Director Thomas Vinterberg mingling with his cast
THE COMMUNE (Kollektivet) B
Denmark Sweden Netherlands
(111 mi) 2015 ‘Scope
d: Thomas Vinterberg Official
site
My whole life has been
a very communal experience; growing up in a house full of happy hippies, having
dinner parties three days a week, and going to Christiania, I was constantly
surrounded by people celebrating community.
If you look at the films I’ve done, they all share that theme.
—Thomas Vinterberg
A Scandinavian movie about living on a commune back in the
70’s? Lukas Moodysson’s Together
(Tillsammans) (2000) comes to mind, where stylistically that was more of a
social realist exposé, though it was no panacea either, despite what many might
suggest, as that became more of a satiric commentary on the self-centered
nature of the adults who all but ignore their children, too disposed to
self-absorbed thinking, with barely a thought towards the spirit of a collective. The Germans also took a stab at it with
Dominik Graf’s Don't
Follow Me Around (Dreileben 2 – Komm mir nicht nach) (2012), the weakest
section of the Dreileben Trilogy, a chatty, dialogue-driven film that fell flat
in its attempted critique of the bourgeoisie.
Matt Ross’s portrait of the last remnants of the 60’s counterculture, Captain
Fantastic (2016), won the Best Directing prize of Un Certain Regard at
Cannes 2016, and while initially daring, even that sold out big time by the
end. Actually the film that best
succeeds isn’t even about a commune, Fassbinder’s THE THIRD GENERATION (1979),
which instead portrays the comical ineptitude of the radical left, in
particular an underground movement that is like the gang that couldn’t shoot
straight, people who name-drop talk of revolution, including the right books,
quoting the right phrases, going to all the important meetings and
demonstrations, where the middle class actually turns radical action into a
convenient lifestyle choice. What was once spirited street defiance,
confronting the government and the police through mass disobedience, has turned
into a comfortable bourgeois lifestyle without any real ideology except
self-centered indulgence. One senses
that the farther away from the actual times themselves leads to a more
inaccurate depiction, though Vinterberg, one of the co-founders of the Dogme 95
Manifesto, and director of the 1998 film THE CELEBRATION (Festen), actually
grew up in a commune, described as a Danish hippie community, living there for
more than a decade until the age of 19, staying even after his parents divorced
and left the commune, making this more of an autobiographical recollection of
his youth. His recent films, The
Hunt (Jagten) (2012) and Far
From the Madding Crowd (2015), have both been excellent, though nothing
like the ferocious impact of his first.
Co-written with Tobias Lindholm (their third collaboration), a director
in his own right, whose recent film A War
(Krigen) (2015) was among the five finalists in the Best Foreign Film
category at the Oscars, while his earlier film, A
Hijacking (Kapringen) (2012), might have actually been better. Together they take another walk down memory
lane with open depictions of nudity and sex, yet with most of the subjects
approaching forty, tied to successful careers, what they’re really experiencing
is a midlife crisis with reverberations of the 60’s, where they’re trying to
emulate the memories of their youth, with mental associations of free love,
plenty of pot, not to mention everyone had shaggy hair and wore bell-bottom
pants. Music was the essential
ingredient back in those days, as it was the politics of the
counterculture. But all that is past, as
what we have depicted is a utopian idea that is just that, an idea, like
building bomb shelters in the 50’s, one that outlives its usefulness.
Originally written as a play and performed in German
theater, the story follows a group of surprisingly stable adults who get the
cockamamie idea in the mid 70’s in Copenhagen to live together and share
expenses, opening themselves up to a new world of Nordic possibilities, where
responsibly looking after one another broadens the idea of what constitutes a
family unit. What gets the ball rolling
is a funeral, where an established couple, Anna and Erik (Trine Dyrholm and
Ulrich Thomsen), are seen browsing the empty home of Erik’s deceased father,
with intentions of immediately putting it on the market, as it could
conceivably fetch a million Danish kroners (equal to about $160,000 U.S.
