Annika. The fantasy of Scandy women in charge.

Dicte. The reality of useless Scandinavian women.

So. We’ve been watching Scandinavian TV shows and movies. It really is a different culture. Our favorite so far is Annika Bengtzon, a journalist who pursues her mission to the detriment of her family and everything else that might get in the way.

She’s Swedish, beautiful, only slightly a slut, and fearless. Best of all, she seems to know what to do when the crap hits the fan. As opposed to her Danish rival Dicte, who is also a journalist, a major slut, and fatally hesitant when she gets into the kinds of situations Annika excels at.

I probably wouldn’t have dreamed up this post except for a user review at IMDB.com, which said this.

Really?

What a crock. Americans have it in their heads that Europeans, perhaps especially Scandinavians, are more sophisticated than we are about sex and the sexes generally. Yeah, the women go to bed at the drop of a hat, but there’s nothing sophisticated about the culture. There’s a weird affect in play. The men have ceased to be men, but the women are, well, infantile, hostage to every stray emotion with no men around to tell them to grow up. Bizarre.

Oh. You wanted specifics? Annika versus Dicte. Both charge blindly into bad situations. Annika has a good jab and fine left hook. Dicte has paralysis, weeping, and usually a bloody nose. Annika walks out on family gatherings to pursue a story. So does Dicte. Annika gets the story. Dicte gets upset, accuses her friends of things she is guilty of, and succeeds in making everything she encounters about her and her alone. She’s also a total idiot. Annika is, impossibly somehow, smart.

We’ve watched a lot of these Scandinavian productions. As with all such things, patterns emerge. The shows tend to be slow, excepting Annika. And the protagonists, men and women both, tend to be slow to react, slow to figure out what’s going on, slow to respond when action is required right now. Immensely frustrating for Americans to watch. They’re lollygagging beside the Saab while the incomprehensibly beautiful blonde teenager is being tortured inside the bleak building and you’re yelling, “Go, go, go go, go!” And they just go, “Yah, Yah,” at each other and make more phone calls.

We liked Wallander because he had an excuse for his dilatory, befuddled ways. He had Alzheimer’s. Well, maybe they all do. Except Annika. Did we mention she’s beautiful?

We like Fortitude. It’s the apotheosis of Scandinavian dramas. Everybody is sleeping with everybody, everybody’s guilty of something, nobody believes in anything, and nothing is ever going to work out right.

Funny. Americans think Lillyhammer is funny because it reminds them of the Sopranos. We think it’s funny because it reminds us of the difference between Americans and Scandinavians. I mean, if you happened on a place of passive, neutered men and moronic women, how much damage could you do?

But to be fair, it’s not just Scandinavians. The French are the same way. The women are nuts. The men are sleazy pantywaists, except for the terrorists. Same thing.

C’est la guerre.