War Sailor is one of the most horrifying war films in recent – and all – history as it explores the human cost that accompany war outside the battlegrounds; humanity torn down with the inescapable despair of lost souls.

Five stars for 'War Sailor'

When I think of war films, I tend to immediately jump to the sensationalised action/dramas that picture war as a gruesome bloodbath, battalions painting battlefields as cries for King and country are drowned out by sonic shrapnel.

I think of Dunkirk’s tense soundtrack that left nail marks on my cinema seat; of Saving Private Ryan’s Omaha Beach, and Apocalypse Now’s helicopter blades, but writer and director Gunnar Vikene tosses aside the impassioned patriotism for a more human story; one that is grounded in European sensibilities and is more compelling for it.

War Sailor, while firmly set in the throes of war, is a tragic epic that hones in on the effects that combat has outside the frontline and on those caught in conflicts that they don’t care for.

Norwegian lifelong friends and sailors Alfred (Kristoffer Joner) and Sigbjørn (Pål Sverre Hagen) are forced to enlist with the Allies, transporting ammunitions and supplies from Liverpool to Malta to New York while Alfred’s family waits for his return or worse, a letter with his name amongst the dead of a sunken ship.

Vikine spreads his decade-spanning epic across two-and-a-half hours, a run time that is growing in popularity but is rarely utilised to its full potential; this being one of those rare cases. As Alfred and Sigbjørn barely struggle to survive, Vikine uses his time efficiently and carefully, never repeating himself and always sticking to the same captivating goal: make it back home alive.

I now know which war film will always spring to mind

Yet the film is not without its action, except the telling difference between Hollywood’s romanticised heroics, and this is that all the combat is one-sided.

Bound by history’s blood… Pål Sverre Hagen & Kristoffer Joner. Image: Falkun Films.

Germans drop bombs and fire torpedoes and massacre masses while children hide and bodies float amidst the sinking ships; a brutality so intense that Vikine uses it with wise restraint.

There are no unneeded attention-seeking special effects, no unrealistic high-octane chases where bullets magically miss, only a harsh reality that grips with a chilling hand and never lets go.

It may seem that the film’s greatest successes are found in its Homeric plot – combining the Iliad’s brotherly love with the Odyssey’s tragic war-wrought return – War Sailor uses every tool in the cinema shed with expert craftsmanship.

When Alfred and Sigbjørn are stranded at sea, the camera slowly pans across the empty horizon as an eerie orchestra weeps hopeless notes, setting the scene without the need for a single word.

That is what makes War Sailor so holistically perfect: what it doesn’t do rather than what it does. The cast are rarely prone to emotional outbursts, so when young Maggie (Henrikke Lund Olsen) cries for a father she will never see again, it not only hits the gut but sits there like a stone, heavy and ever-present.

And as hard as I try to move on, War Sailor still sits with me, replaying in my mind and leaving me with a single certainty: I now know which war film will always spring to mind, provoked or not.