‘Viking’: Hamburg Review

Dir: Stephane Lafleur. Canada. 2022. 104mins.

Everybody wants to feel important, especially a high school gym teacher pretending to be a spaceman. The droll Viking takes a clever concept and builds something achingly funny and also surprisingly touching, introducing us to a painfully ordinary Canadian recruited to be an on-Earth surrogate for an astronaut traveling to Mars. Director Stephane Lafleur has constructed a deadpan office comedy with ironic (and amusingly low-budget) sci-fi trappings, all in service of an unexpectedly thoughtful commentary about people’s desire to make a difference — and how quickly we let delusions of grandeur get in the way once we do.

On paper, Viking could be a claustrophobic psychological thriller, but Lafleur has something lighter in mind

Premiering in Toronto and moving on to Hamburg, this Canadian production will appeal to alternative comedy fans, who should relish the film’s mixture of gentle cringe and pokerfaced laughs. But Viking isn’t all jokes: stars Steve Laplante and Larissa Corriveau lead an ensemble which deftly navigates some tricky tonal shifts, resulting in a picture that’s as much a melancholy love story as it is an existential exploration of a would-be astronaut’s inner space. 

David (Laplante) has been selected to be part of an unconventional interstellar mission: he will mirror an astronaut who is currently flying towards the Red Planet. The mission’s leaders on Earth are concerned that the five astronauts out in space are developing toxic interpersonal issues after being cooped up together for several months, and so they’ve gathered five regular Canadians whose personalities are similar to the astronauts to role-play the disagreements the Mars crew may experience. David, who is playing “John” and is instructed to go by that name and assume his characteristics, soon finds himself at a remote outpost in the desert alongside his fellow surrogates, including “Steven” (Corriveau). They’ll stay there, in isolation, for the next two years.

On paper, Viking could be a claustrophobic psychological thriller, but Lafleur (You’re Sleeping Nicole) has something lighter in mind, savouring the absurdity of his setup. David and “Steven” and their fellow recruits — led by humourless team commander “Janet” (Fabiola N. Aladin) — willingly enter into this strange arrangement, which feels a bit like a fantasy camp for aspiring space explorers. Even funnier, just as “Steven” is a woman playing a man, the people-pleasing “Liz” (Denis Houle) is an older man portraying a younger woman — the characters assuming the same demeanour despite the gender-flip.

Initially, David and his cohorts dutifully go about their daily assignments, appreciating the responsibility they have to “solve” the issues the real astronauts are facing on Mars. But in short order, their harmonious rapport begins breaking down — and, of course, it’s over the pettiest of reasons. First, someone forgets to give back the pen he borrowed from someone else. Then, there’s a dispute about how many sugars they’re allowed to take per cup of coffee. And before long, David decides he needs to organise a vote to remove “Janet” from power. But he is doing that because the communications from Mars indicate that’s the right move? Or does David just not like “Janet”?

With his balding head and dour look, David is the satirical epitome of the unfulfilled middle-aged man. Despite having a seemingly content home life with wife Isabelle (Marie-Laurence Moreau), he longs for something more, which Laplante suggests with only his hangdog expression. Whether it’s early scenes of him having his gym students run meaningless drills or, later, during the mission as he begins to fancy the sardonic “Steven,” who shares his disgruntled worldview, David has an unspoken craving to break free of his humdrum reality. To an increasingly comical (and sometimes upsetting) degree, he takes this mission seriously, not just wanting to help the real astronauts but, in a sense, remake himself as “John.” 

Viking has faint nods to sci-fi classics such as 2001, and it’s a credit to Lafleur that, although these references are mostly cheeky, he nonetheless taps into those pictures’ weighty themes and visionary scope to suggest how the Davids of the world stubbornly hold onto the possibility that their lives could be similarly grand. Andre-Line Beauparlant’s endearingly bargain-basement production design constantly undercuts David’s aspirations — he and his team are conducting their “mission” in a drab bunker that’s like a combination of a submarine and the dreariest office break-room ever — but the occasional interludes depicting his fantasies of visiting Mars incorporate simple but effective special effects. Eventually, the juxtaposition between his dreams and his actual circumstance stops being funny and starts to take on a poignancy that’s intensely moving. David has never stopped reaching for the stars — Viking illustrates what’s both laughable and relatable about such a stance.