The Commune (Kollektivet)

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.   

Far From the Madding Crowd (2015)

FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD                B+               
Great Britain  USA  (119 mi)  2015  ‘Scope  d:  Thomas Vinterberg             Official site

Far From the madding crowd’s ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;
Along the cool sequester’d vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

"Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard", by Thomas Gray, 1751 (excerpt)

An epic and sweeping romantic story of long-repressed love, based on the 19th century Thomas Hardy novel set in the Victorian period of the 1870’s, his fourth and first successful novel, listed at #10 in a 2007 Guardian poll (Emily Brontë hits the heights in poll to find greatest love story) of the greatest love stories of all time, which follows the exploits of a feisty, determined, and extremely independent woman, Carey Mulligan as Bathsheba Everdene, initially seen confidently riding a horse galloping through the English countryside of rural Dorset, supposedly 200 miles from London, where the idyllic pastoral beauty of south and southwest England is described in the book as Wessex, based on the real locations of the author’s birthplace but given a somewhat fictionalized and dreamlike embellishment.  Hard to believe this is the same director whose “vow of chastity” forsook the indulgences of special effects, musical scores, props or sets, special lighting, post-production modifications and other technical wizardry as one of the original founders of the short-lived Dogme 95 movement, the maker of THE CELEBRATION (FESTEN) (1998), one of a small cadre of artists insisting upon naturalism, accentuating the artistry of the performers instead of the influence of the studio.  While authenticity was the goal then, this film has all the Hollywood grandeur and style of big budget spectacles made during the height of the studio era, though made for a fraction of the cost.  Nonetheless, the look of the film is spellbinding, all shot on actual 35 mm film (and it shows!), beautifully captured by the luminous and vividly textured cinematography of Charlotte Bruus Christensen, who also shot Vinterberg’s previous film The Hunt (Jagten) (2012).  As Hardy’s most pastoral novel, a good portion of the book consists of detailed descriptions of the landscape and farming techniques, expressed in the movie through the visuals of green rolling hills and an attachment to the land that is everpresent throughout, paying homage to Dovzhenko’s EARTH (1930) with utterly spectacular shots of peasants working in the fields, yet captured here in glorious color, where the painterly images of harvest scenes are perhaps only exceeded by Terrence Malick’s gloriously filmed masterpiece DAYS OF HEAVEN (1978).  While adapting Jane Austen novels may be the preferred pre-Victorian author to grace the cinema screens, usually given a more modernist, feminist perspective, Thomas Hardy has hardly been shortchanged, as Michael Winterbottom’s JUDE (1996), an ultra bleak adaptation of Hardy’s final 1896 novel Jude the Obscure, starring a hauntingly beautiful 20-year old Kate Winslet, remains one of the extraordinary romantic tragedies on record.  Hardy novels don’t typically result in upbeat, feelgood movies, as it’s clear Victorian women had fewer choices, so those that actually made the best of their limited options were seen as stronger and more aggressive, making excellent role models for the women of today, and while this may not have the awesome visual power of Roman Polanski’s TESS (1979), whose majestic agricultural scenes are also compared to Malick ("Girl, interrupted; Roman Polanski's Tess (1979)"), Mulligan’s fiercely winning performance is far more likely to produce smiles rather than tears. 

