Phoenix Review

Horrible feelings of domestic dread permeate the first part of Phoenix, a small drama about a broken family. Events unfold predominantly through the eyes of Jill (Thedin), who is about to turn 14 and just wants stability and happiness, whatever the reality might be. Her mother Astrid (Maria Bonnevie) is a depressed drunk, and anyone who’s had to deal with someone lost to an unbreakable downward cycle will relate to Phoenix’s effective portrayal of near constant fear, where every minor disappearance or switch in behaviour sets off immediate panic. It’s tough to endure, certainly for a 13-year-old understandably ill-equipped to deal with such domestic carnage.

The Norwegian film is mostly about delusion, about people kidding themselves for various reasons – some coping mechanisms, some selfish manipulations. As things fall apart, Jill puts her shields up and her blinkers on, looking for a different truth while creating lies of her own, the mounting revelations and neglect precipitating a sharp loss of innocence. This is Phoenix’s backbone and it’s a worthwhile exploration, well-played by an emotive Thedin. Alas, there is some plot padding that falls short. Whereas Astrid is afforded dimension and shade, Jill’s father (Sverrir Gudnason) is sadly stock, his journey signposted from the start. Henriksen’s story also runs out of steam, the writer/director intentionally dialling back the tension. As such the film becomes less engaging as it goes on – after its strong opening it just doesn’t hit as hard as you’d want.

This feels like a short story, fleshed out to feature-length, mildly flailing about as it searches for a conclusion while denying itself much resolution. There is also a brief supernatural strand, which makes sense narratively but adds nothing cinematically, and feels superficial. Yet you stay with the film, because it means it. It’s a tender piece of work, warmly shot by cinematographer Ragna Jorming, and Thedin is brilliant, carrying it all, with a spirit that lingers.