Bron/Broen

“Wan good thing the last decade has given us is Scandinavian telly. A fecken GODSEND is what it’s been.” - Marian Keyes

Bron is Swedish for “the bridge.” Broen is the Danish. The show was a coproduction of the Swedish and Danish public broadcasting companies SVT and DR. In it, Swedish and Danish police forces must work together after discovering a body on the Øresund bridge, right on the border between the two countries. The lead Swedish investigator, Saga Norén, meticulous and exacting to the point of absurdity, is apparently on the spectrum. The Danish policeman seconded to the investigation, the schlumpy Martin Rhode, has a softer touch and a far easier manner with co-workers and witnesses—even across a language barrier. Saga and Martin make an odd pair, and play with gender roles in a dynamic reminiscent of Mulder and Scully from The X-Files. Saga is the hard-headed rationalist, Martin the one who feels his way forward via instinct.

Bron/Broen is objectively a great show. The proof is that it was widely imitated, spawning several international versions, such as The Tunnel featuring an English and French pair of detectives and The Bridge set on the U.S./Mexico border. Although I have a lot more context for the world of the imitations—being well-aware of stereotypes about the French, for example, or hearing near-daily news stories from the Mexican border—they pale in comparison to the original. In my estimation it is Sofia Helin’s performance as Saga that makes it so riveting.

I was thoroughly consumed by the series when I watched it in the fall of 2012, staying up late to watch just one more episode—and then one more. And maybe one more after that! If you asked me at the time what was so compelling, I might have remarked on the style of it, the high concept of the double jurisdiction, or even the strength of the performances. Now I understand, watching it again, that what really drew me in was the contrast between Saga’s cruel co-workers and her understanding boss, and the way that one successful relationship of hers creates the chance for a second, with Martin. Their budding partnership is a living thing, fragile, rife with misunderstanding, but also holding great promise, because of Martin’s ability to absorb the unexpected and Saga’s hidden yearning for acceptance. It’s a surprisingly poignant connection, amidst the darkness surrounding the pair.

I noticed this time around that every scene between Saga and her boss made me hold my breath, because of his evident care for her. And in addition to subtle parallels to the newer acquaintance with Martin, the boss also directly removes an obstacle between them, helping Saga get out of her own way.

Throughout these series of essays, I have wondered why stories like Bron/Broen work so well, or what it is that appeals to me so much about them. Is it something inherent about the storytellers? Is it something to do with people like me—or Marian Keyes—as an audience? When I was reading John-Henri Holmberg’s reminiscence of Stieg Larsson, I was struck by his emphasis on Larsson’s intimate familiarity with British and American detective fiction, particularly detective fiction written by women. Larsson read everything he could get his hands on—in the original. Because of course a huge percentage of the Swedish or Danish or Norwegian population do speak English, and they consume a ton of English-language media. There is a slight tilt toward British media over American in that market, because of proximity, or affinity. The Swedish or Danish public broadcasting companies were modeled after the BBC, down to the TV license fee that first supported them. As production companies, they are also more of a parallel to British ones, tending toward limited series rather than the American network schedule, and having a smaller pool of actors to work with, which creates more of an ensemble effect.

I doubt it was a coincidence that the pairing in Bron/Broen reminded me of the X-files. The Danish series Borgen was explicitly modeled after The West Wing. You get the sense from all the women detectives in Scandinavian fiction and TV that they watched the Prime Suspect series with Helen Mirren and decided to reflect that back forty times over. Having been the sort of child who watched Masterpiece Theater every Sunday and Mystery every Thursday, I have large sections of Prime Suspect memorized. So the creators of Saga Norén and I have a common vernacular. Now that I think about it, the relationship between Saga and her boss calls to mind the relationship Jane Tennison had with her one supportive male colleague.

I begin to get an answer for the question prompting this series of mine. I assume the most appealing aspect of this Scandinavian mirror is that it is more openly feminist than British or American media—so the writers particularly seize on the more progressive end of things and tease out the vexing issues that relate to gender roles, the tension between work and life, and how to be a woman in the world. The most challenging aspect, for me, is that this mirror picks up on and amplifies the shadows or the darkness in the images it reflects, not content with the coziness that prevailed on my old Thursday nights.