Interview: Mads Mikkelsen

(Originally appeared in EXBERLINER on Jul. 1 , 2015)

Considering you’ve worked with writer/director Anders Thomas Jensen many times in the past, was it a big relief when he called you and said “Let’s do it again”?

It’s not because of the other things we’d done, but it was a big relief that he finally pulled himself together and wrote a crazy and beautiful script again, set in this magical universe of his. Of course I was hoping it would happen sooner, but better late than never.

What was your reaction when he pitched this story about brotherhood and bestiality to you?

Well, he didn’t pitch it like that. I know whatever he wants to do is always, at least to me, beautiful… poetic even. And that it’s probably going to be about God, Satan, life and death – the meaning of life in general. He does realise that it can come across as very pretentious when you make films like that, which is why he wraps it all in this crazy universe, so he can get away with telling this beautiful story. But whatever craziness there is, I know that there’s a very poetic core to it.

For a movie with such a strong element of slapstick, it’s actually pretty dramatic.

It’s extremely dramatic, but it’s not dogma-style, kitchen-sink realism kind of dramatic. Many big dramas today can be so pretentious, where the actors deliver long monologues about life and death. When Jensen wants to tell these important stories, he prefers to wrap them up in crazy packaging, so we can get away with it. I think that’s become his trademark. I mean you can see some Coen brothers in there, some David Lynch, but he’s very much himself. It’s a very unique style.

For a movie with such a dark subject matter, it’s surprisingly funny as well.

Humour helps you digest things. But it’s important to note that we tried not to make this film funny funny, we tried to take it all very seriously. It takes a lot more skill to be sad in this film than in say, "The Hunt" (2012). It’s the same emotion but in this case, you’re supposed to be sad about some cookie that’s fallen to the floor, instead of this big child molestation drama. We try to make that emotion just as real, and for that reason it becomes totally absurd. The truth is: children do that, people who are lying do that. Emotionally, they go all in. So by trying to achieve something honest, it becomes very funny, because it’s just so ridiculous to watch.

How did you approach something like this as an actor?              

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know a lot of it was going to be funny. But we also knew that the more seriously we took it, the funnier it’d be. As a result we threw away quite a few punch lines. Even though he [Jensen] comes up with fantastic punch lines, we still do without many of them because the characters would otherwise become too aware of being funny. If these characters talk like they do in France or on "How I Met Your Mother", it would take us out of their universe.

How did you perfect your comedic timing?

Timing is very tricky. You can practice it – I think many great comedians do that. I don’t consider myself a comedian, let alone a great one. For me it comes down to the honesty again. The more truthful you are to the character, the more you behave as one. And when you feel you’re on a roll, the timing becomes perfect. But when you think about the timing and consciously try to make everything you do funny, then it won’t work. You have to be a little impulsive, which I think applies to comedy, drama and everything in between.  

You went from playing Dr. Hannibal Lecter, an icon of sophistication, to playing Elias, a rather simple-minded guy in this movie. Which role posed the greater challenge?

With this kind of film it’s a challenge to the actors obviously. Jensen and I have dabbled in similar territory before, and really hit it off first with "Flickering Lights" (2000), then with "The Green Butchers" (2003). Through the creation of radical, annoyingly idiosyncratic characters we did something that’s theater-like and seldom done on film. It’s tricky to perform in this particular type of film, to make your characters believable, because the audience is so used to seeing films done in a certain way, dictated by the rules of established genres. So I would say this role is the bigger challenge, even though there are or course other challenges involved in acting in a foreign language, speaking Italian, Japanese or doing whatever I have to do on that fucking show [laughter].

What is your character Elias about? Did you see him as a fairy tale character?

He’s very real to me. He reminds me a lot of Jensen’s children. He has the most fantastic kids, but you could probably also say they are the kids from hell. Individually they’re super charming, I love them all. But together they’re a fucking nightmare. They fight non-stop, antagonise one another by any means necessary, show no emotional stability whatsoever. Watching them is like watching a movie.

