Butler's Cinema Scene

Mads Mikkelsen

“ARCTIC” My rating: B

98 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

The man-in-the-wilderness survival drama “Arctic” probably didn’t need a world-class actor.

After all, there’s almost no dialogue and the star of the show spends half the time with his features hidden behind a parka hood. Just about any able-bodied thespian could have handled it.

Even so, give thanks that the great Mads Mikkelsen signed up for this nail-biting bit of outdoor adventure.

Joe Penna’s film begins with a man in a red parka using crude tools to shovel away the white snow to reveal the black rocks beneath.  An overhead shot shows him to be making a huge SOS sign that can be seen by passing aircraft.

Our protagonist (Mikkelsen) has already been stranded in the snowy wastes for days. He survived the wreck of his airplane, which remains intact enough to serve as a shelter. He’s dug holes in the ice and is catching fish, eating some raw and freezing the rest.

And then, rescue!  A helicopter appears and attempts to land. But a gust of wind sends it tumbling. The sole survivor is the pilot (Maria Thelma Smaradottir), a young woman rendered unconscious by the impact.

The man takes her to his plane and sees to her wounds.  But she does’t wake up.  Only the fluttering of her eyelids suggests an inner life.

The bulk of “Arctic” is a long slog across miles of snow. The man pulls his comatose companion on a sledge. His goal is to reach a research station many miles away (according to a map found in the ‘copter wreckage), but a  mountain range, fierce weather, exhaustion and a hungry polar bear stand in the way.

“Arctic” tells us next to nothing about the characters (the woman, at least, has a photo of herself with a man and child; we know even less about Mikkelsen’s pilot).

And that’s where having a great actor on hand comes in.  Mikkelsen doesn’t say anything but he expresses much. His depiction of physical and mental weariness is heartbreakingly true, and Tomas Orn Thomasson’s cinematography excels at capturing tiny human figures within a vast, cruel landscape.

| Robert W. Butler