Clark is a uniquely foreign perspective on true crime, which means it’s something that even someone of a trend-despising persuasion can get into.
While everyone’s heard of Stockholm Syndrome, few know of the man behind it. Clark Olofsson. The man has been referred to as the first Swedish celebrity gangster (does Sweden have more than one?) and rightly so, since his criminal career seems to be as uniquely shaped by his horrid upbringing as it is by his native’s country shockingly lenient penal system. As a boy, Clark has managed to survive his objectively horrible family and abusive father, blossoming into a youth so charming that none can resist, not friends, not the ladies. Bill Skarsgård (the current hot Skarsgård since Alexander seems to be taking it easy) embodied Clark perfectly. It’s the first time I’ve seen him perform in his native language—he even does a voice—and it is most impressive. As an actor, he has a lot to do in his role, going from a teen to forty or so, and maintaining a boyish charm while being a comically terrible person. There is a vulnerability behind the self-absorbed, wildly arrogant façade, a softness behind the madness. The writer/director throws in everything from action scenes to dance sequences. It has a particular wildness that American cinema doesn’t quite do right, but it does with strikingly unEuropean chaste stops short of full frontal (though Clark’s pubes make frequent appearances). Still, you got to give credit where credit’s due: Clark is a someone who seduces and abandons women, fathers children he doesn’t see, commits crime after crime, once even stabbing a man seventeen times, and he is still a compelling character to watch, humanized consistently beneath all his self-mythologizing. But he is a mystery, too. Smart but consistently stupid, he gets caught with suspicious frequency, almost as if he wants to be back in prison. And he does spend a significant part of his life behind bars. Though bars in Sweden appear to be of a very soft variety. The stabbing that nearly killed a man earned Clark just two years. And then there are the constant furloughs. Why? What bright idea is that to let criminals roam around free for a while and then get back to prison? In fact, the stabbing occurs on one such furlough, two weeks before his scheduled release, no less. Other furloughs result in Clark fleeing justice and/or the country altogether. As much as he loved his prison stays, he loved breaking out too. And he loved women, Wildly and frequently. And despite his tendency to prematurely ejaculate, they loved him back. Marrying him, reproducing with him. Just goes to show you how far people will go to touch a celebrity. And that’s the moral here. Clark is like a much, much milder and saner version of American Ted Bundy, coasting by on infamy and good looks to the sort of popularity no criminal should have. But his very existence makes you examine the society that created him, because every pedestal was built by somebody. Clark the TV series ends in the 80s with its lead once again locked-up and unrepentant. Sure enough, he continued carrying on exactly as he was, learning nothing, emerging from one slap-on-the-wrist punishment after another straight back into the life of crime. And love, apparently. At the time of this review’s writing, Clark Olofsson is 77 years old, currently free, with a fiancée and a new kid, his 6th. Either retired or in between gigs. Probably happy. The final verdict – fun to watch. If you do get dragged down into the mire of the current true crime obsession, Clark’s practically a must-see TV.
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