Bron/Broen, Part II

On rewatching Bron/Broen, I’m noticing a unifying vision similar to that of Insomnia. The theme of the series gets reinforced again and again in scene after scene. It’s all about connections, or the lack thereof. Around the hopeful but uncertain partnership of the main pair circle several other relationships in various stages of disrepair. A brother and sister reunite after a long separation, but in near-death circumstances. A husband and wife who should be looking forward to recovery after illness find their bond shattered instead. A mother and daughter can barely look at each other or hold a conversation, with potentially devastating consequences.

The second time around the theme almost hits you over the head. The first time I saw it, I was too busy trying to work out how all these subplots connect to the main storyline to see the way they create layer after layer of subtle variation. I only picked up on the unity of the whole.

The series is also consciously self-referential, in a way that creates another layering effect. The killer wants to draw attention to social issues like inequality and homelessness, but does it the wrong way—through violent spectacle. I had the strong sense that the creators of the show recognize a kinship with their violent creation. A solid chunk of the action at the outset comes from following a man who may be a social worker—or the killer—as he deals with an addict, and helps the addict’s partner flee domestic violence. The show seems to be saying, Haven’t I brought these serious issues to your attention in an entertaining way? Isn’t it fun to guess whether this guy is the hero or the villain? You later get a clue that this extra dimension is intentional when a character confuses the psychological profile of the killer with qualities that would make one a good police captain. The killer’s attributes bleed into places it shouldn’t, infusing the whole.

I mentioned in my preface to the series that several Nordic Noir books and TV shows seem to pick up on the more progressive elements of the British/American crime genre, and expand on them. They often explore feminist problems and themes. Bron/Broen attempts to tackle an array of social problems, in its self-consciously shallow way. The general impulse of crime fiction, however, tends to be conservative. Usually, the crime creates a disturbance, tearing the social fabric, and the detective repairs the breach. Mayhem may rule for a brief time, but order is restored and the status quo upheld. It strikes me that Bron/Broen gropes toward a progressive form of order. Its main character, Saga, follows procedure even when it is inconvenient, or works against her other goals. She makes a complaint against her new co-worker, Martin, for bending the rules, even as she clearly wants to become friends with him. She is always pointing out how other police officers cut corners and do low-standard or even corrupt work. This is a reason she is so unpopular with the rest of her office. Saga wants order not just for the outside world, but for the detectives themselves.

The creators of Bron/Broen, self-aware as they are, would not make too many claims about their ability to remake the genre, but they do hint at some possibilities for it. I have no doubt that its broader vision accounts for a great deal of its popularity.