes it so compelling.
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