True crime meets telenovela in Maria Frederiksson’s enthralling feature documentary debut. When Frederiksson got the call from a Norwegian woman who talked to her of a miracle that took place, little did she realise what story she would finally end up with, but the resulting tale is documentary gold. To say that truth is stranger than fiction would be a massive understatement when talking about The Gullspång Miracle.
The initial storyline is of two devout Christian sisters, May and Kari. May is on holiday visiting Kari in Sweden. “It all starts with the whale,” says one of them. The whale in question is a ride at a theme park where May breaks her tailbone and has to stay in town. Looking for an apartment where she can recuperate, she comes across a painting hanging in a kitchen. That painting (actually a framed cross-stitch piece) leads her to impulsively take on the lease. When the two sisters eventually go to sign the documents, they meet the owner and that’s where the miracle takes place: sitting before them is a woman, Olaug, who is the spitting image of their dead sister Lita, who took her own life in 1988. Is she their sister? Is she her twin? Who the hell is she and what the hell is going on?
From here on in, the story takes twists and turns that would put the most outrageous soap opera storyline to shame: hidden twins, fostered children, Nazis, embezzlement, police incompetence, religious fanaticism, family feuds and possibly an unsolved murder all play their part. The film is further aided by the characters involved in this saga, who all appear cherry-picked from a casting agency, so wonderfully dotty and naturally at ease in front of the camera they are.
However, if at first the audience is invited to laughingly enjoy this seemingly heart-warming story, it soon becomes clear that this is not going to be a feel-good family. Frederiksson signposts this by using some devices often seen in true-crime re-enactments. As the director delves into the family’s past and Lita’s untimely death, at some point she voices her exasperation with the family, who seem willing to brush under the carpet or dismiss major developments, such as when they get the results of their DNA tests. Frederiksson is also happy to show how she manipulates her subjects as she walks them through how they should speak and stand on camera.
In fact, there is a lot of manipulation in this film, much of it with the truth. As the story unfolds, getting darker with every new plotline, some of the people involved show a darker and frankly worrying side to their personality. The family’s willingness to ignore facts and their reluctance to search for the truth shows how easy it can be to manipulate your past and create an existence based on your own truths, however far from reality it might be.
Frederiksson leaves viewers with more questions than answers. Who is lying? Who is related to whom? What really happened on the day Lita died? The final line – a voice message from Olaug to her niece – is the ultimate cliff hanger. The film leaves you begging for a sequel, a podcast, a series…anything that allows you to remain in the company of these larger-than-life characters whilst simultaneously being eternally grateful you’re (hopefully) not related to any of them.
