When his son is murdered by drug smugglers, Stellan Skarsgård’s snowplower pulls a Charlie Bronson on the Oslo underworld. Hans Petter Moland’s slapstick Nordic noir is pitched between ’s straight-faced fatalism and the tongue-in-cheek torture porn of , with all the tonal issues that implies.

After bothering to imbue its characters with human quirks (baddie Pal Sverre Hagen might be cinema’s angriest vegan), it massacres th📖em without mercy. It’s not without its moments, but more comic dexterity and less brute force would have made a less choppy watch.