Vi bygger landet: A relic of political filmmaking

Is this for you?

If you're a fan of historical oddities or specifically interested in how governments used cinema to tell people how to vote, you might get a kick out of Vi bygger landet. If you’re looking for a relaxing Friday night flick, look elsewhere. This is a very earnest, very specific piece of agitprop that isn't afraid to stop the plot dead in its tracks just to lecture you on the virtues of cooperation.

It’s not exactly The Monster and the Girl in terms of pacing, that's for sure. It has this singular, laser-focused mission to motivate the rural vote, and it does not care if you find the dialogue a little stiff. It feels like someone shouting at you from a podium, but with nice lighting.

The vibe

The film has that distinct 1930s earnestness where everyone looks like they’re about to burst into a heroic pose at any second. There’s a scene about halfway through—I think it involves the workers near the barn—where the blocking gets so rigid I started wondering if the actors were actually terrified of moving too far to the left. It’s deeply human in its awkwardness.

The cinematography is surprisingly sturdy for something that was basically a pamphlet turned into a movie. Olav Dalgard clearly knew how to frame a shot to make labor look grand and important. There’s a sequence involving a plow that goes on for about thirty seconds too long, which is where you realize this isn't trying to be subtle.

Small observations

• The way Fredrik Barth holds his pipe. It’s like he’s holding the entire destiny of the nation in his teeth.
• The extras in the background. Sometimes they look like they’d rather be literally anywhere else, which is honestly the most relatable part of the whole experience.
• The music. It’s very loud. It really wants you to feel inspired, even when you're just looking at a field.

Watching this made me think of Anna-Clara och hennes bröder, though they have entirely different goals. Both have that sense of place, but where one feels like a story, this one feels like a list of chores you’re being guilted into completing. It’s not a bad experience, but you do feel the weight of the commission behind it.

It's weirdly fascinating how films like this try to build a sense of community through pure, unfiltered rhetoric. It doesn't quite have the charm of Comin' Thro' the Rye, but it has a specific, dusty kind of integrity. You can tell they believed in what they were doing, even if the result feels more like a lecture than a story. 🛠️