Zero Kelvin

Zero Kelvin is a tense, well-made thriller whose chief limitation is how little relief it allows from its central conflict. Hans Petter Moland uses the Arctic setting to make the differences between his characters increasingly oppressive. The cold matters, but human company is the more immediate problem. We recommend it for the way the performances and the landscape make that problem felt. Anyone hoping for an adventure sustained by fresh discoveries should expect something narrower and less comfortable.

Stellan Skarsgård gives Randbæk a force that helps explain why the conflict cannot simply be talked away. Gard B. Eidsvold, as Henrik Larsen, and Bjørn Sundquist, as Jakob Holm, keep the exchanges from becoming a one-man performance. Their differences matter more than an easy division into the clever man and the strong man. That is a considerable virtue in a film so concentrated on its central struggle. The acting keeps the men interesting even when their company becomes wearing.

Philip Øgaard’s cinematography makes the Arctic’s scale unsettling. There is enough space to dwarf the men, and little in it that promises comfort. We felt hemmed in by those cold expanses; the distance around the characters made their conflict seem harder to escape. The images earn that reaction without needing an explanation of what the ice is supposed to mean. Moland lets the hostile landscape affect our sense of the people within it.

Einar Egeland’s editing gives the antagonism time to develop, and the pacing is one of the film’s strengths. At 118 minutes, it has room for friction to become something more serious without making every exchange carry an immediate threat. Terje Rypdal’s spare score helps by leaving the conflict room to trouble us. There is no need for the music to explain that this is an unhappy place. Its restraint suits the film’s patient accumulation of tension.

Janusz Sosnowski’s production design is less conspicuous than the landscape, which seems the right choice. The physical setting needs to make this company difficult to bear, and it does, without distracting us from the actors. Together, the design and photography avoid making the hardship look attractive. The surroundings remain unpleasant enough that the men’s efforts to assert themselves never acquire the easy glamour that adventure films sometimes give to stubbornness.

Lars Bill Lundholm’s screenplay avoids reducing the conflict to a simple contest between brains and strength. The struggle remains involving because those categories never adequately explain the men. Yet the film’s concentration on masculine antagonism can feel restrictive, and we wanted more variation in what the encounters asked of us. The grimness begins to repeat its effect even while the performances hold our attention. A less insistent stretch would have helped.

For a psychological thriller, though, the sustained discomfort is a substantial achievement. The film gives the landscape and the actors time to work, and its patience is largely rewarded. Its appeal depends on finding these difficult men worth staying with. Choose it for a night when an icy view and an argument sound more inviting than reassurance.