So I very much based this character on reality, I approached him like a child who has not gotten enough attention in his life – with good reasons – because he’s so annoying, nobody likes him. The only thing he wants, which he never says out loud, is for his older brother to like him, and it never happened. So I see it as a really sad story about a man who’s not being loved, although he is not necessarily aware of that.

Are humans allowed to play God?

It’s an interesting question. We just talked about Hannibal, who plays God all the time. I think it’s a moral discussion. We do play God every day. Two men can have kids today, based on their own DNA. We save people from cancer, save whole continents from starvation and we wage wars against each other, which is also a godly act. So we’ve actually been playing God all our lives. But it’s tricky, especially when it comes to genetics. We can do so much good for humanity and the planet with the help of genetics but the opposite can also happen, as with every other major scientific discovery. So it’s really a matter of how we use it.

You shot many scenes in the abandoned Beelitz-Heilstätten complex in Brandenburg. There are a lot of spooky tales about this place. Did you catch any of that atmosphere?

I heard the stories. I wish I were one of those people who see and sense ghosts, but I don’t. You can definitely feel the atmosphere though. When you look at the old houses, some in immaculate condition, some with trees growing through their roofs, there’s just a decadence to the whole place, as there is to Berlin. It’s beautiful to see there’s everything in that area: some things falling apart and some still standing.

What’s the biggest difference you’ve noticed, having worked in so many different cultures and environments?

The biggest shock or difference I’ve experienced happened when I was working in India on a Danish film. The value of life, the way you view your fellow humans, the way they treat each other was all very different. Also, working there with some people who were living in extreme poverty and then going back to a four- or five-star hotel was absurd for all of us. That was definitely a clash of cultures.

Do you still enjoy going back to Denmark to film?

Of course. This is my language, these are my stories. There will always be something familiar for me to go back to. I could say the same thing about Toronto now I guess, where I’ve lived for three years. I’m pretty good at changing my homebase.

Filmfest Hamburg: Turist (Force Majeure)

(Originally appeared in Film International on Nov. 2, 2014)

Swedish comedic drama "Turist (Force Majeure)" is a sneaky, unsparing, surgically accurate stab to a very particular part of the human sensibility, which makes it at once hilarious and deeply unsettling to watch. Written, directed and performed with remarkable intelligence and empathy, it tickles, provokes, cooks up delicious tension throughout, even if all that steam can't seem to find the perfect outlet in the end for an appropriately volcanic burst.

Unfolding like a travel diary, the story follows a bourgeois family of four on a skiing vacation. It's a healthy, loving, reasonably well-to-do bunch enjoying themselves at a posh French locale where work is prohibited and misery a remote notion. But then an accident involving an avalanche happens. Leaving no physical damage behind, the true aftermath of this apparently harmless interlude isn’t revealed until the dinner afterwards, as mother/wife Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) recounts, to the horror of father/husband Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke), the event from her perspective in front of two guests. The night ends in great awkwardness without the couple’s facing up to the crux of the problem. On the one end efforts are still being made to downplay, brush over, cover up; on the other a resignation and possibly pacifist need lead to reluctant compliance. The trauma of the experience is such, however, that it doesn’t allow to be forgotten, and the very fact that a truce of sorts has been made only adds fuel to the frustration, resentment and a host of unnamed toxic feelings bubbling beneath the surface. At a second dinner with two other guests, the dam is finally flooded and we’re left with one of the most spectacularly uncomfortable movie scenes in recent memory.

The genius of the writing is attributable to its absolute humanity and honesty. It looks all the flaws, frailties and embarrassing traits of our race straight in the eyes and mocks them without mercy. Because it’s so deeply grounded in reality, you can identify or sympathize with the protagonists’ bad decisions every step of the way. And because it’s so relentlessly candid, even when you can tell chances for reconciliation are too far gone and catastrophe is now inevitable, you can’t help but giggle along. What’s also clever about the script is its use of one relatively unassuming incident as catalyst to set off a whole chain of unforeseeable reactions. Like an Ian McEwan novel, it capitalizes on the power of extraordinary circumstances to shake us out of the protective shell of morals or self-discipline, and follows with sharp insight how fundamentally decent people can end up hurting one another so much when acting on largely blameless instincts. As the movie progresses, you can literally feel the invisible footing on which a relationship and family stands loosen like cracks spreading through ice- a tingling, anticipatory, gloriously ominous feeling.

