Hamsun

To put it nice and simple, this movie is wonderful.

Von Sydow delivers a performance worth of every Award on Earth, Ghita Norby as Hamsun's wife is also splendid, the movie is written and directed with a nice but firm hand, even on the most unpleasant portions of Hamsun's life.

Knut Hamsun had a controversial and tormented relationship with everything and everyone in his life, as self-centered as he was. The stigma of the true genius indeed.

His sympathy for Nazism caused him a lot of troubles when the war ended and Norway was free from the Nazi occupation and from the collaborationist government.

Hamsun's previous opinions, albeit somewhat changed as the Germans were showing their true colours, still were enough to get him accused of treason. After the trial and an humiliating detention in a mental hospital, Hamsun got labeled as "insane", despite still managed to write a sharp and honest apologetic memoir, at 90 years of age.

The movie capture all of that, with a level of immersion that is truly engaging and astonishing. And side-by-side with Hamsun's public success and subsequent downfall, we follow the downfall of his personal life, to a point where public and private become one.

As said, acting is nothing short of brilliant

The only, marginal, problem is the language... Everyone speaks Norwegian, while Hamsun and his wife speak Swedish and Danish. It's a tad weird hearing arguably the best Norwegian author in history and his wife talking to each other in a different language (neither of them being their actual one).

But in all honesty, if the lack of language consistency was the price to pay to get such a good performance, I would gladly have Hamsun and Marie speaking French...

FINAL VERDICT: Hamsun is graceful and brutal at the same time. A true gem.

The movie is an exquisite and deeply layered biographical drama that delves into the life of a towering figure in literature, whose legacy remains controversial due to his staunch allegiance to Nazi Germany during World War II. The film, starring the legendary Max von Sydow in the title role, is not just a historical account but a masterful character study that examines the intricate and often contradictory nature of its protagonist, Knut Hamsun. This context of the war adds a dark and profound backdrop to the narrative, as it explores how ideological conviction during one of the most catastrophic conflicts in history can blind individuals to the devastating consequences of their actions.

Directed by Jan Troell, who also serves as the film's cinematographer, the movie crafts a visual aesthetic that is both stark and poetic. The use of natural lighting and carefully composed frames immerses the audience in the early 20th-century Scandinavian landscape, reflecting both the external historical context of Nazi occupation and the internal conflicts of the characters. The cold, muted color palette evokes the emotional detachment and turmoil of Hamsun's later years, while moments of warmth and vibrancy punctuate key relationships, particularly between Hamsun and his wife, Marie (Ghita Nørby).

Troell's cinematography strikes a perfect balance between intimacy and grandeur. Close-up shots allow us to witness every flicker of doubt, pride, or despair in von Sydow's mesmerizing performance, while expansive landscape shots place these personal struggles within the broader socio-political upheaval of World War II. The conflict is not merely a historical backdrop but a key element that influences the personal choices and ideological battles of the characters. The war's shadow looms large over Hamsun's career, as his support for Nazi Germany tarnishes his once-revered intellectual reputation, making his ideological journey even more tragic and poignant.

Max von Sydow delivers one of his finest performances as Knut Hamsun. His portrayal is a masterclass in subtlety, capturing the novelist's intellectual arrogance, vulnerability, and eventual disillusionment with extraordinary depth. Von Sydow embodies Hamsun's contradictions: a man of deep convictions, yet one blinded by his own ideals, leading him to a tragic downfall. His unflinching support of Nazi Germany-despite the war's atrocities-reflects a moral blindness that deeply contradicts the humanism often found in his literary work. This ideological stubbornness ultimately leads Hamsun to face both personal and public disgrace.

Equally impressive is Ghita Nørby as Marie Hamsun. As Hamsun's wife, she provides an emotional counterpoint to his aloofness. Her performance is fiery and passionate, portraying Marie as a fiercely independent and politically engaged woman who, unlike her husband, fully embraces Nazism. Her character's unwavering support for the Third Reich, in contrast to Hamsun's more complex, conflicted stance, highlights the divisiveness of the war within personal relationships. The dynamic between von Sydow and Nørby is electric; their interactions feel lived-in, raw, and painfully authentic. Their marriage becomes a microcosm of the broader ideological war, torn apart by their political differences.

The supporting cast also shines, with nuanced performances that avoid caricature. The film refrains from reducing historical figures to one-dimensional villains or heroes, opting instead for a nuanced portrayal of the political and personal complexities of the era. The film's treatment of the Second World War is particularly striking; it does not shy away from exposing the moral failings of those who sided with Nazi Germany, showing the devastating human cost of their ideological convictions. This is not a straightforward narrative of good versus evil but a meditation on the blurred lines that were often present during the war.

Jan Troell's direction is deliberate and restrained, allowing the film to unfold like a literary novel rather than a conventional biopic. Instead of providing clear moral judgments, Hamsun challenges the audience to grapple with the contradictions of its central figure. The pacing is methodical, immersing viewers in Hamsun's world without rushing through historical events. This slow-burn approach might not cater to audiences seeking fast-moving political drama, but it serves the film's introspective and philosophical nature well. The film's restrained narrative gives it the space to explore the broader impact of World War II on both individuals and societies, touching on themes of loyalty, betrayal, and the devastating effects of war on intellectual and artistic figures.

