A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with Danish filmmaker Adam Neutzsky-Wulff, writer and
director of The Stranger Within. He
had a great deal to say about the Hollywood
films which influenced him, in addition to his Scandinavian roots as a
filmmaker. This got me thinking about the Danish films to which I find myself
personally attached, and a fitting opportunity for examining the history of
this specific Scandinavian national cinema.
Prior to the advent of sound, country
of origin was all but insignificant to a film’s international success. The
introduction of dialogue into film, however, had the significance of God’s
intervention on the Tower
of Babel , forever
altering the universality of the medium. Some countries spend all resources
attempting to duplicate Hollywood success,
whereas the Danish film industry has instead spent decades defining their own
national cinema in a way that is self sufficient. For this reason, Danish
filmmakers often have less incentive to work within the confines of the Hollywood system.
The first film exhibition in Denmark took place in June 1896 at the Town Hall Square in
Copenhagen . Not
long after, it was photographer Peter Elfelt who made the first Danish film.
Elfelt produced around 200 documentary films on life in Demark between 1896 and
1912, establishing realism in Danish cinema from the beginning.
In 1906 a cinema owner named Ole Olsen
founded the first Danish production company, Nordisk Films Kompagni. By 1910
there were ten Danish companies established, including Arhus Fotorama company,
which produced Den hvide Slavehandel
(1910, The White Slave Trade), the
first multi-reel Danish film. By 1911, Nordisk Film was first of the major
European companies to devote itself entirely to making full-length feature
films, which were sold in several hundred copies abroad.
By 1913 Denmark began losing its foothold
when other foreign film companies also began to make full-length feature films,
but the market was hurt even further by war. The devastation caused by World
War I in Europe provided the opportunity for the United States to become the leading
film nation in the world, causing Danish exports to dwindle further. Surprisingly, although World War II brought
German occupation, this actually provided fairly favorable environment for Denmark to
begin experimenting with darker films, and from 1940-45 Danish narratives
matured a great deal.
In the 1930s Theodor Christensen
proposed the idea of founding a film school in Denmark . Christensen was the first
teacher employed when the Danish
Film School
was founded in 1966. It was established
upon the realization that “film was not just a business or an entertainment
medium, but an art form that could have cultural and social significance and be
worthy of study.” The school soon became
an important driving force and an alarmingly large percentage of filmmakers,
producers, and other key figures attended, including Lars von Trier and Dogme
mates Thomas Vinterberg and Kristian Levring, as well as second-wave Dogme
directors, Lone Scherfig, Ake Sandgren, Ole Madsen, Susanne Bier and Dogme
Minister, Jesper Jargil.
The next big step in Danish cinema
came with the government’s decision to step in and become involved. On May 5 of
1964 the “film law” was passed to “encourage the production of films that had
artistic or literary merit,” providing new funds through a ticket tax. Unfortunately the ticket tax proceeds weren’t
always spent to make art films and it wasn’t until 1972 that a new Film Law was
passed and the Danish Film Institute was established to allocate funds for
production directly from State coffers. The money only need be returned if the
film saw a profit, but due to the fact that artistic and creative cinema was
encouraged in the consultant system, few films brought a return. In 1989 the
Film Law was amended inserting a 50/50 agreement which was “geared more towards
films that had a fair possibility of attracting a sizable public,” and may have
been due to the success of the two Oscar-winning Danish films Babette’s Feast (1987) and Pelle the Conquerer (1987).
As New Danish Cinema was just taking
off “in Ole Christian Madsen’s pre-Dogma films and Ole Bornedal's thriller Natteragten (The Night Watch, 1995) which in many ways started this trend in New
Danish Cinema, von Trier initiated his plan for Dogme 95. This movement
captured much of the spirit of simplistic filmmaking which had taken a hold on
New Danish Cinema, including a realism marked by an improvised narrative based
on character-psychology.
In March of 1995, Lars von Trier
issued a press release followed by an impassioned publicity stunt at a
symposium held in Paris
to mark the Centennial of cinema. While on a discussion panel, von Trier stated
that film in the last ten years had been “rubbish”. He also claimed to have the
answer and tossed a stack of red flyers out over the edge of the stage into the
audience. They contained the manifesto and the Vow of Chastity for Dogme 95,
which he then proceeded to read aloud.