Also contributing to the simultaneous appeal of the film as comedy and drama are the sharp direction and fine acting. Helmer Ruben Östlund, who’s responsible for the screenplay as well, shows an innate understanding of what makes us tick, what gives a moment weight, what changes the temperature in a room. Reminiscent of the earlier work of Ang Lee, his depiction of the family dynamic, complete with its secret language, subtle rules, unspoken understandings, is authentically unagitated but charged with an ever-shifting electric current. Applied to a social setting, the forces at play are even stronger with the inclusion of outsiders. And here, as evidenced by the aforementioned two dinner scenes, Östlund tracks the fissures in the fabric of acceptable behavior with the precision of a bomb disposal expert, choosing and timing the shots and edits so meticulously that no trace of embarrassment, anger, panic, humiliation quietly ripping the peace apart goes undetected. Of course, no fireworks of emotions are possible without able actors to deliver the raw material. In this case, the two leads are both outstanding. Kongsli plays the dramatic fuse of the film. None of the aftershocks would work if people don’t buy into her moral outrage triggered by the accident. And she pulls that off with flying colors. In another beautifully/ painfully observant scene where her character gets to watch the rest of her family go about their skiing routines without her from a rather compromised position, she communicates succinctly the utter despair of someone at war with her own principles. As the shamed breadwinner fighting to preserve his dignity, Kuhnke gets the figure of the slightly emasculated modern male just right. Not necessarily the leader of the pack anymore but still hanging on to the vanity of someone in charge, often feeling powerless, underappreciated, and especially feeling wronged when called a coward, it’s a fearlessly naked performance that deserves all the laughs it nets and echoes it finds. In supporting roles, Kristofer Hivju and Fanni Metelius are also delightful as the well-meaning couple inadvertently dragged into a domestic storm. In many ways representing the viewer, their expressions of stunned speechlessness would no doubt mirror those of many sitting in the audience, which is so much fun.

The movie looks fantastic. A minimalist Scandinavian aesthetic underlies the bold, linear framing and composition of the picture, captured by some pristine lensing. Panoramic view of the Alpine vista, both in the splendor of the day and the menace of the night, grace the screen at regular intervals. The sound work on the film, from the whooshing of the slides cutting through snow to the suffocating sonic void inside the mountain lifts, is also remarkable. Particularly noteworthy is how the director uses the visual and aural design to reflect and reinforce the corresponding mindset of the characters within. Treacherous weather accompanied by orchestral music and the occasional firing of snow cannons, crashing avalanche exposing the dangerous hollows beneath the snowcapped perfection all play into the apt synergy of technical and narrative storytelling.

It’s a shame then that, with so much going for it, the movie doesn’t exactly end with a bang. A scene low on visibility and high on allegorical value that leads in the ending is most likely meant to appear staged and equivocal, but however one looks at it, it lacks in its outcome the deep pull or vicious bite of what’s come before. As for the actual finale, which involves another unexpected occurrence on the group’s way home, it’s not as well-conceived as the central conflict to evoke similarly relatable response in its fallout, so that even though the film closes with a somehow newfound cool attitude, you kind of wish it would be something less harmonious but incisive, messier but profound.

Venice Film Festival: En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron (A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence) / Bypass

