Cast: Anders Danielsen Lie, Jonas Strand Gravli, Jon Øigarden, Isak Bakli Aglen, Maria Bock, Thorbjørn Harr, Seda Witt, Ola G. Furuseth, Hilde Olausson
Director: Paul Greengrass
Running time: 2 hours 23 minutes
by Jericho Cerrona
If there was ever any doubt, the 2011 Norway attacks by Anders Behring Breivik that left 77 people dead was an unspeakable atrocity. The killer, a stone-cold sociopath (played by Anders Danielsen Lie) stockpiled weapons, disguised himself as a police officer, and gained access to an island where a Workers’ Youth League summer camp was being held. The subsequent aftermath, where Breivik was treated humanely by the Norwegian government while victims mourned the loss of loved ones, is the real aim of director Paul Greengrass’s retelling. Before we get there, however, there’s 40 minutes of goosed-up exploitation cinema to wade through. If United 93 was Greengrass’s visceral attempt at pummeling audiences into submission concerning an American tragedy, then 22 July cheaply uses a real-life Norwegian catastrophe as a soapbox for simplistic moralizing.
During the film’s opening stretch, the film cuts between Breivik loading bombs and weaponry into an unmarked van and various high school students innocently enjoying themselves at summer camp. Using his typical hand-held shooting style, Greengrass ratchets up the tension by using standard movie suspense tactics, such as an ominous score and scenes where characters tearfully deliver speeches moments before death. All the while, Breivik prowls through the forest in wide shots reminiscent of a Peter Berg action thriller as he indiscriminately mows down victims fleeing for their lives.
One particular student comes into focus, Viljar (Jonas Strand Gravli), who delivers a speech about what he would do if he was Prime Minister shortly before the massacre. Meanwhile, the actual PM, Jens Stoltenberg (Ola G. Furuseth) is evacuated after a bomb planted by Breivik detonates outside a government building in Oslo. The rest of the film pivots into a blunt drama juxtaposing Viljar and Breivik; with the former learning how to walk again due to his gunshot injuries, while the later espouses his bigoted, though ideologically muddled, views.
During the third act, July 22 transforms into a courtroom procedural where family members of the deceased are forced to endure Breivik’s prepared statements while Vilijar undergoes rehab, laughably edited in montage like something out of the Rocky franchise. Greengrass may want his film to open up a dialogue about how and why someone like Breivik exists, but July 22 ends up coming across morally facile. The characters here feel like chess pieces for a political warning rather than human beings who actually suffered through this tragedy. The catharsis, therefore, is cheap. What is the point, after all, of dramatizing such a heinous event? There is little utility, whether artistic or political, in Greengrass’s approach here; rendering his film as yet another dramatic thriller trivializing actual human suffering.