Worth: $16.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Angela Bundalovic, Jonas Holst Schmidt, Zlatko Buric, Vilmer Trier Brøgger
Intro:
… well crafted and will be particularly appreciated by Euro-arthouse cinema buffs.
Sander’s girlfriend, Ida, is missing. Her gruff, imposing father, Porath, wants to know what happened and whether Sander is hiding anything. Incredibly, Sander agrees to be locked in a semi-empty apartment in Copenhagen where Porath will interrogate him, with his responses recorded on video.
This Danish mystery is also the tale of a strange romance. Both its script and visuals are poetic, as it tells the story of a couple who, over the course of a year, cut themselves off from the world. For them, not even Copenhagen, the city in which they dwell, exists.
Based on Terje Holtet Larsen’s novel Sander, much of the story is told in flashbacks, cutting to and fro from the Copenhagen apartment. Porath (Zlatko Burić) is a pot-bellied giant of a man whose mere presence intimidates – it’s a stellar performance from the Croatian-born Denmark-based actor who has appeared in everything from Nicolas Winding Refn’s Pusher to Ruben Ostlund’s Triangle of Sadness. Porath’s son Viktor (Vilmer Trier Brøgger) adds to the nasty vibes during the interrogation, although he’s a shadow – both physically and verbally – of his father.
Sander (Jonas Holst Schmidt – singer for Danish indie pop band Blaue Blume) is not especially easy to connect with – is he behind Ida’s disappearance? A writer who doesn’t work, doesn’t look for work, and lives rent-free thanks to Ida, it feels as though the character was designed for the viewer to dislike. Ida (Angela Bundalovic) also feels distant.
The sense of mystery is palpable – even ostensibly mundane conversations have you looking for clues. There are also a couple of memorable unexpected scenes.
You may watch this with an emotional detachment to the characters, despite the involving mystery. But the final scenes are affecting. Copenhagen Does Not Exist is well crafted and will be particularly appreciated by Euro-arthouse cinema buffs.