True to form, Swedish director Roy Andersson's "En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron (A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence)" is a wryly caricatured look at life from the sidelines, with opaque philosophical, existential musings masked behind painstakingly staged, cartoonishly orchestrated scenes. His trademark taxidermic aesthetics are present from the first frame on: comical, heavily made-up figures look frozen in time or pinned under glass in stiff poses amid surreal, minutely manicured surroundings. The script is just as eccentric, creating the unlikeliest characters who behave in the most peculiar way, including a dance instructor who keeps caressing her pupil, two morbid men who work "in entertainment" and a musical number, during which guests in a bar line up to kiss the female owner for free drinks. Except for a bit depicting the execution of slaves that seems insensitive and in its explication too on-the-nose, it's all quite amusing, innocuously mean both on a visual and cerebral level. But the appeal of the intentional, heightened artificiality does get old after a while, and the episodic nature of the film, underscored by the not always seamless scenic transitions, prevents an organic wholeness, a coherent meaning from ever emerging, so there's a sense of limitation that's even more apparent than in, say, the grander, more ambitious "Du levande (You, the Living)". That said, at its best, this film pokes fun at the absurdity and transience of it all with a delicious deadpan humor that's seldom seen.      

British writer/director Duane Hopkins' visually arresting but narratively wanting "Bypass" is a tender character study that's too light on plot to land a greater impact. The young protagonist has a brother just out of jail, a drop-out sister under his custody, a debt he can't afford to pay back and a disease that makes him throw up and convulse. After accompanying him through his daily routines with these many plights, you get it's a story about people who have nothing and are about to lose more. As dire as that sounds, the film's a gem to watch. The cinematography is crisp in texture and brisk in motion, constantly finding interesting aspects of faces, gestures and a post-industrialized cityscape that are beautiful to ponder. In a couple of excellently shot chase scenes, the camera, dashing through alleyways and up elevations with clarity and urgency, further impresses. Thanks to a soft glow from the exquisite, sometimes bold lighting choices, the modestly budgeted movie also often looks like a million dollars. Lead actor George MacKay doesn't necessarily show range in a role limited by his own circumstances, but there's an openness to his face that's very inviting. Overall there's too little development in the script department for the film to have scale but the director definitely shows promise, not least in his strong sense of rhythm, evidenced by the smooth assembly of the desperately fast and the heartbreakingly slow.

Når dyrene drømmer (When Animals Dream)

Danish horror/drama "Når dyrene drømmer (When Animals Dream)" is a derivative, if nonetheless delicious new entry into the subgenre of teenage angst-based supernatural mutation.

Monster transformation isn't exactly a subtle or original metaphor for the hormonal unrest befalling insecure young adults and bully-induced aggressive explosion traces its cinematic roots as far back as "Carrie". But director Jonas Alexander Arnby, making his feature film debut here, shows sharp instincts for pacing and composition, so that even when following a familiar path, he never loses your attention. Much like its Scandinavian sibling "Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right One In)", this movie whisks along without major hiccups and is aesthetically speaking an instant stunner. Playing with the contrast between warm, sun-drenched landscape and fluorescently-lit, pathologically white indoor surfaces, it boasts one gorgeously suggestive frame after another. Also contributing to the overall creepiness of the picture are the angular bone structure and singularly bland features of lead actress Sonia Suhl, who makes several key scenes of persecution come alive as her surreal looks complete the almost cartoonish acts of cruelty and her fragility makes us actually feel the terror.

Technical aspects are all pro, with the cinematography and make-up departments obviously at the forefront. The original music provided by Mikkel Hess should also be credited though, especially its electronically enhanced portion, which adds an unsettling, nearly cheerful sense of impending doom to the mix.

Short takes

"Hundraåringen som klev ut genom fönstret och försvann (The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared)", a Swedish comedy about just what its title promises, is, despite its far-fetched, century-spanning storyline involving dictators, espionage and atomic bombs, a rather modest affair. Not eye-catching in terms of acting, visual or sonic design, the movie by director Felix Herngren relies mostly on the unlikely tale to intrigue and entertain. While here and there that goal is achieved with an extra helping of off-beat Scandinavian quirk- the escape from the Siberian labor camp and the whole Cold War sequence come to mind- its humor is never sophisticated nor out-right hilarious, but more of the harmless "ha-ha" variety. Loopy, irreverent and in the end, all those casual deaths and body disposals notwithstanding, quite life-affirming, it's a pleasant ride with plenty of eccentric characters but, without a confident hand to hold it all together, it's one that can't be called memorable.