The screenplay skillfully balances historical accuracy with dramatic interpretation. The dialogue is thoughtful and evocative, with much of the film's power deriving from the unsaid-the glances, the hesitations, the spaces between words. The script refuses to spoon-feed its audience, trusting viewers to engage with the moral and psychological dilemmas at play, especially as the war's realities become undeniable. Hamsun's eventual trial for his wartime associations becomes a crucial moment in the film, representing not only the reckoning of a man but also the reckoning of an entire generation's choices during the war.

The film's sound design is subtle yet effective. There is an almost meditative use of silence, emphasizing the isolation and alienation Hamsun experiences as his world unravels. The musical score is sparingly used, allowing moments of quiet tension to carry their own weight. When music does appear, it enhances the film's melancholic and introspective tone without overwhelming the narrative.

Beyond its biographical focus, Hamsun explores themes of artistic genius, moral blindness, and the consequences of ideological rigidity. It does not attempt to exonerate Hamsun for his actions, nor does it reduce him to a villain. Instead, it presents a portrait of a man who, despite his literary brilliance, failed to grasp the full ramifications of his political choices until it was too late. The film underscores the personal and societal consequences of the war, illustrating the ways in which political allegiance during such a destructive time could lead to moral and personal destruction.

The film also serves as a meditation on aging, regret, and the loss of relevance. Hamsun, once a revered intellectual, finds himself increasingly alienated from the world he helped shape, ultimately standing trial for his wartime associations. This sense of diminishing power is captured poignantly in von Sydow's performance, making Hamsun as much a tragedy of personal downfall as it is a historical drama. Through this lens, the film becomes a powerful commentary on the cost of ideological inflexibility during one of history's most harrowing conflicts, offering a poignant reflection on the moral choices made by those who lived through the Second World War.

First of all I'd like to say that this movie was more exciting than I would have thought it to be in the start. Which is always a plus. In the beginning it was odd to me that Knut Hamsun were played by a Swedish actor and his wife Marie Hamsun were played by a Danish actor. But to tell you the truth, after a while you hardly noticed the language difference. And they could probably not have found a better Knut and Marie for this movie. The movie starts right before the second world war, and the 'action' in it is mostly about the Hamsun family's life during the second world war and afterwards. It was kind sad that the movie started so late in Hamsun's life, seeing that he was around the age of 80 (?) in the war years. Because Knut Hamsun had an utterly exciting life before that, and the most of his writings were written before that. It was confusing to me who his kids were at times, seeing that they weren't introduced to us that well. This is a great movie about an Norwegian author who rather took side with the Germans during the second world war, since he despited the English. Or was he on the German side? this movie takes up this dilemma, which no one yet can be a 100% sure about. But just remember. This movie only takes the Last years of Knut Hamsun's life. You should know a few things about his life before this, if you want to understand the movie properly.

One of the elements that make this film one of the most fascinating ever made is the use of language... while Knut and Marie Hamsun were Norwegians, Max von Sydow and Ghita Nørby speak Swedish and Danish respectively throughout the movie. To those not well-versed in Scandinavian languages, there is a very big difference. Most Swedes cannot understand more than 20% of spoken Danish and perhaps 60% of Norwegian. To make the comparison easier to grasp, imagine a Spanish movie where the main characters speak Portuguese and Italian. I don't know why this linguistic device was used, but the effect is remarkable. At first I figured it was a way to distance Norwegians from the main characters whom were regarded as traitors, but that theory doesn't hold since the character who plays Quisling (the man who "sold" Nazism to many Norwegians) speaks Norwegian throughout the film.

Trivia: throughout Scandinavia the name "Quisling" is not just synonymous with "back-stabber"... it has actually become a commonplace word and is found in most dictionaries. It is comparative to the phrase "his name is Mudd" in the U.S.

Out of all the countless films and shows I've watched over the course of my life, there's barely a single one that felt like such an obvious insult to any reasonable viewer and reason itself.

Written by one of europes most notorious rad-fems (a man btw), this film seems to be some kind of attempt to "deconstruct" Hamsun as a person by people who seemingly hated him and had him live rentfree in their head for decades.

The film isn't called "Knut Hamsun" but "Hamsun" for a reason. It's all about his wife and written from her radical feminist, jealous, bitter and angry perspective (allthough his children and every other living being seem to hate him as well in this fever dream of a film).

The whole thing is an almost Ibsen-like (that's an insult) moral play, superficial, one-sided and always playing/turning men and women against each other.

You have to search with a magnifying glas in order to find one single scene that is at least somewhat realistic or one that doesn't just exist in order to stamp on Hamsuns grave when he can't defend himself.

It doesn't take a Hamsun fan, nor an academic who dedicated himself to Hamsun for a long time (like me) in order to see through this film after just 5 minutes.

Ironicly, the more the film tries to throw dirt on Hamsun, the more likable and human he gets. Especially since he's literally the only person in the film who isn't driven by obsessive, pathological moralism and self-righteousness.

All that said, I want to end this review with a friendly suggestion: Whatever you do, read the books of a writer for gods sake, not books about him. And avoid films about him since they are mostly too flattering or evil-spirited anyway.