Stellan Skarsgard, left, and Benjamin Helstad star in KING OF DEVIL'S ISLAND (Photo: Film Movement)

Directed by Marius Holst
Produced by Karin Julsrud, Antoine de Clermont-Tonnerre, Ewa Puszczynska, Mathilde Dedye & Johannes Ahlund
Written by Dennis Magnusson
Released by Film Movement
Norwegian with English subtitles
Norway/France/Sweden/Poland. 115 min. Not rated
With Stellan Skarsgard, Benjamin Helstad, Kirstoffer Joner, Trond Nilssen, Ellen Dorrit Petersen & Magnus Langlete

There is no way that the filmmakers of this Norwegian escape drama could have known that its eventual U.S. release would have such heavy resonance, opening a week after the aftershocks of the Penn State sex scandal, where higher ups allegedly covered up and failed to report child sexual abuse. The film’s authority figure-as-sexual predator and the denial of his actions by authorities are the most egregious example of the film’s many piled-on injustices. It’s also the main linchpin that nearly topples a house of cards, a draconian correctional facility for problem boys isolated on frigid Bastoy Island off the mainland—and sealed off from scrutiny. It could be Boys Town goes to hell (there’s no one like Spencer Tracy in sight).

Based on real events, the script, set in 1915, shapes the story as a prison breakout film. The campus even looks like a penitentiary, with a separate building for solitary confinement set apart from the main buildings. King of Devil’s Island joins the scrappy brotherhood of other European prison dramas, like A Prophet and Cell 211. What was once a hard-boiled American staple has recently been vigorously reinterpreted abroad, each with its own temperament and sociological backdrop.

The moment a hardened stone-faced teenaged Erling (Benjamin Helstad) steps foot on the island, the film puts him steadily through his paces. Erling already has bruises from his detention by the police, and at first, we don’t know why he has been sentenced there. Most of the other kids have committed petty crimes, but by the stares that greet him, we at least know his crime was much more serious.

In his first meeting with the school’s governor (the aloofly sinister Stellan Skarsgard), he’s told that the school’s mission is to mold the boys into honorable, humble, and useful Christians. For Erling, a former harpooner on a whaling ship, the governor uses a metaphor to warn him of any misbehavior, “This island is my ship,” and from now on, Erling will be called by his assigned name, C19. Though there is educational and religious instruction, most of the boy’s time is devoted to manual labor. Immediately, the film gets down to business—Erling attempts an escape.

If the key ingredient to any prison-breakout movie is that you want to root for the escapees, no matter their pasts, then King effortlessly achieves this, and not only because the convict-like characters are baby-faced boys. Through the terse dialogue, we know that Erling is the rebel; the blond Olav (Trond Nilssen), the captain of Erling’s barracks, the teacher’s pet; and big-eared, wide-eyed Ivar (Magnus Langlete) a victim. (The sexual abuse is off screen, and the film’s much more effective for it.) The cast wisely underplay their roles—avoiding archetypes—leaving the visceral reactions to the audience under Marius Holst’s crisp and clear direction.

Holst also offers solid proof that the 3-D format is just one way to create a tactile film-going experience. The boys’ visible breath practically drifts out of the screen, whether they are cutting down trees in the snow (just one of their menial chores) or packed inside their barracks. He also has a great sense of compositions that never upstage the actors. Best of all, the movie saves the most tense action sequence for last, a chase scene that would have made D. W. Griffith proud: careful on the ice.