What Remains (2022) A Bummer Scandi-noir from the Skarsgårds (Review)

At the height of a glorious summer I’m sure many people are thinking “You know what? I’m really in the mood to see a brooding, muted, Scandinavian true crime drama about a serial child-killer that’s set in the dead of winter”, and would you believe it? Icon Films have us covered with their release of feel-bad, character-oriented drama What Remains, and it’s in a primetime summer blockbuster spot is as well! That’s what we call “counter-programming” (if we’re being generous), but hey, it worked for Oppenheimer last year so who am I to judge?

Set in Sweden but filmed in English, this Finnish production is about Sigge – a troubled man who’s stuck in a limbo of going in and out of mental institutions until one day, out of the blue, he admits to his therapist that he committed multiple historic child murders. This leads to a years-long investigation that slowly grows and morphs in unpredictable ways, involving the close collaboration of his unorthodox therapist Anna (Andrea Riseborough), and testy detective Sören. The film boasts a Skarsgård family triple threat with son Gustaf playing as the tortured Sigge, father Stellan as the detective, and wife Megan Everett serving as a co-writer alongside first time feature director Ran Huang.

What Remains is a curious story that’s based on the real life case of Thomas Quick – an infamous figure in Scandinavia. I won’t share the specifics here because the revelations of his eventual legacy are the most interesting part of this film, one that Huang chooses to recreate in the least exploitative way possible. The approach is very understated and vacant (to varying degrees of success), with the kind of presentation that brings to mind a lot Scandi-noir signifiers – grey colour-palettes, thick fog, and a generally uneasy sense of calm. Gustaf’s performance gives away very little in terms of his personality – a choice that makes sense given his character’s mysterious nature but is, at times, so understated it spills over into an unengaging. As you can imagine, Stellan completes every basic task like he’s carrying a burden of cosmic importance, but at the very least he provides a very watchable rapport with Gustaf and Riseborough. 

Sigge’s history as a victim of parental abuse is brought to the forefront here, but Anna and Sören have their own troubles, with Anna’s recent diagnosis of possible infertility throwing her life off-balance, and recovering alcoholic Sören’s ex-wife is keeping his daughter from him. What develops is a strange sort of family dynamic, with Sigge’s absent parental figures being replaced by Anna and Sören – an approach bolstered by Anna’s questionable method of interrogation via compassion, with her essentially becoming Sigge’s fulltime carer. Huang’s aversion to spectacle means the film never fully delves into the more perverse events of the family dynamic, or their implications. It’s done perhaps for the sake of respect, but that approach then privileges Anna’s unusually benevolent methods instead of confronting their faults – which eventually comes to the forefront. 

This film explores some very strange corners of the human psyche – a subject that’s very challenging to translate on-screen. Huang’s greatest achievement here is using the story as a meaningful provocation of ideas regarding human nature, and the inevitable boundaries of trying to understand people who do the unthinkable. “Trauma” might be the predictable go-to theme right now, but What Remains is written from the ground up to be a film exploring its complexities, and there’s a convincing depth to Sigge’s confusion surrounding his past, memory, and their echoes, that brings out some stark contradictions within Anna and Sören. 

What Remains is a film that requires you to be engaged with it intellectually, because there are none of the thrills or twists that one would maybe expect from this kind of crime procedural, and Huang fully commits to a mode of anti-excitement that’s certainly a test at times. The runtime isn’t spent giving specifics to the real life case, but with a majority of the biggest revelations happening off-screen it’s hard to see what those two hours were spent on, which leaves things feeling vague instead of ponderous. It’s a severe film that, at its strongest, reflects the work of Shane Meadows at his most psychologically tragic, however I found my read-up on the real life subject afterwards to be a far more thought-provoking and engaging experience.

Jake’s Archive – What Remains (2022)