Film Review: The Guilty (Den skyldige, 2018)

In an age of sensory overload—where blockbusters are defined by CGI spectacle, rapid cuts, and globe-trotting narratives—Gustav Möller’s The Guilty (2018) stands as a masterclass in narrative restraint and psychological tension. Rooted firmly in the classical unities of time, place, and action—a principle more commonly associated with ancient drama than contemporary cinema—this Danish thriller defies modern expectations by confining its entire story to a single room, a police emergency call centre. Yet, far from feeling static or stagebound, The Guilty pulses with urgency, proving that compelling cinema can thrive within the narrowest of frames.

The film’s premise is deceptively simple. Officer Asger Holm (Jakob Cedergren), awaiting a disciplinary hearing for an undisclosed incident, is assigned to desk duty as an emergency dispatcher. Through a series of phone calls, he intercepts what appears to be a routine domestic disturbance. But Holm’s instincts—sharpened by years on the beat—detect something amiss in the voice of a young woman, Iben (Jessica Dinnage), who seems to be feigning a conversation with her child while subtly signalling distress. What follows is a race against time as Holm, unable to leave his post, uses only his voice, his wits, and his access to police databases to orchestrate a rescue.

Möller’s direction is both austere and ingenious. The camera rarely strays from Holm’s face or the cluttered desk before him; the world beyond exists solely through muffled voices on the telephone. This technique, reminiscent of early radio drama or early television stage adaptations, demands active engagement from the audience. We, like Holm, must piece together a harrowing reality from fragmented audio cues—a gasp, a whimper, a sudden silence. In this regard, The Guilty shares a lineage with Sidney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men (1957), another single-location drama where moral and psychological tension unfolds within four walls. Both films demonstrate that confinement can heighten drama rather than diminish it, turning spatial limitation into narrative intensity.

What elevates The Guilty beyond mere formal exercise is its emotional and ethical depth. Holm is no infallible hero; he is flawed, impatient, and haunted by past failures. His obsessive involvement in Iben’s case becomes a form of penance, blurring the line between duty and desperation. Cedergren’s performance is nothing short of extraordinary—he conveys fear, frustration, arrogance, and vulnerability through subtle shifts in tone and expression, often with no more than a furrowed brow or a tightening jaw. The supporting cast, though never seen, are equally compelling; their voices (particularly Dinnage’s) carry weight and texture, making the unseen world feel startlingly real.

Möller wisely infuses the film’s early moments with dry, observational humour—dispatchers dealing with drunken callers, bureaucratic frustrations—that grounds the narrative in authenticity. This realism makes the subsequent descent into dread all the more effective. When the plot twists arrive—and they do, with devastating precision—they feel earned rather than contrived, a rarity in the thriller genre. The film’s climax, which reveals the true nature of Holm’s past transgression and its connection to the present crisis, delivers a moral reckoning that lingers long after the credits roll.

Admittedly, the film’s final moments flirt with the overly symbolic: a momentary blackout that mirrors Holm’s psychological collapse risks tipping into pretension. And yes, the protagonist’s arc follows a somewhat familiar trajectory of redemption through sacrifice—a trope Hollywood has rendered cliché. But these minor flaws are outweighed by the film’s cumulative power and restraint.

It is perhaps telling that Hollywood, ever eager to remake foreign successes, produced a 2021 English-language version starring Jake Gyllenhaal. Despite a strong lead performance, the remake was widely considered inferior—an over-explained, emotionally manipulative shadow of Möller’s lean and evocative original. Where the Danish film trusted its audience to infer, imagine, and feel, the remake spelled everything out, robbing the story of its essential ambiguity and tension.

RATING: 8/10 (+++)

(Note: The text in the original Croatian version was posted here.)

Blog in Croatian https://draxblog.com
Blog in English https://draxreview.wordpress.com/
InLeo blog https://inleo.io/@drax.leo

LeoDex: https://leodex.io/?ref=drax
Hiveonboard: https://hiveonboard.com?ref=drax
InLeo: https://inleo.io/signup?referral=drax.leo
Rising Star game: https://www.risingstargame.com?referrer=drax
1Inch: https://1inch.exchange/#/r/0x83823d8CCB74F828148258BB4457642124b1328e

BTC donations: 1EWxiMiP6iiG9rger3NuUSd6HByaxQWafG
ETH donations: 0xB305F144323b99e6f8b1d66f5D7DE78B498C32A7
BCH donations: qpvxw0jax79lhmvlgcldkzpqanf03r9cjv8y6gtmk9