Cristian Mungiu’s 2026 Palme d’Or winner Fjord opens in the Spotlight section of the 64th New York Film Festival in its New York Premiere. Mungiu in his typical cinematic fashion (4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days), reveals a disturbing dynamic for immigrant families. As they attempt to improve their lifestyles in another nation, they find themselves in conflict because of political and cultural disparities. Thus, either they accept the discrimination against them and assimilate or flee back to their home country.

For example in Fjord, a conservative, religious, immigrant family moves from Romania to liberal, socialist Norway. Ironically, in this open society, they run up against a rigid set of sociopolitical mores and expectations. These differ from their own values. Unexpectedly, the family faces a clash of cultural lifestyles that land them in court. There, the parents fight criminal child abuse allegations.

With this anomalous situation the director raises questions about conformity, identity, freedom of speech, freedom of religion, parenting, the individual vs. the state, and the supremacy of divergent cultural values. The confluence of controversial issues borne by the Romanian family congeals in a battle against a local justice system’s institutional policies. Finally, the director leaves the audience with no certain resolution in a disturbing conclusion.

The complex drama unfolds subtly as Mungiu shepherds the acting ensemble led by an unrecognizable Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve as the parents. After accusations fly, both walk precariously on the eggshells of the town’s political correctness. Importantly, the cast’s restrained portrayals convey an underworld of unexpressed emotions. Additionally, the director uses cinematic contrasts. He films the angular, clean-lines of the mountainous seaside town in a fjord where avalanches are matter-of-fact occurrences. Then, he pits these foreboding scenes against unremarkable, washed out interiors of human gatherings. Interestingly, the contrasts convey a chilling, portentous, metaphoric atmosphere that something dangerous can and will happen.

Mihai and Lisbet Gheorghiu (Stan and Reinsve) and their four school-aged children and one breast-feeding baby live in the remote village of Lisbet’s birth. Principally, they’ve moved because Mihai, a qualified software engineer, can get an IT job. Secondly, a strong church community flourishes near the village. That will reaffirm and strengthen the Gheorghiu’s devout faith as members of a conservative, strict, Christian sect.

Welcomed by the progressive, liberal (non-Christian) headmaster and his family (next-door neighbors), the Romanians ease their way into the town community. Additionally, the headmaster’s wild, disobedient daughter Noora (Henrikke Lund Olsen) happily connects with the two older Gheorghiu children. Trying to teach them her ways, she challenges them to take risks. For example, she encourages them to disobey their parents. Thus, the Gheorghiu children jump out the window, a one story drop, to explore with her, though they should be in bed sleeping.

The contrast between the headmaster’s wayward, disobedient daughter and the Gheorghiu children’s calm peacefulness clarifies early in the film. Also, we note the Gheorghiu children gently guide Noora toward goodness. Clearly, they have a positive, loving impact on her. Importantly, their kindness and love lead to her devastation at the film’s conclusion.

Initially, the town accepts the outsiders from Bucharest, Romania. However, noticing the children have marks and bruises, rather than question how they happened, the school staff makes assumptions. They follow up with more questions about the parents’ child-rearing behaviors. The Gheorghiu’s religious upbringing includes a demerit system, mandatory Bible-reading and prayer time. We also see restrictions as punishment (prevented from going to a birthday party), when they’ve been reckless (almost spilling boiling water on the baby).

When the staff discover the parents slap them on their behinds, they’ve hit the mother load. This violates the Scandinavian taboo against corporal punishment: hitting or touching a child with violence (a slap on the butt).

Because of the language disparities or the children’s fear, the staff decides to investigate further. They consider that the children, for whom Norwegian and English are second and third languages, may be hiding something. Considering the children’s answers, child protective services place the children in foster care. Furthermore, a hearing and criminal trial will follow. The foster care placement includes the breast-feeding baby, who undergoes a brain scan for evidence of (the fiercely disputed) shaken baby syndrome. At this juncture the audience questions the openness and liberalism of the state representatives. This feels like repression and bigotry.

The director takes up the topic of child abuse, a hot button issue given the headlines (child trafficking, pedophilia, child abuse), and turns it on its head. Additionally, he redirects our dislike of strict, religious upbringing by comparing the Gheorghiu’s children with the selfish, undisciplined Noora. Unlike many hypocritical conservative Christians (Southern politicians who cover up criminal disclosures in the Epstein files), this family appears to live their beliefs. Indeed, we note the disciplined family has set up well defined boundaries that benefit their children. These boundaries comfort Noora, whose parents let her do as she pleases to ill effect.

Clearly, the director manipulates the audience’s feelings. He creates empathy for the Romanian family against the Norwegian, cultural, sociopolitical mores. The three women who represent school staff and child protective services and the male prosecutor appear prejudiced against the family’s ethnicity, conservatism and religion. Asking questions with snide asides, the prosecutor demeans the family’s political incorrectness. We understand the Norwegian state views liberal, progressive parenting behaviors as healthful and correct. In contrast, it views how Mihai and Lisbet raise their children as wrong.

Indeed, the decision by the childless, unmarried females to put the children in foster care for little provocation creates more harm, emotional stress and pain. When they proclaim they do this for the good of the children, we recoil. Their justifications chill us to the bone.

Fjord’s edginess reminds us not to assume easily or categorize, but to consider all perspectives, if possible. The director’s emotional conclusion clarifies the collateral damage caused by the situation. Causalities can even be caused when an open, liberal state tries to make others conform to what it deems as correct.

Tickets to Fjord may be found at the NYFF 2026 site (some tickets for the venue at Alamo Drafthouse on Staten Island) or streaming on various platforms. It opens in theaters October 9, 2026.