Without providing any backdrop for the story, Bathsheba is educated, self-aware, and essentially a modern young woman living on her own with her aunt, having a chance meeting with a neighboring sheep farmer, the introverted, muscular, and hardworking Gabriel Oak (Matthias Schoenaerts) who is taken by her somewhat out-of-character, bold and proudly defiant manner.  They develop a quick friendship, where he makes a surprisingly blunt proposal of marriage, claiming the farm he leases could easily become their home.  While flattered, she’s afraid to give up her independence, something she values more than a husband.  The winds of change offer each of them a unique twist of fate, where Bathsheba inherits a mammoth estate in Weatherbury from her uncle, one of the largest farms in the region, making her instantly wealthy, while in a dreamlike sequence a crazed and inexperienced sheep dog drives Gabriel’s sheep over a high cliff, a scene made especially dramatic over the rugged coastline of the Golden Cap, killing them all while leaving him penniless.  Traveling the roads, looking for a job, he comes upon a blazing fire in the night, where he immediately pitches in and actually saves the barn almost singlehandedly by daringly putting out the fire on the roof.  In the aftermath, when asking the owner for a job, he’s surprised to learn it’s Bathsheba, their positions now reversed.  She hires him as the foreman in charge, while she is almost never seen again without her own trusted maidservant Liddy (Jessica Barden), from whom she learns all the latest gossip and news.  Together they form a female alliance against a bartering monopoly of men, who customarily do all the buying and selling of crops along with the various necessities, including her neighboring landowner William Boldwood (Michael Sheen), a prosperous farmer who is proud and aloof and likely more than twice her age.  Despite this difference, he is smitten by her playful and zestful charm, stirring emotions he felt were altogether lost.  Offering to combine their estates through marriage, she views it more as a business decision than a matter of the heart, stringing him along while she seeks better offers, which arrives on her doorstep in the form of a gallant soldier, Sergeant Francis Troy (Tom Sturridge), who fits the bill as a dashing Prince Charming.  While Gabriel sees through the young man’s veneer and warns Bathsheba not to get too interested, she’s aroused by his charm and masculinity, and perhaps his scarlet red uniform, which he displays in an erotic display of swordsmanship.  Knowing little to nothing about him, she loses all self control and finds herself lost in her sudden euphoria, marrying him on the spot, an impulsive act she lives to regret, discovering the pain and humiliation of realizing she can’t control the repulsive actions of others, as Troy quickly leaves her in debt with excessive drinking and gambling problems.  When a woman from his past suddenly reappears, but just as quickly dies in childbirth while carrying Troy’s child, he shuns his new wife, brazenly telling her “This woman is more to me, dead as she is, than ever you were, or are, or can be.”

When her husband puts an end to his misery, leaving his uniform onshore and swimming out as far as the fates would have him, his death is considered no loss to anyone.  Boldwood renews his interest in pursuing Bathsheba, willing to pay off all her husband’s debts, even agreeing to allow Gabriel to run both farms, as his closeness to Bathsheba is evident, loyal, overprotective, always looking out for her interests, usually expressed in furtive glances, where they are likely the subject of scandalous rumor that Boldwood is too remote from hearing.  After a particularly successful harvest, the entire staff has a dinner party, celebrating with drink and song, where Boldwood unexpectedly drops in, hoping for an answer, while Bathsheba is persuaded to perform a song, singing Let No Man steal Your Thyme - Carey Mulligan (From "Far ... YouTube (2:57), a traditional British and Irish folksong that lyrically warns young people of the risks and dangers of taking false lovers.  While promising him nothing, Boldwood is emboldened, feeling the time is right, that she will finally accept his offer.  Making all the necessary arrangements, he holds a lavish Christmas Eve party sure that he will win her heart, but Bathsheba feels even more suffocated, prematurely walking out of the party when she suddenly encounters her husband, not dead after all, but drunk, broke, and in a ragged state, rudely ordering her about, grabbing her arm, claiming her as his property, causing her to scream in fright.  Boldwood shoots him dead on the spot, just as Gabriel had earlier shot his deranged sheep dog.  Spared the death penalty, calling it a crime of passion, he’s nonetheless imprisoned and out of her life forever.  Despite her best intentions, she realizes she has an impact on the lives of others, even unintentionally.  While she’s initially seen as carefree and irresponsible, seduced by her own ideas of freedom, but later becomes more ruthlessly aloof, deluded by her own power, caught up in a battle of wills, completely unaware of the suffering she brings others, who are themselves consumed by thoughts of her that amount to little more than male fantasy, often languishing for years in a state of emotional paralysis, waiting for the right opportunity that never comes.  Using Craig Armstrong’s musical score to capture emotions that the characters themselves are unable to express, Bathsheba utters one of the most eloquent lines late in the film, “It is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.”  Much of this picture reveals the gulf that lies between the words that are never spoken, the hopes, the desires, the repressed dreams, and the unintended consequences that often haunt people to their graves, all shown in a choreography of body language and facial expressions.  The Victorian era did not allow straightforward honesty, as people were defined by their class status and social standing, where thoughts were expressed through the power of suggestion.  While the lower classes could speak freely amongst themselves, it was considered impudent to speak frankly and openly to one’s employer, unable to cross the class barrier, where it was required to hold one’s tongue.  Is it really any different today?  The social divide between Bathsheba and Gabriel effects every conversation they ever have, becoming an insurmountable obstacle throughout most of the film, a long-suffering open wound that can only bleed and fester, but concealed and out of sight from everyone else.  It was a private world one lived in, lost in their own reveries and rhapsodic thoughts, where any thoughts of reaching a connecting understanding is more of a mirage that rarely intrudes into their actual lives.  The liberating, feminist sentiment is provided by our own, modern day vantage point, knowing full well that even under today’s more open circumstances, true communication is a lost art, where people continue to drown in their own repressed and often agonizing sorrows and regrets, unable to change those few haunting and fateful moments that seem to forever define our lives.   