dollars). Anna, however, has other
ideas, thinking all they need is a few friends to pitch in with the costs and
the home would be an ideal place to live, situated so close to the harbor. Anna has been the face of television news for
nearly two decades, while Erik is a professor of architectural design. Together they have an introspective 14-year
old daughter Freja (Martha Sofie Wallstrøm Hansen), and as they explore the
idea of residing in the same large-scaled estate where Erik grew up, there are
so many more rooms than what would suit their small family. Languishing on the side of the bed, Anna
admits, “I’m bored, Erik. I need
change,” which all but seals the deal, as even Freja is intrigued by the
idea. The introduction of the roommates
is hilarious, with crisp dialogue sounding like something from early Woody
Allen movies, where the comical connections are obvious, as the group hits it
off straightaway. Enter Ole (Lars
Ranthe), a beer-drinking leftist who mutters, “You grew up here? No wonder you’re so aloof.” Together they add a free-spirited couple with
a young 7-year old boy Vilads (Sebastian Grønnegaard Milbrat)) with a heart
condition, who’s fond of saying “I’ll be dead by nine,” along with Mona (Julie
Agnete Vang), who becomes infamous for an endless stream of one-night stands,
and a Middle Eastern guy who admittedly has no money, Allon (Fares Fares), who
barely speaks the language, but apparently likes the company of others. Together this eclectic group makes little
sense, but everything is expressed as a joyous liberation, an army that can
stop traffic in the streets or go skinny-dipping off the pier. A neverending flow of beer and wine seems to
make everything harmonious, creating a party atmosphere that never ends. Actually, those are the recollections of
Vinterberg, whose childhood was filled with parties and joyous occasions,
surrounded by plenty of happy people.
Soon, however, Erik grows grumpy, especially when he can’t get a word in
edgewise, and he’s no longer the center of attention. He seems to take it out on his students,
where as an aloof and authoritarian professor, his arrogance knows no bounds—until
he meets his match in a 24-year old third-year student who is literally half
his age, Emma (Helene Reingaard Neumann, who happens to be the director’s wife,
writing the part specifically for her).
Immediately, everybody starts sleeping around, where viewers are invited
to stick around, as operatic consequences ensue.
In reality, Vinterberg left the commune to run off with the
woman he eventually married, where it was a reaction against the chaos of the
commune, growing calmer and more organized, exactly the opposite of what he was
raised to do. While much of this replicates
the director’s own personal experiences, an unconventional childhood, the
feeling of going against the grain, with slight variations, as Freja’s room is
identical in every respect to Vinterberg’s own as a young teen. Nonetheless, he does a good job of capturing
the spirit of the times, recognizing the risks they were taking, much like his
introduction in the mid 90’s, together with fellow Dane Lars von Trier, of the
founding principles of the Dogme movement, where they were intent on doing
things a different way. With each
there’s a kind of innocence about the purity of what they were trying to do, as
unexplored territory is untainted and open.
That is, until people start screwing things up, which is inevitably what
happens when humans get their hands on something. The idea of couples growing tired of one
another, or the need for exploring someone new, is as old as time itself, but
what’s different here is how Vinterberg personalizes the descent, with Dyrholm
providing a master class of emotions as the meltdown begins, feeling isolated and
ignored, which is a public humiliation in a group setting, as there’s no place
to hide, growing more and more distant and miserable, drinking more, filled
with an anxiety syndrome and deep depression, accompanied by early onset signs
of menopause. Initially she puts on a
brave face and even encourages Erik to bring Emma to their group setting,
perhaps to keep an eye on her, but instead he spends all of his available time
with her, leaving her utterly baffled by the experience as it all dovetails out
of her control. When there’s an initial
group attempt to be understanding of the situation, thinking perhaps Emma’s
arrival is only temporary, Erik has one of those tyrannical fits where he has
to have his way, or else, as it’s his house, and he’ll either have his way or
everyone else will be forced to move.
What’s uncomfortable is how little anyone helps or intercedes, as Emma
joining the household is a constant reminder of Anna’s degradation and shame,
where what’s most difficult to see is a place where youth and growing older
intersect, as it leaves her powerless and disgraced, yet it goes on, with no
intervention, eventually getting taken off the air, as she’s seen as too
unstable. With a humorous and rollicking
ride for an introduction, all fun and games in the beginning, this veers into
the melodramatic, feeling overly one-sided and blatantly unfair, where it all
becomes so deviously cynical, forcing an outcome upon the viewers, much like
Erik manipulating others to get his way.
In a strange way it resembles the game of strip poker, as the one most
interested at the outset turns out to be the biggest loser, the first to be
naked and exposed, unexpectedly uncomfortable without clothes. With tragedy reaching epic proportions, who
but Elton John provides the way with his song Elton John Goodbye Yellow
Brick Road (album version) - YouTube (4:46). Metaphors abound, as inevitably what’s lost
here is innocence. When that goes, with
people wringing their hands, remaining paralyzed in fear and denial, there’s
little left of that beautifully naïve thought that motivated them in the first
place. When the concept dies, they
continue as if nothing happened, blind to their own defects, but with age and
complacency the conservative element sets in, like an unstoppable virus.
