By David Ryan.

The film strikes deeply when focusing on the losses we share when innocent people, families, and children perish through the actions of tyrants and the mistakes of gallant, smart but altogether remarkably ordinary people.”

A Prologue

A tragic film dealing with intimate themes about the effects of war on non-combatants, The Bombardment or Skyggen i mit øje (The Shadow in My Eye, 2021) went largely unreviewed in North America. After it arrived on Netflix a few years ago, a small group of independent reviewers gave the film positive reviews, but this positivism failed to diffuse, and although it is not unusual for good films to struggle with finding a popular audience, a commercial film lacking critical acknowledgement strikes as a sad deviation.

As a matter of critical practice, many shorts and documentaries are released to little reception, but a worthy commercial film neglected by journalistic reviewers marks the failure of the film’s marketers and the reviewers themselves. This gap between network clusters (film marketers and reviewers) and the lack of critical engagement and commercial virality means the film will continue to linger in anonymity until larger discourse communities form around the film, or when Netflix decides to uncommonly engage in a late version of sleeper marketing.

The Bombardment Review - But Why Tho?

The creation of discourse communities is not the mission of film reviewers, however. Reviewers must tend to the film, but they must also tend to their audiences, and audiences belong to various networks and discourse communities. Whether the discourse appears in online platforms, such as Reddit, in extended forms of contact with independent reviews (YouTube creators and podcasters included), academic research, or revival festivals, these films can find niche audiences through more promotion, more published analyses, and more discourse.

The chances of a good film finding commercial success this way are slim because it is a cumulative, phenomenological process that occurs periodically over space and time. For instance, the critical revivalism and remediation that happened with The Wizard of Oz (1935), The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), Blade Runner (1982), and Brazil (1985), among others, are rare circumstances with many market conditions—but The Bombardment does not fit the profiles of these films, so it will struggle in obscurity, ironically sitting in the very margins from which the film’s liberation aesthetics purport to uplift this story.

With more space and time to analyze this film, my effort is meant to catalyze this under reviewed and underappreciated film. However, with only a handful of encouraging reviews on Metacritic and a bit more on Rotten Tomatoes, there is little to engage critically beyond acknowledging the positivism of the independent reviews and advocate for audiences to find and discuss the film.

Film Discourse and Marketing

But before I tend to the film, a few notes about discourse communities and marketing. The discourse surrounding films typically unfolds through a combination of segments focused on public engagement, such as news, marketing, published criticism and audience response. This process begins with (a) an intensive marketing and advertising push aimed at building anticipation during the film’s pre-, principal, and post-production phases. This stage includes leaks, gossip, trailers, interviews, and other promotional content released across various media platforms, creating a dispersed dialogue around the film.

As the film’s release date approaches, (b) initial reviews and reactions from journalists, often shared via social media, begin to further shape the public’s early impressions. These preliminary reactions are followed by formal reviews, which are published around the film’s release, generating further public engagement, especially among audiences attending early screenings or festival showings. During this period, interviews with actors and directors add to the discourse, sparking more interest and discussion. Finally, (c) post-release discussions emerge across social and legacy media platforms, and aggregation sites like Metacritic and Rotten Tomatoes compile and analyze reviews, highlighting common themes and patterns. This phase of discourse often shapes the film’s word-of-mouth reputation, influencing its box office performance and setting expectations for its later distribution on other platforms.

When Skyggen i mit øje was released in October 2021, the film faced notable controversy. Reportedly, family members of an RAF pilot complained about the accuracy of his portrayal in one key scene. Heeding their complaints, writer-director Ole Bornedal and the production company Miso Film re-edited this scene. Remediating a key scene while the film was in theaters is unusual but not without some precedents. For example, The Exorcist (1973)Star Wars: A New Hope (1977), The Shining (1980), The Program (1993), Paranormal Activity (2007), Show Dogs (2018) and Cats (2019) were all updated during each film’s theatrical run while the ending for The Empire Strikes Back (1980) was reshot and re-edited after its initial 70mm release before its more widely distributed 35mm theatrical version was released a month later.

Though Skyggen i mit øje did garner strong attention in Denmark, it failed to excite broader European audiences. In March 2022, Netflix released the film as The Bombardment, and in terms of online marketing for a digitally released film, it was situated like other war-related, European films on digital platforms—placed in a crowded gallery and stimulated by user preferences. The film did reasonably well on Netflix in its debut, but in an attention economy where online assets compete in a singular platform, there was (and is) a measurable attention deficit regarding the film; however, this deficit regarding European films is not isolated to Skyggen i mit øje, as this report indicates.

In the complex world of film marketing, reviews play a nuanced role. Research suggests that journalistic reviewers primarily serve as opinion leaders rather than direct box office influencers. Evidence also indicates that while reviews may not significantly affect a film’s initial earnings, they can occasionally contribute to its long-term revenue, especially for critically acclaimed and art house films. For films released solely in the U.S. on digital platforms like Netflix, however, gauging the impact reviews have on online releases are difficult to measure due to the lack of transparent data.