The Hunt (Jagten)

THE HUNT (Jagten)        A-          
Denmark  (115 mi)  2012  ‘Scope  d:  Thomas Vinterberg          Official site

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breast full of milk
And a manger full of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

—Gustav Holst, “In the Bleak Midwinter,” words by Christina Georgina Rossetti  King's College Cambridge 2005 #4 In the Bleak Midwinter Gustav ... YouTube (4:35)

Historically, we think of women accused of witchcraft being burned at the stake, depicted in Carl Dreyer’s THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928) and DAY OF WRATH (1943), where Sweden in the 17th century executed as many as 71 accused witches in a single day, where the vast majority were women, estimated at more than 75%.  While the hysteria surrounding these witch hunts is well documented in Europe and North America, there is a similar outcry against those men accused of child molestation, the subject of Fritz Lang’s brilliant police procedural M (1931), where Peter Lorre is the psychopathic pedophile who can’t stop himself from kidnapping and murdering little girls.  In Lang’s film, the criminal element detested the crime as much as the police and the general public, actually putting the criminal on trial before a jury of his peers, other criminals, where the police break in just before they are about to put him to death.  Another spellbinding effort is Todd Field’s Little Children (2006), where Jackie Earle Haley is a convicted pedophile who is forced to register his whereabouts with the police, whose address is then posted by community do-gooders throughout the town, notifying his neighbors, writing inflammatory graffiti on his sidewalk, literally hounding him wherever he goes.  The hysteria surrounding his presence in a public pool filled with little children is simply unforgettable.  In a sense, these are all FRANKENSTEIN (1931) movies with a riled up mob carrying torches, shovels, and pitchforks chasing a monster through the forests, where it all feels like a bad dream or a figment of our imagination, where afterwards we have to ask ourselves:  Did that really happen?  Vinterberg re-introduces similar thoughts in a close-knit but small town rural atmosphere, where local tradition sends the men into the forests with guns, where the sign of passing from adolescence into manhood is the first instance of killing wild game, where the men get excessively drunk afterwards to celebrate, singing hunting songs and expressing camaraderie while they continually drink themselves into a stupor.           

