What film could be more appropriate to release in 2026 than a man building a fortified shelter in case of war? The topical irony of John Skoog’s narrative feature debut Redoubt was certainly not lost on me from the moment the film opens. A pamphlet showing what to do in the event of a crisis, which we see images of right at the start, perfectly contextualises subsequent shots of a man living in solitude and silently collecting what appears to be random junk. Not only do they feel alarmingly prescient, but they also perfectly set the tone for Redoubt: bleak, but bizarrely quite beautiful.
Adapted from a video art installation Skoog produced in 2014, Redoubt’s origins are very apparent in its presentation. It definitely prioritises style over substance but, while that phrase can sometimes be a criticism, the languid pace and visual makeup is actually one of its biggest strengths. Sometimes the shots are so still that only the occasional candle flicker or fog settling reminds you that you’re not looking at a photograph, and those can be frustrating, especially when you want the film to cut to something else. Nevertheless, the film is consistently mesmerising to look at. Cinematographer Ita Zbroneic-Zajt previously worked with Skoog on Ridge, a documentary about the Swedish landscape, and the approach to filming Redoubt was clearly similar – at least 70% of the shots are focused on showing off the beautiful scenery, further enhanced by the crisp and cinematic black-and-white presentation.
The emphasis on style over substance certainly reflects in the script, which is very light on a concrete story and almost as light on dialogue. With the exception of a couple of key moments, main character Karl doesn’t really say anything and even when he does, he’s hardly what you’d call a chatterbox. However, this is barely a problem when it comes to Denis Lavant’s performance. He is on camera so much and yet you never tire of him – there’s always something behind his eyes that adds a deeper undercurrent to what he’s doing. Even if you’re never quite sure what that ‘something’ is, it’s alluring all the same. Lavant was not an actor I was familiar with prior to watching this, but I endeavour to check some of his other films out now. He’s got a really distinctive face and manages to keep his character interesting despite him not being much on paper.
It definitely prioritises style over substance but, while that phrase can sometimes be a criticism, the languid pace and visual makeup is actually one of its biggest strengths.
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As I mentioned, the film starts off with illustrations from a public information pamphlet. This pamphlet is If War Comes, which was made by the Swedish government from the end of World War II until 1991 (although, distressingly, the government felt the need to bring it back in 2018). Illustrations and images from it keep popping up occasionally throughout the film to maintain a feeling of looming dread, but it’s also the only thing that grounds the film in a definitive setting. We can guess from the use of the pamphlet’s illustrations, and the Eastern-European dialects, that this is based in the paranoia of the Cold War, but something about it feels eerily timeless. Go to a locked-off village somewhere in Sweden and who knows? There could well be a scene like this happening now. After all, there’s always some strange man in your village that has seemingly been renovating his house for as long as you can remember.
Despite the lingering nuclear threat that hangs over Redoubt, it’s the more hopeful moments that stick out. The perfect stillness of some of the film’s more picturesque shots is counterbalanced by more lively scenes of village parties and children dancing, regular human interactions that feel at odds with Karl’s isolated existence. There is more going on in these scenes – one shot of children playing has adults in the background engaged in quite a stern conversation, one which we don’t hear – but they add more to Karl’s story. Are prospects really as bleak as he thinks they are? Was the conversation the parents are having in any way linked to his fears, or did it actually have nothing to do with it? It’s these scenes of hope that plant seeds of doubt in the viewers’ mind, and they’re really well-done.
It’s this hopeful tinge that leads to my biggest criticism of Redoubt: its ending. The final scene is a lovely conversation which gave me something I wanted for Karl throughout the whole film. But it doesn’t feel like the final scene, it feels like there’s still at least five minutes to go. Perhaps I shouldn’t be complaining about the trim runtime (in this profession, a film under 90 minutes is a gift from the heavens above), but the lack of an end coda did bother me a bit. Perhaps it’s Skoog’s sensibilities letting him down since, in this film’s previous guise of an art installation, a cinematic ending wasn’t really necessary, but it is here, and it’s frustrating that the film just sort of stops, rather than actually ending.
Still, for a film borne out of a video art project that lacks any real story, Redoubt could have been far more self-indulgent than it is. It may not have a plot to speak of, but its striking cinematography and lead performance from Denis Lavant pull you into its world. It’s not for everyone, and it’s not perfect, but I’d be interested in seeing more narrative features from Skoog now that he’s getting the hang of them.
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