Once, while scrolling through Facebook, I encountered a meme featuring a photo of several Muslim women in burqas and the text: “You Will Never Convince Me That This Is Normal.” This struck me not so much because of the content—I have, unfortunately, seen much worse on social media—but because the person who posted it was a progressive. The meme was meant to express solidarity with oppressed women, but in practice it made a sweeping, dismissive statement about a form of traditional religious practice.

There are, it seems, limits to tolerance, even in a purportedly enlightened society. It is exactly those tensions that Romanian director Cristian Mungiu interrogates in his new film, “Fjord.” The movie, which opens in wide release in the United States this weekend, has already inspired strong reactions of every variety. It had a triumphant debut at Cannes in the spring, taking home the prestigious Palme d’Or. Romania will submit it for Best International Feature at the 2027 Academy Awards, and Oscar prognosticators believe it could be a Best Picture contender. On the other hand, some critics accuse it of being mealy-mouthed, reactionary and even dangerous.

Certainly “Fjord” engages with complex and thorny topics as it tells the story of a devout Christian family under investigation for child abuse. Mungiu, known for searing social dramas like “R.M.N.” and “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days,” aims to leave moral judgments up to the viewer, and is more interested in provoking questions than offering answers. But despite an admirable commitment to inviting empathy, Mungiu’s storytelling frequently undermines the complexity of his premise. In the end, “Fjord” is a more fascinating film to discuss than to watch.

Loosely based on a real case, “Fjord” follows the Gheorgiu family—a Romanian father, Mihai (Sebastian Stan), a Norwegian mother, Lisbet (Renate Reinsve) and five children—who have just moved to Norway to be closer to Lisbet’s family. While they quickly befriend the neighboring Halberg family, including school principal Mats, lawyer Mia and rebellious teenage daughter Noora, they struggle in other ways to assimilate to their new home. In particular, their more secular neighbors look askance at the Gheorgius’ traditionalist faith.

The Gheorgius pray publicly, frequently quote the Bible and limit their interaction with modern technology (they do not have a television and the older children are not allowed phones). Lisbet works at a retirement home and is told that she cannot offer religious comfort to grieving family members unless asked; nevertheless, she prays quietly over every resident who passes. And their house runs under a strict system of discipline, with the children awarded points or demerits based on their behavior.

When a teacher notices bruises on the Gheorgius’ eldest daughter Elia (Vanessa Ceban), Norwegian Child Welfare Services opens an investigation. The suspicion of abuse is enough for the government to justify taking all five children into custody, a sudden turn of events that shocks and devastates Mihai and Lisbet. They contract their neighbor Mia (Lisa Carlehed) to represent them in court as they seek to reunite their family.

“Fjord” is most compelling in its first half, a wrenching character drama. It is here that members of the talented cast get their greatest chance to shine, particularly Stan and Reinsve. This is Stan (“The Avengers,” “The Apprentice”) as you’ve never seen him, shedding his pretty boy charms and superhero shine for a restrained, simmering performance. Reinsve continues to be one of our most arresting screen presences, and her Lisbet is full of quiet strength and sorrow. In one scene (which consists mostly of a single unbroken shot) she slowly realizes that her children will be taken away from her at the end of the conversation, and we see her move through denial, horror, anger and grudging acceptance in a matter of minutes; it is a tour de force. 

The young actors, are also quite good, and a burgeoning, largely-unspoken romance between Elia and her neighbor, Noora, is one of the film’s highlights.

But when the film becomes a legal thriller in its second half, character recedes and issues take the foreground. This portion is more emotionally distant and, consequently, less engaging. It doesn’t help that, in an admirable effort to make us empathize with the Gheorgius, Mungiu flattens out a lot of the complexity of the court case. Certainly there is ambiguity around the parents’ guilt , but the story has so effectively asked you to identify with the Gheorgius that you find yourself on their side.

Meanwhile the Norwegian government is depicted as dogmatic, cold and so blindly committed to its own sense of righteousness that it can’t consider the real human beings involved in the case. The police use deceitful tactics to elicit a confession from Mihai, and the extreme measures taken by Child Welfare Services seem to be based in prejudice against the Gheorgius’ religiosity and Mihai’s Romanian background. I suspect that Mungiu assumes audiences are predisposed to dislike the strict, traditionalist family and wants to challenge us to compassion; but in practice, he tips the scales too much in their favor, robbing the film of complexity.

The power of “Fjord” is further diluted by a restrained and distant narrative style. It features plenty of beautiful photography of the snowy landscape (including a couple of metaphorically potent avalanches), but as the film moves more into courtrooms and government offices, its stark color palette becomes a little oppressive. Again, it is best when dealing directly with people; Mungiu’s camera lingers patiently on the faces of his actors, allowing them to convey spectrums of emotion with the curve of a lip, the release of a breath.

To its credit, “Fjord” still leaves you with uneasy questions. Desperate to bring attention to their case, Mihai begins to collaborate with far-right YouTubers, inviting us to reflect on the overlap between traditionalist religion and reactionary politics. We also leave the film wondering how Elia, a teen experiencing a queer awakening, will fare with parents who believe strongly in traditional marriage. 

But the film’s most lingering question is also its first: What place does religion have in a progressive society? What happens when freedom of religious expression clashes with a society’s secular norms? How much should either side accommodate the other? I found myself reflecting on my own prejudices: How often do I make a snap judgment about that woman at Mass in a mantilla, or that young priest in a cassock? 

As “Fjord” hits more theaters and begins an awards season run, I anticipate seeing heated debate about these questions. Despite my reservations, I admire “Fjord” for being able to start difficult, and necessary, conversations.

John Dougherty is the director of mission ministry at St. Joseph's Preparatory School in Philadelphia, Pa., moderator of America's Catholic Movie Club, and author of Finding God in All Films: A Contemplative Approach to Watching Movies. You can find more of his work on his Substack, Roll Credits.