What Remains - New Release Review
Director: Ran Huang
Starring: Andrea Risebourough, Stellan Skarsgård, Gustaf Skarsgård, Jussi Kostamo, Éva Magyar
Written by: Megan Everett-Skarsgård, Ran Huang
Produced by: Jessica Chen, Ran Huang
Cinematography by: Christopher Blauvelt
Original Score by: Ben Frost
Synopsis:
At a Scandinavian psychiatric hospital, an uneasy triumvirate of multiple murderer Mads, therapist Anna, and policeman Soren, all have a vested interest in unearthing the truth, and a deepening co-dependency threatens to consume them all.
Thoughts:
This film is extremely methodical in its approach. There’s a stillness about it, a calmness. A pace so slow it feels like little to no progression is actually taking place. Circling, it feels stuck, digging in the mud, unearthing further doubt and questions about its participants without any real climax.
Directed by Ran Huang and co-written by Megan Everett-Skarsgård, 'What Remains' is not the easiest film to become invested in. It falls short in what it describes as “the murky reality that emerges” when detailing the horrific acts committed by its protagonist. The English language, Chinese/Scandinavian production has been doing the European film festival rounds since 2022, recently securing distribution in the UK through the Icon Film Channel. The film is based on true events and the story of Sture Bergwall AKA Thomas Quick, the man who confessed to over 30 murders whilst institutionalised only to later withdraw them and be acquitted.
Mads Lake (Gustaf Skarsgård, Oppenheimer) is placed in an experimental psychiatric hospital in Sweden, convicted of abusing young teenage boys. Under the care of therapist Anna Rudebeck (Andrea Riseborough, Birdman) and pursued for his confessions by detective Soren Rank (Stellan Skarsgård, Dune). Interesting to note that the Skarsgård tally on this production is at three.
In an interview with Variety, co-writer Megan Everett-Skarsgård says “It’s funny, because it’s an American trying to tell the Chinese about Swedish social services” which helps explain the disjointed feeling of watching this film. Ran Huang noted that instead of looking for right or wrong, they were focused on the “human, emotional connection” formed between the fractured characters which to me doesn’t go far enough to be the main objective. It’s also unclear who we should be sympathising with as most of the focus is on Mads as the victim in all of this.
Huang describes how he was attracted to the uncertainty of what went wrong in the life of Bergwall. He was introduced to the story during a stay at a London hotel, coming across a magazine profile on Sture Bergwall. I had many thoughts when the film ended, mostly I was underwhelmed at its vague and dull nature so I was curious to check out the piece. The lengthy article was published in 2013 titled ‘The Serial Killer Has Second Thoughts: The Confessions of Thomas Quick.’ It provided some understanding of the film’s emotional ambivalence, helping me grasp the uniqueness of the Swedish social and justice systems in relation to the case. It is an interesting read, particularly the information on how he assisted in the reconstruction of the murders. Even after the confessions, Bergwall was still able to sign himself out of the psychiatric hospital and had freedom to travel unaccompanied, frequently attending the national library in Stockholm, all whilst maintaining his own accommodation.
The film does have a great stillness in the cinematography captured by Christopher Blauvelt, who’s work on 2018’s 'Mid90s' is frequently on my mind. It’s interesting how often the film looks in on itself, either in scenes completely static or accompanied by slow zooms. I enjoy many of these shots that overtime become increasingly distorted and muddled, all shot through windows or behind glass that gives us a challenging view. What is being masked? What is Stellan hiding behind? Grief stricken and out of focus. Looking through windows, observing conversations, the slow zooming shots take us closer but not towards understanding the motives of the filmmaker. The view distorted with the perspective unclear, conflicted. Captured from outside looking in like an Edward Hopper painting with an additional mirrored layer.
Seemingly never too far from the depths of a forest, the choice in colour grading is bold. Doubling down on the visual aesthetic makes it feel so damp and dreary. Remote and isolating, the film is so intensely green and feels like it is decaying. There is no light. The intimate conversations that took place in Anna Rudebeck’s car are the moments I became mostly invested in the film's intimacy. It relies heavily on sound design, choosing long bouts of silence. These slowly paced moments were perfectly accompanied by the deafening sounds of rain on the roof of the car. The score composed by Ben Frost does a lot of work to try to keep many meandering moments afloat and try to give us a sense of movement.
The point of view and perspective we have as the viewer is interesting in parts. Always looking in, spectating, observing each character when they are alone, just like how they observe Mads. Both Anna and Soren have other things factoring into their approach to their work. We become extremely observant of Soren, initially like he is hiding something, though it seems as though it’s the case he is hiding behind. We see Soren in therapy and through voyeuristic scenes, where the camera slowly peers around corners where it is unwelcome. We overhear phone calls where Soren begs to see his daughter and mentions he’s been getting help for his alcoholism, though it’s the only mention of it over the 131 minutes.
Through Mads' relationship with Anna, she attempts to frame him as a victim due to what happened with his father. She has a closeness to him that feels too close for the doctor/patient and is more of a emotional caregiver. She has a constant look of distress and grief on her face. We begin to wonder how closely she relates to the experiences Mads had as we see her flinch at any mention of her father. The performances are missing any depth with each wearing the same facial expression for the entirety of their screen time. Stellan Skarsgård is unconvincing in his rage.
Mads’ struggles to identify whether his memories of what happened to him as a child were dreams or things that actually happened. It is also unclear to us as the viewer what exactly has been established. It is difficult to gauge the motives of the film's authors as we are placed in a strange position as the viewer. There is a lack of focus in how the narrative jumps around with no clear flow. In pursuit of retelling the endless horrors committed, there is a struggle in establishing a clear understanding of the timeline. For us as the audience it’s quite a challenge to follow and identify what really happened as it becomes quite muddled within itself. The film is so grim in its subject matter and outlook, it has a strange flow to it where we travel between sessions with Mads and what’s happening behind closed doors in both Anna and Soren’s lives. The ones in power seem to have almost as many issues to sort as Mads. Everyone in this film needs therapy. There is a desperation about it.
In conclusion, What Remains asks more questions as it builds, though it never really arrives anywhere.
Verdict: ⭐️⭐️½
-Gary McIlhagga
'What Remains' is released in selected UK cinemas July 5th and on Digital August 5th
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