Mads Mikkelsen is Lucas, something of a gentle giant, whose imposing size does not detract from his love of children, allowing all the boys to pile on top of him at school where he works as a kindergarten teacher.  One fearfully shy and particularly vulnerable little girl, Klara (Annika Wedderkopp), is often left alone after school where Lucas kindly walks her home, as she’s the daughter of his best friend and next door neighbor, Theo (Thomas Bo Larsen).  Lucas oddly lives alone in one of the more palatial estates in town, where he’s going through a particularly messy divorce, rarely able to see his teenage son Marcus (Lasse Fogelstrøm), who he adores, made more difficult by an ex-wife that refuses to talk to him on the phone.  Lucas has a newly developing love interest, Nadja (Alexandra Rapaport), a Russian immigrant that works at the school, which coincides with an anticipated visit from Marcus, who would prefer to be living with his father.  All happiness is thwarted, however, by a relatively minor incident, where Karla wants to jump on top of Lucas along with the rest of the boys, planting a big kiss on his mouth, where she’s sternly admonished by Lucas afterwards who reminds her that kissing on the mouth is only for parents and family.  But this causes a certain hurtful embarrassment to Karla, seen alone sitting in the dark after school, still brooding about the incident, discovered by the school principal Grethe (Susse Wold) when Karla inexplicably starts describing sexual images from a graphic porn site her brother was watching and attributes this to Lucas.  While Grethe is a concerned citizen who fears for the welfare of the school children, she calls in a child psychologist.  What’s immediately clear by the inappropriately leading questions and the school’s failure to include the parents in the interview is this town has no history in dealing with this matter, where their very lack of professionalism further inflames the situation, where the story only escalates, spreading ugly rumors behind the scenes, as soon other children start describing similar episodes, and before long not only the school and the parents, but the entire town viciously turns against Lucas, making him a pariah, where people are disgusted and revolted by his presence, shunned by his best friend, refused service in the local market, where even his girlfriend has doubts about his character. 

Succumbed by the mass hysteria, Lucas is the picture of disarray and personal turmoil, isolated in his lonely castle, afraid to come out, where there is nothing he can do or say that anyone would believe, as the general community belief is that “children don’t lie.”  Even as Karla confesses that Lucas didn’t do anything wrong, adults refuse to believe her, thinking this is a symptom of sexual abuse, where a child wants to believe nothing happened in order to protect themselves from the evil that did occur.  In all too many instances, that’s exactly what does happen, as memories are suppressed, and only after years of intensive therapy can one separate illusion from reality.  It may be 10 or 20 years before some severely traumatized sexual abuse victims realize what actually happened.  Vinterberg’s film is an interesting contrast to a recent Danish film also starring Mikkelsen, a historical depiction of a scandalous affair taking place in the 18th century royal court of Denmark in Nikolaj Arcel’s  A Royal Affair (En kongelig affære) (2012), while this film recalls Fritz Lang’s Fury (1936), William Wellman’s The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), or Hitchcock’s The Wrong Man (1956), films where someone is wrongfully accused.  Vinterberg layers this lynch mob mentality in Christian beliefs, as Lucas becomes a Christ-like figure who is despised and rejected in a flurry of hatred, where church music, like Carl Nielsen’s “Mitt hjerte alltid vanker” Mitt hjerte alltid vanker - Carola - YouTube (4:08), the hauntingly sublime Michael Praetorius - 'Es Ist Ein Ros Entsprungen' - YouTube (2:15), or Gustav Holst’s Christmas carol “In the Bleak Midwinter” King's College Cambridge 2005 #4 In the Bleak Midwinter Gustav ... YouTube (4:35), become not only a countering Christmas message but also an ode to winter, a contrast to some of the bleakest and most despicable human behavior.  In this way, it’s hard “not” to identify with the wrongfully persecuted, where much of the raw and dramatic power of Mikkelsen’s staggering performance is his ability to absorb and endure the wrath of his enemies.  In this manner, there’s a certain texture to this film, especially the bleakness of winter, poetically rendered through a silent landscape or a child’s appreciation for the first snow The Hunt [Jagten] (2012) - Thomas Vinterberg - YouTube (1:28), or a single church seen as a gathering place where the entire community meets for Christmas services, where the town’s intolerance is thrust against the Biblical teachings of Christ, particularly as it reflects upon children, where the smallest among us have committed no sins, where the ire of indignation is squarely pointed in our own direction, where the film is in essence a commentary on evil, and how easily we tend to blame outsiders for all that’s wrong with the world, while we are the makers of our own misfortune.