John Andreas Andersen
Numero 24

Number 24, directed by John Andreas Andersen, goes beyond being a simple tribute to Gunnar Sonsteby, the most decorated hero in Norwegian history, and transforms into an intense reflection on moral dilemmas, courage, and personal sacrifices required in times of war. And above all, what a human being is willing to sacrifice for freedom.

The narrative, as already seen in hundreds of other films, develops on two temporal levels: the first follows the Norwegian Resistance during World War II, focusing on the bold and risky actions of Sonsteby, played by Sjur Vatne Brean. The second level takes us to a school auditorium, where an elderly Sonsteby (Erik Hivju) shares his experience with younger generations, challenging them to reflect on values like freedom and democracy. But this continuous reference serves to compare two different mindsets: that of those who have lived the conflict on the front lines and those who, today, enjoy privileges dearly bought, paid with lives, by others.

Sonsteby is not presented as an unblemished and fearless hero. He is portrayed with psychological depth, displaying both his discipline and ingenuity, but also the emotional fragility of his choices. Sonsteby gives up his identity, transforming into the mysterious Number 24, living undercover, continually changing hideouts and adopting new identities to escape the Gestapo. The nomadic Sonsteby, with his ruthless lucidity, makes him an enigmatic and complex figure. He was a brilliant saboteur and planner, with a granite determination to the cause, but it forced him into emotional isolation, sacrificing not only his personal life but also his humanity.

The film does not fail to address the difficult transition from war to peace. Returning to normal life after experiencing so much horror is anything but a linear process, and Andersen manages to bring it to the screen with measured sensitivity.

The sequences set during the war are particularly powerful, characterized by icy photography and high tension. Cold tones and raw images are used to convey the essence of the combat and their inevitable brutality, as well as the torture suffered by members of the Resistance. The pain of loss is emphasized, highlighting the loss of life as the highest price paid by those young individuals.

Parallelly, the lectures held by the elderly Sonsteby represent another fundamental aspect of the film. Sonsteby recounts his deeds, the young listeners challenge him, questioning his choices and the consequences his actions provoked. This confrontation between past and present opens an important debate: how justifiable is violence when fighting for freedom? And what moral scars does this struggle leave?

The attempt by the director to create a connection between the elder Sonsteby and the youth of the present, especially in the figure of a particularly critical girl, at times appears somewhat forced. The conclusion, although consistent with the overall tone of the film, struggles to find a balance between the heroic figure of Sonsteby and the invitation for the audience to draw their own conclusions on the meaning of freedom and resistance.

Nevertheless, Number 24 remains a well-constructed, multi-layered film, capable of touching deep chords in the viewer.

The performance of the actors, particularly that of Sjur Vatne Brean, is convincing and intense; Andersen's direction succeeds in balancing action and introspection, with a meditation on the price of the conquest of freedom and the multiple human nuances for its achievement.