JANUARY 2, 2022 – While the mercury flirted with zero-Fahrenheit outside, I binged-watched the eight-episode PBS Masterpiece Theater production, Atlantic Crossing. My executive summary: it’s a . . . masterpiece.
The story’s about the Norwegian Royals (King Haakon VII, (a widower after Queen Maud died in 1938); Crown Prince Olav and Crown Princess Märtha (Olav’s Swedish cousin, whose uncle was Sweden’s King Gustav V) and their three young children, Ragnhild, Astrid, and Harald), during the German occupation (4/9/40 – VE Day) of Norway during WW II. At first torn between surrendering—in the face of overwhelmingly superior German forces—and resisting, the Royals and “loyals” plead for direct help from Britain. Reeling from its own setbacks, however, Britain lacks the resources to aid a Scandinavian country long on coastline but short on people.
The King and Crown Prince flee with the Norwegian government-in-exile to London; the Crown Princess and children cross to her native, neutral Sweden before steaming from northern Finland through the German U-boat-infested North Atlantic to safety in America.
The focus of the film is FDR’s infatuation with the Crown Princess—and the latter’s effort to win direct American support for the Norwegian cause. Big-time #MeToo meets big-time history and roars away—often in a convertible driven by the president himself (the Crown Princess always sitting beside him), as he tries to ditch his Secret Service detail. The Royal marital tension that ensues amidst the war effort is nothing short of exquisite Shakespeare—particularly when FDR’s other love interest (his assistant) and his business relationship with powerhouse Eleanor are in the mix. The story is replete with poignant, supportive, superbly portrayed side stories.
All elements of refined, exemplary filmmaking are on display in this production. The main course is a stew of moral and strategic dilemmas. When defenseless Norway is invaded by Juggernaut Germany, Norwegians face a Hobson’s choice: merciless subjugation in retaliation for resistance or brutal, ignoble occupation following surrender.
The dilemma also runs deep in neutral Sweden—where King Gustav V refers to Hitler as “an old friend” and “reasonable man” and threatens to abdicate if the country adopts anti-German policies. (How easy for us of Swedish ancestry to say, “The Swedes rescued many Jews”—an over-simplification given that Sweden avoided invasion in exchange for critical iron ore and German troop transit between Norway and Finland and by the inconvenient fact that Göring’s wife was a Swede.)
From a larger perspective, the viewer is forced to grapple with American neutrality—and isolationism, led by none other than a Minnesotan of Swedish descent, aviator Charles Lindbergh, who was buddies with . . . Göring et alia. Isolationism coursed deep in American politics. But if war of any kind is immoral, inhumane, and irrational, what is moral, humane, and rational policy in the face of war unleashed by madmen? What moral principles survive within tolerance in the face of intolerance? When do ends justify means? Atlantic Crossing forces these questions upon the viewer.
The series is worth watching, because it’s worth thinking about long after you’ve finished watching.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
