Number 24 (01.17.25)

 

How far would you go to fight evil? How much of yourself do you give to the effort, and will there be anything left when the struggle is over? For Gunnar Sønsteby, Norwegian war hero, there was only the mission: Disrupt the German occupation of his homeland by any means necessary. This single-mindedness kept him alive and helped enormously in the war effort, but it is the brief moment where he finally lets life in that Number 24 is at its most satisfying.

Number 24 (also referred to as Nr. 24 in various places) is a story told in two eras. The primary focus for much of the film is on Sønsteby as a young man (played by Sjur Vatne Brean) as he sabotages the Nazi occupation of Oslo during World War II, while the elder version (Erik Hivju) narrates things in the 2000s (or possibly the ‘10s). At first I found this framing superfluous; indeed, it has the unfortunate side effect of robbing the WWII story of some of its suspense, as even those who aren’t familiar with the real-life Gunnar Sønsteby can pretty easily conclude that he survives. But by the last few minutes the latter-day story is the emotional driver of the movie as Sønsteby lets his guard down just the one time decades after the war has ended. The film never insinuates that Number 24 (his wartime codename) is anything other than heroic for his inflexible resolve, even when his duty forces him to make the hard choices, but reminds us that life must be lived even while it is being fought for. Number 24 could have done more to make these choices seem more difficult to Gunnar, if anything, but if the actual person didn’t have a hard time with some of his actions then I suppose it would be a disservice to make the fictional version doubt himself.

Number 24 manages to find tension and excitement even with the knowledge that our main character survives. Sjur Vatne Brean gives a strong performance as our main Sønsteby, which was not an easy thing to pull off when stoicism and professionalism are the character’s primary traits. He does not appear to ever open up to anyone, so he never opens up to the audience, but Brean manages to make Gunnar Sønsteby a compelling primary character nonetheless. 

The music choices are interesting if questionable—the use of Radiohead's Exit Music (For a Film) works well emotionally but feels out of place, and the song that plays during the final scene and first batch of credits (I couldn’t find a name) makes the pivotal scene of the elder Sønsteby laying down his war feel a bit corny and saccharine. But Number 24 is an impressive and effective film overall, managing to distill one man’s life (or at least a decent chunk of it) into a succinct and simple message of sacrificing all that one is for the greater purpose of freedom and peace.

Number 24 is now available on Netflix.

 

This review was first published in the Keizertimes on January 17^th, 2025. Visit at www.keizertimes.com.

A Man on the Inside Season 1 (??.??.??)

 

Everyone needs a hobby. Some people collect stamps, some people dabble in petty theft. Some, like Ted Danson's character in A Man on the Inside, check into a retirement home in order to help a private investigator catch someone who’s hobby is dabbling in petty theft. Since Ted Danson and Michael Schur (creator of Parks and Recreation, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, etc.) are involved in this particular set-up you might suspect hilarity, and because Schur also created The Good Place you might further think there would be a good amount of sweetness and sad moments in this new television show as well. If you thought either of these things then congratulations! You might just have the makings of a great detective, because you are correct.  

A Man on the Inside didn’t click for me right away; there are a few lazy jokes in the first couple of episodes that make trite observations such as “older people are generally not great at technology” and “those darn teenagers are always on the internet,” stale takes that don’t exactly speak to good writing. But a rhythm is eventually found, and it’s one that is hard not to dance to. The pacing of the jokes isn’t terribly dense—it's not the kind of show that has a high laughs-per-minute ratio—but they do eventually become more reliable as the plot gets underway and we get to know the characters a bit better.

What A Man on the Inside does particularly well is mix in these funny moments with satisfying emotional ones, be they sanguine, melancholy, or a combination of the two. Michael Schur’s last project, The Good Place, was about death and ultimately being a better person. A Man on the Inside is similarly comfortable going to places that most sitcoms wouldn’t ever want to explore, fearlessly tackling tough subjects such as loneliness, cancer, and dementia. It’s a potent cocktail, and I’m sure it’s not for everyone; A Man on the Inside is not for people that aren’t in the headspace to confront certain sad facts of life in their television.

Don’t get me wrong, the show isn’t a downer by any means. The sadness is always levied by a message that it’s never too late to find joy, and that is something to be appreciated. Ted Danson and his supporting cast (which includes Mary Elizabeth Ellis of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Stephanie Beatriz of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and Sally Struthers of All in the Family and Gilmore Girls) bring to life some truly hilarious moments, yet they never feel like one-dimensional caricatures that only exist when the camera is on them.  The espionage/crime plot that is central to the show is intriguing as well, its low-stake nature being a refreshing flip side of the heavier emotional themes.

A Man on the Inside ultimately makes for a potent emotional cocktail that would make Sam Malone proud. I wonder what that guy is up to these days?

A Man on the Inside season 1 is now available on Netflix.

 

Nosferatu (01.03.25)

 

The story behind 1922's Nosferatu is a fascinating one: as a clear rip-off of Dracula the film lost a lawsuit against Bram Stoker's estate back in the day and was almost wiped from existence as a result, but luckily some copies survived and it is now considered a cinematic classic in its own right. Like Count Orlok the film has proven hard to kill, with the original’s unlikely survival, a remake in 1979, and a remake in late 2024. This last one had a lot to live up to (and die down to?), but thanks to some stunning cinematography, exceptional performances, and a hauntingly beautiful score it is every bit as artistic and beautiful as its previous incarnations.

Vampires have always inexorably been linked with sexual metaphor, and 2024’s Nosferatu makes this much clearer than its predecessors by juxtaposing the blatantly sensual with the very, very gross. It can be an uncomfortable film in that way, but it never loses the beauty that results from some truly impressive filmmaking. The original was, of course, in black and white, and for some reason I expected this one to be as well. The reason for this became clear pretty quickly—there are moments where the 2024 version pays clever tribute to its predecessor by staging certain scenes entirely by moonlight, sapping the surroundings of warmth and giving the illusion of black and white filmmaking. Such interesting tricks give the film a haunting gothic quality that dominates even when color manages to leech in.

The performances in Nosferatu are not terribly subtle but they work. Bill Skarsgard plays the titular creature sublimely, and although it sometimes is a bit hard to understand what he is saying he nails the role just as much as he did Pennywise in the most recent It adaptation. The real star of the show is Lily-Rose Depp as the conflicted and haunted Ellen, a young newlywed tortured by tantalizing visions of Count Orlok. The broad nature of the acting, instead of being hammy, adds to Nosferatu’s feeling of epic tragedy.

The original film is sometimes given the subtitle A Symphony of Horror, and for this reason I paid particularly close attention to the music in the 2024 remake. The score by Robin Carolan is another impressive cog in the well-oiled gothic machine that is Nosferatu, never failing to enhance the horror, drama, and tragedy whenever it is called upon to do so. It is thrilling when all the pieces of a film come together so effortlessly, and Nosferatu is one beautiful puzzle.

The movie does feel a bit over-long in the final act, as if the characters and filmmakers sensed the end approaching and were determined to do everything in their power to procrastinate and prolong the inevitable conclusion to their pretty little gothic world, but this is a small complaint for a film that is destined to become a classic. It looks like, despite all odds, this old vampire has some life left in it yet.

Nosferatu is now playing in theaters.

 

This review was first published in the Keizertimes on January 3^rd, 2025. Visit at www.keizertimes.com