Movie Review: The Bombardment (The Shadow in My Eye) - SPLING

Just as Netflix rarely responds to audience inquiries, critics infrequently interact with their readers and viewers. But when analyzing films, critics teach us about their values, and most critics value good films. Audiences can integrate these values with their perceptions and expand the discussion of the film in supplementary discourse platforms, promoting more inquiry, cognitive presence, and other kinds of reflective, relational analysis.

I hope this commentary serves as a catalyst to generate enthusiasm for this worthy film. Just as stable currency gains trust through momentum and widespread adoption, this analysis aims to contribute more social capital and create more inertia to raise The Bombardment’s visibility.

A Post-Mortem Review: Tending to the film

Writer-director Bornedal recounts the bombing of the Jeanne d’Arc School in Copenhagen during the Nazi occupation of Denmark in WWII. The school is a short distance from the Dutch Shell House—a building used as Gestapo headquarters. By drawing from social psychology, history, and phenomenology, Bornedal tells the story of Operation: Carthage by dramatizing how the low flying RAF Mosquito bombers successfully destroyed the HQ but also haphazardly and mistakenly decimated the school—killing 87 school children, 18 adults, and wounding many others.

Though such a calamity is tragic under any circumstances, the fact that this one occurs about two months prior to V-E Day makes the deaths even more cutting. To its credit, the film competently organizes several stories into a mostly coherent narrative, and Bornedal’s script and direction not only relies on conventional wartime storytelling but raises additional issues of space, temporality, and structuralism to frame this tragedy.

To sharpen these themes, Bornedal puts us in situ with his characters, and as we linger with families in their homes and kids at school, these spaces and structures serve the story in a few important ways, particularly as places of tension and warmth. But they also function as places of confinement because the war has made these safe spaces ones of conflict and closure. For instance, at the school, we witness the nuns administer, teach, and rehearse a play with their French language students. As the school is dramatized, it promotes socialization, education, and indoctrination.

Then, there is the former Dutch Shell Oil House, the target of the raid, a place of confinement and torture. Bornedal smartly doesn’t linger on the conventional torture scenes, for he underscores an understanding among the prisoners that a bombing will occur that will potentially kill them.

Living in this neighborhood are the families, and the film dramatizes their interior lives as they conflictingly struggle to resolve issues of the occupation. The characters move between their intersecting social spheres, talking and telling stories while witnessing wartime atrocities, such as beatdowns and public executions of Dutch resistance by the Gestapo and their HIPO allies. What triggers the air raid is the successful suppression of the Danish resistance, so the resistance asks the Allies to disrupt Gestapo operations by bombing the HQ.

To his credit, writer-director Bornedal explores a range of compelling themes. The film thoughtfully examines the intersections of mental health, art, education, and the challenges of communicating complex narratives to children. Both Bornedal and editor Anders Villadsen skillfully weave multiple storylines to explore the profound effects of wartime conflicts and crises on both regional and parental perceptions of mental and spiritual well-being. While adults often falter in safeguarding young people’s health, the narrative shows how children demonstrate resilience by redefining themselves through acts of personal bravery.

The film also effectively (and sometimes obviously) parses the differences between public ethics—the statements and actions made in the presence of others, on the job, for example—and the moral decisions made in private or with family. This public-private relationship produces conflicts based on people’s values and social roles, and these conflicts impact children, their families, and the groups and organizations to which many of them belong. For the adults, this tension is seen mostly in Sister Teresa (Fanny Leander Bornedal), as she alternately self-flagellates in her room yet faithfully serves her young students in class, and Frederick (Alex Høgh Andersen), the HIPO auxiliary officer and Gestapo collaborator, who withstands parental heat for his public choices and eventually decides to depart his duties for fear of retaliation.

Just as important, the film does not assign criminal blame to the conscientious pilots for the tragedy. Rather, the story illustrates the arduous conditions and often unforgiving circumstances that explain the attack and the consequential deaths of the children, followed by scenes of grief and relief.”

The film suggests that, despite their problems, families are better equipped than public organizations to address conflicts and provide moral guidance to those who struggle. While the story highlights both the strengths and flaws of parents and their children, it centers on the bond between three kids: country Henry (Bertram Bisgaard Enevoldsen), who comes to live with his urban cousins, Rigmor (Ester Birch) and her sister Eva (Ella Josephine Lund Nilsson). Bornedal draws compelling performances from the young actors, whose characters stand out for their curiosity, vulnerability, and resilience.

The film navigates its primary themes of structure, time, and space with skilled competency. Bornedal effectively illustrates how relationships help create ethical frameworks, particularly through the concept of performance as an ethical construct. This is substantively depicted, for example, with the children rehearsing their play and, more strikingly, Sister Teresa staging a stigmata to prevent Frederick’s rape attempt. Moments like these are complemented by poignant scenes, such as when country Henry—who becomes mute after witnessing a car strafing—is given a voice through his urban cousins’ song and dance. These scenes highlight the film’s tension between art as a tool for indoctrination (via slogans, songs, and plays) and as a means of liberation, revealing untold stories rooted in local historical contexts to a larger audience.

