On 22 July

The label docu-drama has been attached to the work of Paul Greengrass as far back as 1999 with his TV movie The Murder of Stephen Lawrence. 22 July is his latest film to share this label and by being a Netflix production has led to the streaming service loosening their rules over cinema distribution, a format that would benefit 22 July with its sweeping Norwegian vistas.

Docu-drama is something of an odd label, slightly paradoxical perhaps. Documentary is about representing a real life event, and it cannot just be the use of actors that demands the drama label be attached, otherwise we could say Spielberg’s Lincoln (2012) or Nolan’s Dunkirk (2017) are docu-dramas. Neither of which have been described as such. The reason Greengrass’ work is likely to attract this sobriquet is his distinctive directorial style that aims to mimic footage that is being shot ‘in the moment’ and the coldness of his approach that means finding his bias is harder. 22 July (even the title is designed to appear impartial) is no more a documentary than Dunkirk is. It just assumes the iconography of the genre.

22 July is perhaps his coldest film. By opening with the attacks we have no time to form any connections with the characters and while the event we witness is horrific, we aren’t drawn into it. This detachment runs throughout the film and the desire to show the aftermath of the attack from both sides is admirable, yet oddly disaffecting as there are two sides here and right and wrong are clear. Breivik is cold and his court appearance is likely taken from the footage of him actually in court. But his victims, despite their suffering feel equally distant.

The film is interesting and balances the victims, attacker and government well, while managing to place it all into wider political context that remains relevant today. It is therefore perhaps a film most admired for its script and editing.