History is messy. It’s rarely the clean, heroic narrative we see in textbooks, and when it comes to Vidkun Quisling, the mess is almost overwhelming. Most people know his name as a synonym for "traitor," but the actual end of his life—the period covered so intensely in the film Quisling: The Final Days (or Quislings siste dager)—is a claustrophobic psychological drama that actually happened. This isn't just about a movie, though. It's about the real-time collapse of a man who genuinely believed he was Norway's savior while the rest of the world watched him sell his soul to the Nazis.
He sat in a cell.
Imagine the silence of Møllergata 19, the police station in Oslo. By May 1945, the "Minister President" was no longer giving grand speeches. He was a prisoner. The film, directed by Erik Poppe, does something gutsy by focusing on the relationship between Quisling and Peder Olsen, a real-life priest who was tasked with being his spiritual advisor. It’s a fascinating lens. You’ve got a man who caused immeasurable suffering, now facing a priest who is trying to find a shred of remorse in a soul that seems entirely convinced of its own righteousness.
The Psychological Trap of Quisling: The Final Days
Why do we care about a dead traitor in 2026? Because the psychological profile is terrifyingly relevant. Quisling wasn’t a cartoon villain. He was a high-achieving officer, a humanitarian who worked with Fridtjof Nansen to save millions from famine in Russia, and a man who thought he was the only one smart enough to navigate the "New Order."
In Quisling: The Final Days, Gard B. Eidsvold plays him with this brittle, terrifying ego. He doesn't think he’s a traitor. That’s the crux of the whole thing. He thinks he’s a martyr. When you watch the depiction of his final months, you aren't seeing a man repent; you're seeing a man try to rewrite history as it's crushing him.
The film relies heavily on the diaries of Peder Olsen. These aren't invented for Hollywood. Olsen actually spent those final days in that cramped cell, trying to get Quisling to admit to the deportation of Norwegian Jews. That is the moral anchor. Out of the 773 Norwegian Jews deported to camps, only 38 survived. Quisling signed those orders. In the quiet of his cell, he tried to claim he didn't know what would happen to them.
Honestly, the lack of accountability is the most human part of the story. It’s easier to live with yourself if you pretend the blood on your hands is just red ink.
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What Really Happened at Akershus Fortress?
The trial was a circus, but a necessary one. Norway hadn't used the death penalty in decades. They actually had to change the law—or rather, reinstate an older interpretation of the military code—to ensure he could be executed. People were angry. They wanted him gone yesterday.
But the legal process in Quisling: The Final Days shows the tension of a democracy trying to stay a democracy while dealing with a monster. If you just drag him into the street and shoot him, you’re no better than the regime he served. So, they gave him a trial. They gave him a defense lawyer, Henrik Bergh, who did a job he hated because he believed in the rule of law.
- The trial lasted from August 20 to September 10, 1945.
- The charges included high treason, murder, and theft.
- Quisling spoke for hours, defending his "vision" for a Nordic union.
It was a delusional performance. He compared himself to Saint Olaf. He genuinely thought that, in a hundred years, Norwegians would build statues of him. Instead, his name became an entry in the Oxford English Dictionary for "traitor." Even Winston Churchill used the term "quisling" in his speeches to describe the "vile race of quislings" popping up across Europe.
The Priest and the Execution
The heart of the story is the struggle for Quisling’s "confession." Peder Olsen, played by Anders Danielsen Lie, is the surrogate for the audience. He wants what we want: for the bad guy to say, "I'm sorry. I messed up. I killed people."
But real life doesn't always give you a cinematic catharsis.
Quisling stayed defiant. He spent his time writing a 50-page "defense" that was essentially a rambling manifesto. On October 24, 1945, at 2:40 AM, they took him to Akershus Fortress. It was cold. It was dark. He was blindfolded. He didn't scream or beg. He supposedly said, "I am convicted unfairly and I die innocent," right before the firing squad did their job.
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There is a grim detail often left out of the more sanitized versions of history: after the execution, they didn't just bury him. They cremated him. They didn't want his grave to become a shrine for neo-Nazis. His ashes sat in an urn for years before being quietly moved to a family plot in Fyresdal.
Why the Film Matters Now
Erik Poppe’s film isn't a "fun" watch. It’s dense. It’s a chamber piece. But it’s vital because it explores how ideology can blind a person to the point of sociopathy.
We see a lot of "historical" movies that take massive liberties, but the producers of Quisling: The Final Days leaned into the archival research. They looked at the medical reports. They analyzed the psychological assessments from 1945 that suggested Quisling might have had "paranoic traits," though he was legally sane. This nuance is what makes the movie—and the historical study of his end—so uncomfortable. If he was just "crazy," we could dismiss him. If he was a sane man who chose this path, that's much scarier.
The film also avoids the trap of making him a protagonist. You feel for the priest. You feel for the victims. You feel the weight of the 40,000 Norwegians who were imprisoned or exiled during the war. Quisling is the black hole at the center of the story, sucking the air out of every room he enters.
Actionable Insights for History Buffs
If you're looking to dig deeper into the reality behind the film or the history of the Norwegian occupation, don't just stop at the credits. There are ways to see the "bones" of this history yourself.
Visit the HL-Senteret (The Holocaust Center) in Oslo.
This is actually located in Villa Grande, which was Quisling’s residence during the war. He called it "Gimle." Walking through the rooms where he lived while planning the betrayal of his country is a haunting experience. It turns the abstract history into something tangible.
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Read the actual trial transcripts.
Many are available through the Norwegian National Archives (Arkivverket). Seeing his actual words—the circular logic, the arrogance—is far more revealing than any scripted dialogue. It shows the danger of a "leader" who believes he is the only source of truth.
Explore the resistance narrative.
To balance the darkness of Quisling’s final days, look into the "Oslo Gang" (Oslogjengen) or Max Manus. The contrast between those who risked everything for a free Norway and the man who sold it for a title is the only way to get a full picture of the era.
Fact-check the "Martyr" myth.
Some fringe groups still try to paint Quisling as a "misunderstood diplomat." Look at the numbers. Look at the 1,000+ teachers sent to concentration camps because they refused to teach Nazi curriculum. Look at the state-sanctioned theft of Jewish property. The evidence is overwhelming and undisputed by serious historians.
The end of Vidkun Quisling wasn't just the death of a man; it was the necessary purging of a virus from the Norwegian body politic. Whether you're watching the film for the performances or researching the history for its lessons, the takeaway is the same: the final days were not about glory. They were about a small, delusional man finally meeting the reality he tried so hard to ignore.
The silence of that firing squad was the first real moment of peace Norway had felt in five years.