"Alles inklusive (All Inclusive)", a cross-generational German dramedy about an eclectic bunch of lonely souls out searching for happiness but landing where they started, is generally agreeable but not exceptional in any way. Writer/director Doris Dörrie is known for her empathetic take on the little joys and heartaches of the everyday, and indeed there are places in this film where you can sense the hint of prickly wit or crushing sadness projected on the flamboyant, furiously colorful vista of a Spanish beach resort. It's to her credit that she always seems to find unremarkable but definitive gestures or words that can make a character come to life. Unfortunately, this movie can't quite connect those bits of revelation into an expressive, organic whole, so in the end one is left with the empty feeling you have when an itch is not properly scratched. The cast is fine, but when a dog steals the show from such iconic/reliable players as Hannelore Elsner or Nadja Uhl, you know something's wrong.

"Kill Your Darlings" is a tale of romance and murder surrounding famed poet Allen Ginsberg set in 1940's New York. The movie looks fetching and boasts strong acting from an able supporting cast. First-time feature film director John Krokidas puts an edgy, modern spin on some of the scenes using flashy speed modulations, nifty cuts and warped sound that prove to be impressively controlled. So it's too bad that outside the fantasy sequences or montages, the narrative often feels drab, a fact probably most attributable to a script that's muddled and too inarticulate for a story about such legendary writers. It doesn't help that Daniel Radcliffe, while serviceable as Ginsberg, is no match for his on-screen crush as he is instantly out-acted by co-lead Dane DeHaan, whose unreadable blue eyes threaten to blink away that look of helpless fragility with an icy glare at any second. Otherwise Nico Muhly's soundtrack is a gem. Where the writing fails, the surprisingly varied and bold musicality of the film saves it from ever being a bore.

"שש פעמים (Six Acts)" is a sexually charged Israeli teenage drama, although drama may be too strong a word, since the movie, built on a loose, incident-based narrative with a lascivious focus on the young, toned bodies of its actors, often feels like a late-night special on date rape or an extended Abercrombie & Fitch ad spot. What director Johnathan Gurfinkel succeeds in doing is conveying a restless vibe among a group of adolescents high on hormones and low on reason or self-esteem. The giddiness of constant lust and easy lay, the thrill of dominating, owning someone else, the shame of rejection are all photographically captured on a shaky camera with suggestive lighting. But the story, besides making sure you know that everyone and their father and kid brother want to get into the pants of the female protagonist, is characterized by an utter flatness and lack of tension. There's no arc, momentum, twist, substance, which makes it a risqué little atmosphere piece shockingly devoid of meaning.

Nymphomaniac: Volume II

"Nymphomaniac: Volume II" is immeasurably superior to its predecessor as it's finally not about juvenile, relatively harmless debaucheries but the earth-shattering, all-destructive force of sexuality. Scenes of grotesque, vile, upsetting sexual practices replace those of theorizing and over-articulation to truly take you inside the mind of someone who's losing control. That sense of dangerous perversion, pathological need that's sorely missing in the first part soars in this one. Also in terms of narrative and style Volume II proves to be substantially richer. Literally within minutes after it opens, we're treated to strangely stunning images the likes of which not seen in Volume I as well as the revelation of a major character detail that immediately raises the stakes and changes the dynamics between the narrator and her listener/inquisitor. Another fundamental reason why the follow-up is so much more watchable is that Charlotte Gainsbourg is infinitely stronger than the fine but ultimately bland Stacy Martin, who plays her younger self. Not until you see Gainsbourg in action do you realize what a crime it has been to confine her to the role of all but a voice in the first half. A naturally physical performer, she allows unfiltered sentiments of pleasure, pain, shame, desperation to parade across her face and body, which twitch, squirm, relax and tighten with such calculated intensity that every blow counts. Add to that the extreme mix of confidence and self-hatred disguised under an analytical poise and she really puts the manic in nymphomaniac. You can't take your eyes off her.

