The Trip

There’s a specific brand of matrimonial rot that only Northern European cinema seems to capture with such cheerful, nihilistic malice. Forget the polite bickering of American rom-coms or the weeping existentialism of Ingmar Bergman; when Lars and Lisa head to their remote lakeside cabin, they aren’t packing couples-therapy worksheets. They’re packing hammers and industrial-strength stun guns. It’s the kind of premise that makes you lean forward, not because you want to see a marriage saved, but because you want to see who’s better at being bad.

I watched The Trip on a Tuesday night while trying to ignore a persistent notification that my car insurance was due, and honestly, Lars’s financial desperation suddenly felt a lot more relatable than I cared to admit. That’s the hook of Tommy Wirkola’s 2021 dark comedy: it takes the mundane frustrations of a failing marriage—the money troubles, the career envy, the petty "who left the milk out" resentment—and escalates them until someone is literally reaching for a meat cleaver.

A Match Made in Malice

The film stars Aksel Hennie as Lars, a frustrated soap opera director, and Noomi Rapace as Lisa, an actress whose career consists mostly of uncredited background work. They hate each other with a purity that is almost refreshing. Aksel Hennie plays Lars as a frantic, sweaty ball of insecurity, while Noomi Rapace brings a cold, calculating steeliness to Lisa that reminds you why she’s one of the best in the business.

The first act is a masterclass in building tension through silence and side-eyes. We know they both have a plan. We know the cabin is isolated. We know the "trip" is a lie. But just as the film threatens to become a standard War of the Roses retread, Tommy Wirkola pulls the rug out. I won't spoil the exact nature of the shift, but let’s just say that three escaped convicts—led by a delightfully menacing Atle Antonsen—show up at the worst possible moment. Suddenly, the couple has to decide if they hate each other more than they hate the guys currently holding them at gunpoint in their basement.

The Wirkola Way: Blood and Punchlines

If you’ve seen Tommy Wirkola’s other work, like the Nazi-zombie romp Dead Snow or the surprisingly fun Violent Night, you know he doesn't do "subtle" gore. He does "Looney Tunes with a chainsaw" gore. There is a specific sequence involving a lawnmower that is so absurdly over-the-top I found myself laughing and gagging simultaneously. Wirkola directs action like a kid playing with action figures in a blender.

What makes this work in a contemporary context is how it balances the cynicism of the streaming era with old-school practical effects. In an age where every third blockbuster looks like it was rendered on a dying laptop, seeing actual squibs, messy makeup, and physical stunts feels like a luxury. The effects team, including Jesper Kjölsrud, clearly had a blast finding new ways to mutilate the human body. It’s messy, it’s wet, and it feels earned. The film avoids the "clean" look of many Netflix originals, opting instead for a gritty, lived-in cabin aesthetic that makes the eventual bloodbath pop against the wood-paneled walls.

Streaming the Scandinavian Slasher

Released during the mid-pandemic streaming boom, The Trip is a perfect example of the "Netflix discovery." Ten years ago, a Norwegian-language pitch-black comedy about a murderous couple might have languished in the back corner of a boutique video store. Today, it’s a global hit because the algorithm knows we all love a bit of festive carnage. It reflects our current moment perfectly—a cynical, high-stakes thriller that acknowledges how polarized and defensive we’ve all become, even within our own homes.

The film also avoids the trap of "elevated horror" pretension. It isn't trying to be a metaphor for grief or generational trauma (thank God). It’s an entertainment machine designed to keep you guessing and keep you wincing. Aksel Hennie spends half the movie looking like a discarded Muppet that’s been through a woodchipper, and his commitment to the physical comedy of Lars’s incompetence is what keeps the movie grounded. He and Noomi Rapace have an anti-chemistry that is genuinely electric. You aren't rooting for them to reconcile; you're rooting for them to survive just so they can keep arguing.

The Trip is a reminder that even in an era of franchise fatigue and bloated budgets, a simple, mean-spirited idea executed with enough energy can still feel fresh. It’s a blood-soaked riot that understands exactly what it is: a nasty little thriller with a wicked sense of humor. If you’re looking for a film that captures the feeling of a marriage that’s gone off the rails—and then off a cliff—this is your ticket. Just maybe don't watch it with your spouse if you've been arguing about the bills lately.

The pacing is relentless, the kills are creative, and the ending hits a note of dark irony that feels completely satisfying. It’s one of the few contemporary films that manages to be genuinely shocking without feeling exploitative. Whether you're here for the Scandinavian scenery or the industrial-sized woodchippers, you’re going to have a good time. Just make sure your car insurance is paid up first.