This was the beginning of Dogme, which carried many of the same ideals
already in practice in New Danish Cinema, but von Trier was able to market it
in a way which seemed to credit recent Danish success with the movement he had
not yet begun.
Often in interviews von Trier and
Aalbaek Jensen have claimed that Dogme 95 was written off, scorned and attacked
from the get-go in Denmark ,
but this was the product of their desire to portray themselves as rebels who
achieved success in spite of everything. In truth, von Trier has always been
given a fair amount of special treatment. Attendance to the Danish Film School alone helped von Trier because of the
graduates who go on to work as consultants for the Danish Film Institute, the
primary source of funding for films in Denmark .
There are discrepancies in the Dogme
Manifesto and the Vow of Chastity, including a contradiction in the claims of
freedom brought with the manifesto even though the focus on rules seems more
about restrictions. Filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn didn’t bother to write rules
down, and he never even attended the school which is often seen as the only
route to a career in film in Denmark .
Refn’s Pusher trilogy made him an international success, the first of which was
made during the initial wave of Dogme films.
Refn isn’t the only director in Denmark who has
taken his own route. Director Ole Bornedal, who’s Night Watch (1994) virtually launched the New Danish Cinema
movement, also never attend the Danish
Film School .
Bornedal also rarely managed to get support for his films through the
consultant system either, instead having to take what he could from the 50/50
arrangement. “I’ll take lecherousness
over chastity,” Bornedal stated of Dogme 95 after battling von Trier’s the
Kingdom for movie of the year, “I would rather fuck than live in celibacy….
I’ll take Dogme seriously the day I sit in a cinema and get floored by a great
film—until then I consider it to be a concept, and one can always spend time on
concepts if one can’t manage anything else.”
These battles in the Danish film
world have helped define the national cinema, which has remained dominated by
social realism and documentary filmmaking. There are many films I have yet to
see, because of the limited exportation and availability. Among those I have
seen, these five stand apart as the films I could watch repeatedly and find
their value appreciating with each viewing. I will keep my descriptions to a
minimum, having allowed myself to get carried away in the history of this
particular national cinema, instead focusing on my personal attraction to each
piece.
5. Klown (2010)
This film is
like a Scandinavian Bad Santa with
canoes; total inappropriate behavior made even more hilarious when a
pre-pubescent boy becomes an accomplice to the debauchery. Danish cinema tends
to be known for its drama, but you wouldn’t know it by this apt venture into
awkward humor. “Klown” is a television program which the film is based on,
though no previous knowledge of these characters or the series is necessary to
enjoy this cringe-worthy comedy classic. It pushes the boundaries of good taste
in ways that Hollywood cinema would never be
so bold, but also has a strong reliance on the awkward humor of many disastrous
misunderstandings and mishaps, primarily of a sexual nature.
4. Love is All You Need (2012)
Written by
Anders Thomas Jensen (Adam’s Apples)
and directed by Susanne Bier (Brothers,
In a Better World), Love is All You Need is a perfect Danish
romantic comedy. Although the structure may follow that of a Hollywood
romance, it is paired with the signature Danish realism matched with melodrama
in such a way that allows an uncertainty in the end result which is normally
missing in this genre. Bier is also able to pull remarkably nuanced
performances from leads Pierce Brosnan and Trine Dyrholm, making it impossible
not to fall in love with them as they fall for each other.
3. Flame and Citron (2008)
Directed by Ole
Christian Madsen (writer of The
Celebration), Flame and Citron is a World War II biopic thriller which
almost plays like a gangster film at points. With a budget over $10 million,
this is one of the biggest blockbusters made in Denmark . The plot follows famous
resistance fighters with the nicknames The Flame and Citron (Thure Lindhardt
and Mads Mikkelsen) as they sabotage and assassinate the occupying Nazi forces.
The scale of this film is remarkably impressive, but that never diminishes the
realism and accuracy to details.
