Based on the real-life story of World War II resistance fighter Gunnar Sønsteby, “Number 24” is a sturdy, handsomely mounted period piece depicting the emotional toll required for freedom. It begins with an elderly Sønsteby  preparing to speak to a group of young students in Rjukan. Andersen’s observational camera takes a documentary approach, leaning on evocative zooms to capture a nervous Sønsteby anxiously biting down on a stick before appearing on stage. He has given this speech many times, but it’s clear the accessing of these difficult memories — “the fifth drawer in his mind” as he calls it — still causes him immeasurable distress.

Through Sønsteby’s lecture we jump back and forth from his presentation to his memories. We leap backwards to 1937 Rjukan. Sønsteby is hiking in the mountains with his best friend Erling Solheim. Elsewhere, the Nazis are burning books, but only one of these men is frightened. Solheim believes the Nazis aren’t so bad; they’re only targeting communists. Sønsteby, as you can guess, has other thoughts on the matter. The ideological split between friends will fade into the background but will nevertheless be felt in every scene of this nerve-wracking drama.

Despite the intense tone of the film and its opening scene, the young Sønsteby is rarely flustered. He is a single-minded, meticulous planner whose quiet doggedness makes him an appealing recruit for Norway’s ragtag resistance. Sønsteby becomes part of the army, then becomes a publisher of anti-Nazi tracts, before finally finding his place as a spy code-named “Number 24.” Soon, Sønsteby’s high-profile missions put him in the crosshairs of the Nazis. But Sønsteby is too nimble to be caught; he possesses multiple names, multiple passports and identification papers, and innumerable apartments. It’s a nice bit of cat and mouse that Anderson doesn’t overplay. Sønsteby isn’t a charismatic figure whose tight escapes we take pleasure in. In fact, he derides his comrades for succumbing to distractions like women and drinking. Simply put: Sønsteby’s seeming unremarkable nature allows him to perform remarkable acts. 

Available on NETFLIX.