The Last Viking (2025)

Anders Thomas Jensen, a filmmaker renowned for his distinctive blend of dark humor, profound pathos, and eccentric characters, returns with "The Last Viking," a character study that delves into the complexities of subjective reality and familial bonds. Operating in a register reminiscent of his earlier, more grounded work like "Adam's Apples," Jensen crafts a narrative populated by lovable eccentrics, where the most seemingly stable individual is a former bank robber grappling with severe anger management issues.

The film opens with a striking animated prologue, a Nordic fairy tale depicting valiant warriors, embodying beauty, ferocity, and strength. This idyllic portrayal takes a dark turn when the king's son, having lost an arm and thus feeling disadvantaged, decrees that all his subjects must also suffer the loss of an arm. His rationale: to maintain equality and, consequently, collective happiness. The underlying message, taken to absurd and bloody extremes within the fable, is the inherent folly of such a notion. This bloody, cautionary tale serves as a potent prelude to the film's thematic explorations, neatly encapsulating its core ideas.

Jensen, a master at assembling his trusted ensemble of actors, brings together a familiar troupe including Nikolaj Lie Kaas, Nicolas Bro, and Mads Mikkelsen, alongside other talented performers, to form another of his signature ad hoc communes of peculiar individuals. Within this curated world, Jensen probes the nature of the subjective realities we all navigate, and at times, embrace, particularly in the current hyper-stimulated and individualistic cultural landscape.

At the heart of "The Last Viking" is Manfred, a man characterized by his meekness and deep-seated damage. His coping mechanism for the world is a potent cocktail of fantasy and extreme overcompensation. As a child, Manfred adopted a Viking persona, a choice that led to him and his brother enduring bullying, thereby sowing significant discord between them. In adulthood, Manfred now identifies as John Lennon, despite his inability to play the guitar or afford the iconic circular glasses that defined the Beatles frontman. Should anyone, especially his brother, attempt to breach Manfred's self-constructed sanctuary of delusion, he reacts with alarming impulsivity, willing to hurl himself from moving vehicles or through windows onto stationary cars without a second thought. Manfred also harbors a peculiar habit of appropriating other people's dogs, a detail that, while intriguing, is a narrative thread left to unfold separately.

For audiences accustomed to seeing Mads Mikkelsen embody formidable figures such as Bond villains, powerful wizards, cultured cannibals, or brilliant strategists behind the Death Star, witnessing his uninhibited performances in Danish-language films is a consistent delight. His portrayal of Manfred is a testament to his remarkable versatility, showcasing a mode of performance unique even for an actor of his caliber. Here, with a disheveled, curly haircut and a hunched posture, Mikkelsen embodies a profoundly broken man whose pathologies are the driving force of the plot, even as they relentlessly frustrate those around him. Manfred resides with his sister, Freja (Bodil Jørgensen), awaiting the release of his brother, Anker (Nikolaj Lie Kaas), who has been incarcerated for bank robbery.

Fifteen years prior, Anker entrusted Manfred with the key to a safe-deposit box containing a substantial sum of money, hidden on their mother's property. Anker's former accomplice, Flemming (Nicolas Bro, delivering a performance against type as a no-nonsense, violent thug), avoided prison time. He has since squandered his share of the illicit gains, and is now eager to employ brutal methods to extract the remaining half from Anker once he is released.

Upon his parole, Anker returns to the apartment shared by Manfred and Freja. He compels an unwilling Manfred, now identifying as John, to accompany him to their former family home, which has since been converted into an Airbnb. Armed with shovels, Manfred's beleaguered psychiatrist, and a few other patients who believe themselves to be members of The Beatles, ABBA, and even Heinrich Himmler, the stage is set for a cascade of comic chaos that more than lives up to expectations.

As is typical of Jensen's directorial style, a significant undercurrent of pathos and genuine emotion permeates this otherwise bizarre narrative. As the two brothers endeavor to resolve their accumulated baggage, both literal and metaphorical, their ancestral home transforms into a veritable village of eccentrics, punctuated by mangled renditions of pop songs. While the self-proclaimed "Beatles" don their epaulets and prepare for a local talent show, Anker relentlessly digs holes in the woods and upturns furniture within the house, desperately seeking confirmation of the money's whereabouts from Manfred. In this process, both brothers' realities begin to unravel, regressing to the foundational childhood traumas that transpired within those very walls: abandonment issues and other deeply ingrained family secrets that have simultaneously bound Anker, Freja, and Manfred, and driven them into perpetual conflict.

This dynamic provides ample opportunity for a compelling juxtaposition of gentle absurdity with jarring outbursts of socially transgressive meanness, often escalating into serious violence. The film also utilizes the trope of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), also known as Multiple Personality Disorder, not merely as a cinematic device but as a vehicle for genuine emotional catharsis.

The remarkable ability of actors like Mads Mikkelsen and Nikolaj Lie Kaas to navigate the delicate balance between madness, comfort, and the potential for catastrophic injury is a testament to their honed craft. "The Last Viking" stands as one of Jensen's most accomplished films in recent years. Its unique magic lies in the pervasive madness of its characters, which, paradoxically, renders them all endearingly sane within the film's meticulously constructed reality. Jensen's masterful direction elicits laughter, tears, and sheer astonishment, making the execution of such complex comedic storytelling appear effortless. As an added bonus, the film offers an extreme fairy tale and hints at a forthcoming children's book, further extending its imaginative reach.