Jessica Kiang writes.
If ever there were a film that was simply a testament to one man’s watchability, it’s “A Somewhat Gentle Man.” In it, the just-absolutely-great-in-almost-everything-he-does Stellan Skarsgård — yes, I have a weird crush — is in pretty much every single scene and certainly has to carry the entire enterprise, armed with little more than an appalling old-man ponytail and an inherently tragicomic expression. And he does it well, elevating what could easily be pretty standard, laconic Scandinavian fare into something more complex, and wringing genuine laughs of out of pretty bleak circumstances. That the film becomes a character study of any depth at all is amazing since our hero, for the most part, is buoyed along by forces he cannot control or even influence, who reacts rather than acts and who finds himself constantly imposed upon to please the frequently misguided whims and desires of others. In short, for a protagonist, he doesn’t protag a whole lot.
But Skarsgård’s work here, the simple physicality of his presence, his hangdog face, the tiny nuances of timing and expression, make it difficult to lose interest; even when the material feels familiar and the plot developments can be foretold, there is always a pleasure to be derived from the surprise of his performance.
Ulrik is a taciturn ex-con who went to prison for murder and is released to little fanfare having served his time. Once out, his old criminal mentor urges him to commit another dreadful crime when all he really wants is to reconnect with his estranged son, now engaged with a baby on the way, and watch Polish TV. Possibly because he seems such a blank slate, he gets involved with the characters around him who cast him as a player in their own lives and are inevitably disappointed when he doesn’t live up to their self-serving idea of what he is. Something’s got to give, and in a rare cathartic moment of action on Ulrik’s part, it does.
There’s nothing particularly new or groundbreaking here, but plenty to admire in the performances all round and the competent, measured direction by Hans Petter Moland. For all the potential Guy Ritchie glossiness of its premise, it is, in the end, a somewhat gentle film.
