Review: The Last Viking — Crooked Marquee

The Last Viking plunders far and wide, telling a story about a bank robber whose brother’s mental illness causes him to think he’s John Lennon—and it keeps him from remembering where he buried his sibling’s misbegotten loot. Most scripts would leave it at this strong concept, but Danish director Anders Thomas Jensen’s screenplay adds in other men with mental illness who believe they’re members of the Beatles and a running theme about Vikings. It also features more self-defenestrations than any film in recent memory, as well as some particularly grisly violence. This is not a spare black comedy content to stick largely to a single tone. Instead, this reunion between Jensen and his muse Mads Mikkelsen crams a lot—and a lot of misery—into its plot while cracking wry jokes. The Last Viking blends a level of brutality that would make the Scandinavian warriors proud with grim humor and a surprising touch of tenderness. That tonal melange doesn’t always work, but Jensen’s story about the connection between brothers has its moments, alongside a Mikkelsen performance that reminds viewers why he’s an international star.

Mikkelsen might get top billing (and earns our affection as the film’s heart), but it’s frequent Jensen collaborator Nikolaj Lie Kaas who drives the film forward. Kaas stars as Anker, a criminal who steals millions of krone and stashes the bag of money in a station locker right before he is caught by the police. He gives his brother Manfred (Mikkelsen) the key to the locker and tells him to swallow it, then recover and bury the bag at their mother’s home once the heat dies down.

Over a decade later, Anker is out of prison and he returns home to find that his brother refuses to go by Manfred. Instead he insists on being called “John,” as in “John Lennon.” Manfred has been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, and while he’s John, he will not divulge exactly where he buried his brother’s money, which has become a pressing concern since Anker’s hulking accomplice Flemming (Nicolas Bro) is threatening violence if he doesn’t get the cash. Anker drives his brother to their childhood home, which is now an Airbnb run by a couple (Sofie Gråbøl and Søren Malling), with the hopes of recovering the bag. Adding to the chaos is the arrival of two other men who insist they’re the remaining three Beatles (one is conveniently George and Paul) at the organization of Lothar (Lars Brygmann), who serves as the makeshift band’s Brian Epstein.

The Last Viking feels typical of the dark Danish sense of humor prevalent in the previous pairings between Jensen and Mikkelsen, including Riders of Justice, Adam’s Apples, and Flickering Lights. It is filled to the brim with the bleakest of shit, including child abuse, torture, and collateral damage of those innocent of the carnage. There’s a bone-dry sense of humor as skulls are being cracked and fingers are being hacked off. and there’s a bit of whimsy from the Viking element, which bookends the film with an animated story about the marauders that’s equally charming and horrific. Amidst everything else, there’s a moving element of the bond between these two brothers that lasts across decades. The Last Viking whipsaws between feeling sweet and violent and funny and grim, sometimes within seconds of one another, and it’s occasionally unclear exactly what Jensen is attempting.

But then Mikkelsen jumps out of a window or a car door, and you laugh because it’s such a marvelous performance from the multitalented actor. All is not forgiven, but Mikkelsen holds together a movie that doesn’t always know what it’s doing tonally within a scene, even if individual moments succeed. It is also difficult to begrudge a film that is doing so much when so many are content to do so little.