REVIEW: “The Bombardment” (2022) |

Though there are many thought provoking scenes, there are some deleterious directorial choices, as when (early in the film) a Mosquito bomber strafes a car of wedding party members, killing all on board. Bornedal uses the bullet and body ballet effect (ala Bonnie and Clyde) as we witness the occupants spasm while repeatedly shot—and this choice strikes as lazy staging to achieve a cliched effect.

The film lingers on the bakery Death Witch, about whom the kids tell frightful stories, to illustrate the persevering ethics of storytelling (but done once too often). There are other scenes that puzzle. For instance, in the aftermath of the attack, it seems far-fetched that a skilled fire chief would assign a traumatized and voiceless Henry (the chief is unaware of Henry’s traumatic mutism) the task of documenting the names of the children—living and dead—who are being dug out of the wreckage.

Though this important task remotely suggests the witnessed evangelism of young shepherds, country Henry’s tortured communication better follows one of the film’s arguments that the administrative adults (school nuns included) often task young children with adult responsibilities because of the contexts that war creates. Thematically, this scene, among others, focuses on speech-as-reality-making, the long-standing view that articulation is the site where reality is made by rhetors and their audiences. Here, this improbable scene serves as a vehicle for country Henry to get his voice back.

Just as important, the film does not assign criminal blame to the conscientious pilots for the tragedy. Rather, the story illustrates the arduous conditions and often unforgiving circumstances that explain the attack and the consequential deaths of the children, followed by scenes of grief and relief. Otherwise, as a matter of style, the film builds organic transitions among its scenes, such as using the sound at the end of one scene to begin another, an aural anadiplosis to connect the disparate spheres of battle, politics, religion, and education intersecting in a framework of liberation aesthetics. The effectiveness of these poetic transitions is a matter of taste, but this intentionality is a conscious act that reinforces the historiographic framework of the storytelling, one where the artificial conventions of narratives employ stylistic devices to invent, organize, and deliver its themes.

Despite these strengths, the film is not always economical, for it develops some scenes while skimping on Sister Teresa’s turmoil and torment. But the film is engrossing in that it takes the precarious nature of life (and the meanings we infuse with our choices) and dramatizes the importance of the question of being on one hand and intentionality on the other. For example, the bombardiers do not intend to bomb the school. But they do. In the end, Frederick, the HIPO thug, intends to save Sister Theresa, but she spurns him and dives toward Rigmor, who has drowned below in the rising waters of the wrecked school. Quickly thereafter, the weakened structure in which Sister Theresa and Frederick are, collapses.

Netflixable? A tragedy of WWII recreated, “The Bombardment (Skyggen i mit  øje)” | Movie Nation

Both adults, as far as we can tell, perish, and this scene captures what Bornedal is after—examining the structures of human relationships, the ones we build socially and are infused with our meanings, choices, and actions. Rather than fixate on the objects—the buildings, the things that uphold walls and roofs—Bornedal wants us to see people in their moral behavior as pilots, teachers, parents and siblings—beings of ethical actions, ones who emerge from history, speak from the dark, dive into deep waters, get trapped, lose themselves and die—while others find their way home.

There are earnest themes of missions, systems, and circumstances—even ironies. As silent Henry survives the RAF car strafing because he is just under the rise of a small hill, he is sent to the safer place of a more densely Nazi-occupied city. Then there are the British pilots, those who carefully plan and target the urban building. As they fly low to the ground, one plane clips a small tower, spiraling the bomber into the school, and the corresponding damage, fire, and smoke empirically signal to some of the trailing bombardiers to mistakenly bomb the school.

On these terms, the film strikes deeply when focusing on the losses we share when innocent people, families, and children perish through the actions of tyrants and the mistakes of gallant, smart but altogether remarkably ordinary people.

Epilogue as an Antenarrative

What makes The Bombardment compelling is Bornedal’s focus on dramatizing how ethical structures become resilient, particularly the frameworks families and communities build in times of crisis and calamity. But Bornedal’s true aim, however, is in the long-standing stories, the stories that transform and transcend generations. By situating these stories in historically-focused narratives, stories can transcend people and neighborhoods, cities and countries, and reach across space and generational divides.

Because journalistic film reviews are designed for consumer timeliness, they have a short-lived relevance. However, in more extended forms of discourse analysis, these reviews often serve as essential starting points for broader critical discussions. For The Bombardment, however, the sparse and fragmented critiques present an opportunity for discovery—a gap that can be filled by secondary critiques, all of which can socially encourage the formation of an antenarrative that supports the emergence of marginalized, crowdsourced, and niche discourses. These analyses can try to unwork the critical neglect and grow the discourse by encouraging more discussions of The Bombardment.

David Ryan is Academic Director and Faculty Chair of the Master of Arts in Professional Communication at the University of San Francisco. He’s published widely on rhetoric and film studies and is the co-editor of David Fincher’s Zodiac: Cinema of Investigation and (Mis)Interpretation (FDU Press, 2022).

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