2. Submarino (2010)
Directed by
Thomas Vinterberg (The Celebration),
this dark human melodrama is about two brothers on a downward spiral in their
middle age. All of their problems seem to come from an undisclosed incident
from their childhood, though we can see from flashbacks that none of their
youth was filled with anything close to carefree existence. It is no surprise
that each brother struggles with substance abuse and depression. Nick (Jakob
Cedergren) is a convict recently released from prison, and his brother (Peter
Plaugborg) is struggling to raise his young son alone while maintaining a drug
addiction. This premise sounds dreadfully bleak, but it is handled in such a
way that is realistic while also hopeful. It is a beautiful film, one which
breaks my heart every time I watch it.
1. The Pusher Trilogy (1996-2005)
Each of the Pusher films feature actors
who were, or in some cases still are, working gangsters in Copenhagen .
Professional car thieves were brought in for advice during the filming
of the large car theft in Pusher II,
and the prostitutes used in many of the somewhat graphic sexual scenes were
working prostitutes or actresses from pornographic films. As well as using
criminals as actors, the locations used are nearly all what they appear to be
in the films. The beginning of Pusher II
opens with a sequence in prison, and Refn remarks that while they were shooting
a fight scene in the prison yard “because the film crew was so small, a lot of
the inmates couldn’t see the crew. They thought it was a real fight, so they
were shouting out the window, ‘Kill him! Kill him!’” Scenes taking place in brothels
were shot in actual brothels which were as filthy as it was portrayed on film.
Even the dialogue is kept as realistic as possible within the films, filled
with lingo used by real drug dealers on the street.
Despite the low budget and doubts of
Refn’s family and friends, Pusher was
a great success and would eventually become a trilogy of unique gangster films.
The first film is about the downfall of Frank (Kim Bodnia), a low level drug
dealer in Copenhagen .
Just as Frank is putting together a big deal, he is busted, fortunately able to
escape the charges when he dumps the drugs in the river. This leads Milo (Zlatko Buric), the high level gangster whose drugs
were lost, to come asking Frank for the money. The remainder of the film is a
desperate scramble as Frank tries everything to save himself. Pusher was such a success that it
inspired both a British and a Bollywood remake.
Pusher II: With Blood on My Hands, remains on the streets of Copenhagen
with many of the same gangsters from the original, including the menacing Milo . This time the gangster of focus is Tonny (Mads
Mikkelsen), “last seen beaten to a pulp by his friend Frank after snitching him
to the police” in Pusher. Tonny is also the son of a powerful gangster, only
known as ‘Duke’(Leif Sylvester). Tonny is a continual disappointment to his
father so when he becomes involved in a drug deal that ends badly, there is
more than money at stake. Pusher II
may have the most shocking ending when the film “culminates in a concisely
handled act of Oedipal revenge followed by an ambivalent prospect of
redemption.”[1] The
final image is of Tonny’s bald and scarred head aside his baby son’s bald head
sitting on a bus as the passing light flickers on the tattoo on Tonny’s head
which says ‘Respect’, which is ironic for every other scene in the film when
Tonny can’t seem to get respect from anyone. This is the most hopeful image in
the entire trilogy but Refn has stated in interviews “Of course we know that
after half an hour he’s going to get arrested, because he probably tries to
hold up a gas station with the baby.
Still we can’t help feeling that Tonny is starting to grow up, even if
it’s too late.”[2]
The third film in the trilogy, Pusher III: I’m the Angel of Death, has Milo as the gangster of focus. Although he is a feared
character in the first two films, we join him in his seemingly calmer later
years. The entire film takes place in one day as Milo attempts to quit his drug
habit, prepare a birthday party for his daughter, and fix a drug deal which has
turned bad as they always seem to in these films. Milo
ends up in debt to a brutal new Albanian gang. This final film in the trilogy
shows us an aging gangster, who despite all of his work throughout the day must
return to a shabby suburban home. “Milo ’s life
and its questionable rewards are evoked in a closing shot of leaves blowing
around his empty swimming pool.”[3]
These somber endings are a key element of the trilogy, just as the drug deal
is. We are not even allowed the satisfaction of seeing their demise, but
instead are left with a far starker and more realistic image of a criminal near
his end.
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