“Both intimate and sprawling in vision and execution.”

There is a narrow boundary between passion and madness, and the exact moment one crosses over to the other is often left to interpretation, since it tends to be a subtle transition. This is the cornerstone of an ongoing project by John Skoog, a photographer who discovered the true story of Karl-Göran Persson, a seemingly mild-mannered farmer living in the Swedish highlands during the height of the Cold War. The distribution of materials that sought to warn the local communities about the threat of conflict led him to undertake an enormous project, converting his humble farmhouse into a fortress, in which he intended to protect his family. The story was previously featured in a multimedia artistic exhibition by Skoog, who has now revisited the subject in the form of Redoubt (Värn), a fictionalized account of Persson’s efforts to protect his family, while gradually descending into a state of madness as he allows his obsession to take control. It is a striking, beautifully made film that follows the director’s debut Ridge in being a quiet, meaningful series of observations into the lives of ordinary people, navigating new challenges while trying to understand the world that surrounds them. Both intimate and sprawling in vision and execution, Redoubt challenges not only the confines of the medium but the intricacies of the human condition, becoming a quiet meditation on existence that takes its time to reach its peak, but where the journey is certainly worth every minute of our time.

At a glance, a film about a near-anonymous farmer in the 1950s building a home does not seem particularly interesting, and the premise of Redoubt intentionally avoids making it clear what precisely makes Persson’s story so intriguing. Skoog is fascinated by the specific kind of humanity embodied by this man, whose efforts to protect his family went beyond fatherly care, and instead turned into a kind of psychosis that drove him into isolation from the very people he was intent on sheltering from a perilous storm. As a theme, madness is always fascinating to explore, and while it may be slightly harsh to refer to the protagonist’s story in such terms, we have to acknowledge the peculiarities that surround his almost folkloric reputation. This is not an opportunity for the director to ridicule or deride someone who seemed like a genuinely good person, but rather to show that madness does not always emerge from delusions of grandeur or the desire for power and influence, but rather can come from empathy and paranoia for the safety and security of yourself and others, a fascinating concept. Skoog addresses these themes delicately and with a blend of compassion and criticism, the latter directed towards those in positions of power who instill the panic and despair that can lead individuals down these treacherous paths.

The quiet, subdued nature of the narrative (which does not heighten the tone for the sake of dramatic effect) is served very well in the casting of Denis Lavant as Persson. A choice that may seem slightly strange at first considering it’s a part that required him to play a rather conventional character, as well as speaking Swedish throughout, but makes perfect sense once we see how the director uses his star’s inherent talents. There are moments where we see many of Lavant’s usual techniques – his tendency to distort his face and body into strange configurations, the oscillation between lovably eccentric and profoundly unsettling, and an almost animalistic quality. None of these immediately spring to mind when imagining how an actor would interpret a gentle farmer trying to prevent his family from becoming victims of what he is told is an imminent war – and yet with Lavant, they make sense. He’s a terrific actor, and while some of his decisions can be quite peculiar and more of an acquired taste (which includes a couple of decisions he makes in bringing this character to the screen), we can’t deny the incredible impact of his performance, which is a complex depiction of a man who goes past the point of sanity and actively alienates himself from those he vowed to protect. The film knows exactly how to use Lavant, and considering it is structured as more of a fable than a biographical account, having an actor known for his larger-than-life persona does ultimately prove to be a smart decision.  

Redoubt is a film that demands patience on the part of the viewer. It moves at a deliberately slow pace, measuring every step in a way that underlines its purposeful approach to not only looking at Persson’s peculiar endeavor, but making some broader statements about society and our efforts to keep ourselves safe. The film often feels like it was plucked from a previous era, a forgotten gem that we discover by chance – the dreamlike tone, gorgeous black-and-white cinematography (it is obvious that this was directed by someone with a background in photography) and subtle, meandering structure make it feel unlike anything else being produced today. Skoog has a fantastic eye for detail, and some of the compositions are truly striking. The narrative may be slow, but it is purposeful and never comes across as dull or lacking in substance; every choice made has a clear intention and contributes to the many ideas lingering beneath the surface of the film. Poignant and challenging, but also heartfelt in how it shows one man’s struggle to defend his family’s safety, Redoubt is rendered melancholic through the realization that too much empathy can result in an obsession that has more devastating consequences than the event that was so enormously feared. Skoog is someone we should watch closely, since this level of artistic creativity and conceptual complexity is bound to result in even more fascinating works in the future.