In the third act the plot goes off course and loses its focus on sex a little, so when it comes full circle in the darkened alley, the pay-off isn't quite as fulfilling as one would hope. Still, the actual ending of the movie is one of THOSE that you just won't forget. All in all, this intricately woven film is emotionally and ideologically hardcore, bloodily kinky, unapologetically provocative and offensive. It might not rank among his very best works, but it's a hell of a Lars von Trier movie.

p.s. "Nymphomaniac: Volume I" improves somewhat upon second viewing. The complexity of the script reveals itself more readily, the debate structure becomes more organic once you know what to expect. The Uma Thurman scene remains the highlight and the chapter "Delirium" a drag. For a film thus entitled it also still feels neither sexy nor crazy and as such inherently underwhelming.

Berlinale: Blind / The Two Faces of January

Norwegian thriller "Blind" has a nifty idea that's often utilized to titillating, confounding, shocking effect through intelligent, playful direction and razor-sharp editing. Writer/director Eskil Vogt toys ruthlessly with perception, imagination, sensation, illusion by way of narrating the story through a visually impaired woman with a suspicious mind and some wild fantasies. Very soon the viewer would learn to mistrust what they see as what's portrayed on screen proves to be highly unreliable and prone to shape-shift or auto-correct even mid-action. It gets ever more slippery when possibly made-up characters multiply and step ever further across the perceived boundary of fiction. In some ways this film reminds me of Christopher Nolan's masterpiece "Memento" as they are both essentially about storytelling and the flawed, emotionally manipulated way we have of processing reality. But in this case the result is not quite as compelling due to a noticeable lack of discipline and consistency of vision. One has the feeling the director is having too much fun playing God and gets carried away without realizing it. That said, the script remains a formidable achievement and all technical aspects of the film are pro.

Hossein Amini's "The Two Faces of January" is a thriller set in 1960's Greece involving greed, jealousy, deaths, deceit and questionable identities, all starting with a fateful clash between the affluent and the poor, typical Patricia Highsmith territory that is. This new adaptation, reminiscent of "The Talented Mr. Ripley" in some of its themes, is also very pretty to look at. The Greek ruins and landscape provide plenty of postcard-ready backdrop, the period costume with classic suits and retro sunglasses are darling creations, above all, the cinematography, dousing every frame in tones of tan and amber, gives the movie a faded newspapers look that's timelessly chic. In an airport scene later in the film, the camerawork also proves its mighty alertness, slithering right behind a fleeing Oscar Isaac and creating some über-heightened tension. Performance-wise, Viggo Mortensen and Kirsten Dunst are both strong and especially persuasive together as the posh couple. Ultimately the movie is hampered by its own narrow scope and low stakes, though, not being able to blossom into something more intricate and grand than a rather blameless, unmalicious game between three not very lucky/bright people. The plain ending doesn't help either.

Berlinale: En du elsker (Someone You Love) / Praia do futuro

Danish family drama "En du elsker (Someone You Love)" is built on a fairly formulaic set-up and ends with an extra helping of kitsch, but the experience of watching it turns out to be a surprisingly painless one and actually quite moving here and there. Principal reason for that is the quality of the performances, which are individually fantastic and collectively winning. Playing an aged musician caught up by his own past when confronted with a grandson, Mikael Persbrandt is effortlessly riveting. Just taking a look at his face, open, weary like an antique map with entire histories etched on it, and you'd be ready to buy his character's professional cynicism, trained callousness and chronic commitment-phobia right off the bat. His every move and pause carry with them an invisible weight that instantly captivates.The same can be said of both supporting players, Trine Dyrholm and Sofus Rønnov. The former brings her usual tranquility and down-to-earth appeal to the part of the veteran music producer while the latter shows a remarkable level of concentration and composure in many stare-downs with his estranged granddad. Thanks to the collaboration of these gifted, fearless performers, as well as the mostly unfussy, perceptive direction from helmer Pernille Fischer Christensen, there are next to no squirm-worthy moments in a film that could have gone Schweiger in so many ways.

Brazilian-German competition entry "Praia do futuro", about the romance between a Brazilian lifeguard and a German motorcycle racer, starts off slowly and never quite picks up speed. Most of the movie is dedicated to scenes of casual acts that are not very expressive of an inner drive or inarticulate conversations that don't really go anywhere. In fact, the two unhappy lovers spend much of their screen time establishing that they have nothing to do in the hometown of the other. That nothingness certainly comes across. In the third act, when the younger brother with abandonment issues shows up, there are finally signs of dramatic potential but the promise of sparks soon tapers off as more wrong questions are asked and non-answers given. Writer/director Karim Aïnouz has serious problems communicating what he's trying to say, both visually and especially verbally. In the end, that dull opacity and sluggish passivity leave one cold. The cinematography, while not exactly outstanding, is easily the most striking feature of the film. That final shot, following two motorbikes as they glide and swerve through a mystic fog with oiled, noiseless agility, is gorgeous and poignant like few others from all the 100 preceding minutes.

Berlinale: Nymphomaniac: Volume I (director's cut)

The 145-min director's cut of "Nymphomaniac: Volume I" from everybody's favorite Danish madman Lars von Trier is, considering its subject matter, a surprisingly understated affair. Gone are the lavishly stylized visuals and in-your-face ideological taunts or emotional blows of "Antichrist", "Melancholia" & co. Instead, it's mostly a lucid conversation between two strangers accompanied by neutrally reenacted scenarios from the female narrator's past- all done in a conspicuously unassuming manner with scarcely any aesthetic fanfare. Even more disappointing for people expecting fireworks is the fact that story-wise, the film also misses a lot of that dangerous edge/ single-minded conviction that's been a signature of von Trier's writing. To be sure, there's just as much material in this script as in anything he's ever composed, stacking up references- be it scientific, literary or musical, philosophical discourses, religious allegories in the dense dialogue, and they do contain thought-provoking notes or at least sly observations of an acute thinker. But one can't help having the impression that here he's overcompensating a little, stuffing too much research into a project that's an easy target from the day it was announced. Because seen as a whole, all those discussions about trees, fishing, delirium seem only to function as padding and lessen the impact of the central theme; something organic, conducive that would string it all together and drive home the point is not there. Also curious is how in a movie about a self-claimed nymphomaniac, the sex comes off so benign. Which is not to say there aren't plenty of explicit sex scenes- there certainly are, genitals, orifices and body fluids are all amply featured. But the way those scenes are shot and used in the film is mechanical and clinical more than anything, not really convincing in their destructive power. Of all people, von Trier knows the potential of violence and aggression in sex, so it's underwhelming to see him approach the subject with all his big guns left unfired.

This is still very much a fine movie. In my favorite scene, where Uma Thurman appears as Mrs. H, the comic absurdity and devastation left behind by sexual abandon plays out beautifully and you can just sense the unmistakable imprint of a master filmmaker. It's just a pity that those hefty punches feel diluted in a sea of peripheral concerns. Otherwise there are no apparent flaws in the cast or technical department, but overall I'd say there's nothing to write home about either.

Filmfest München: Kapringen (A Hijacking)

Danish director Tobias Lindholm's "Kapringen (A Hijacking)" is a problematic addition to the genre of hostage drama. While a faster-paced, action-packed Hollywood revampment complete with drumbeats, cliffhangers and third-act surprises might be a bit tacky, I'm just not convinced the semi-documentary, almost theatrics-free style of this movie is the best way to go about it either. Written and directed in a highly sensible, matter-of-fact fashion with a corresponding look of modest austerity, the movie features negotiators who never seem really interested in compromising or saving the hostages and pirates who seem not too bothered by that. The deadlock drags on and the low emotional stakes stay down. When the point comes where you secretly wish for a Michael Bay intervention, you know the movie is in trouble.

Berlinale: Iron Sky

Just got back from the world premiere of Finnish director Timo Vuorensola's "Iron Sky", a sci-fi comedy about Nazis hiding on the dark side of the moon waging an interplanetary war on Earth. There are a lot of deceptively simple yet brilliant ideas in the script, not all of which could be effectively executed due to the apparent budget constraints, but the numerous LOL moments still got the crowd go wild. The director shows good command of rhythm and builds despite the rough editing a clear structure for this madhouse of a story. Quite a fun and worthy ride.