Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Anders Refn
Starring: Jesper Christensen, Bodil Jørgensen, Sara Viktoria Bjerregaard, Roman Schomburg, Gustav Dyekjær
Giese, Mads Reuther, Kathrine Thorborg Johansen
Perhaps best known to global cinephiles for his collaborations with
Lars von Trier, in roles as varied as editor and co-director,
Anders Refn (who also happens to be the father of Nicolas
Winding) is something of a cult figure in his native Denmark, having
arrived as a writer/director in the late '70s before transitioning into
editing. His first directorial outing since 1999, WWII family drama
Into the Darkness boasts the sort of resources only
offered to someone who has racked up considerable clout in their
nation's film industry. It's a polished and classy production, but one
that's ultimately a little too shallow for its subject matter.
Like a 1950s Hollywood melodrama or an '80s soap opera,
Into the Darkness revolves around the trials and
tribulations of a bickering wealthy family. Industrialist Karl (Jesper Christensen) is the patriarch of the respected Skov family, though it seems he
owes much of his wealth to his wife, Eva (Bodil Jørgensen), whose
father has bankrolled his business. The Skovs are a content couple, with
a handsome brood of kids who all seem well educated and talented. Then
the Nazis arrive, and the Skov clan is torn apart by split
allegiances.
Karl takes a pragmatic approach, one which reflects the general
attitude in Denmark at the time of a naïve belief that the Germans
wouldn't interfere with their lives too much so long as they behaved. He
gives his business over bit by bit to the Nazi war machine, something
which Eva intensely disapproves of. Their pretty teenage daughter Helene
(Sara Viktoria Bjerregaard) begins courting a slick U-Boat
commander (Roman Schomburg). Oldest son Michael (Gustav Dyekjær Giese) is so fuelled by his hatred of communism that he gladly joins the
Nazi ranks, which sees him sent off to the Eastern front. Conversely,
his brother Aksel (Mads Reuther) has secretly joined the
underground resistance and fallen for a sultry communist (Kathrine Thorborg Johansen).
Into the Darkness has a lot of subplots to dole out, and
even at two and a half hours it feels like it's only scratching the
surface of its story. I didn't even mention two more sons of Karl and
Eva, a pair of jazz musicians whom the film seems to largely forget
about. While Michael and Aksel are broadly drawn, leaving us in no doubt
as to which side they're taking, their old man is a more interesting
figure, one we find uncomfortably relatable. If given the choice between
your family and your country, who among us would choose the latter if
we're brutally honest with ourselves?
But the movie never really allows
us to get inside Karl's head. What does he really believe? Does he
genuinely view the Nazis as a rather harmless inconvenience that will
blow over? Or does he know exactly the threat they pose but is willing
to collaborate to protect his family? Or perhaps he secretly sympathises
with Hitler's cause? We're never presented with enough evidence to pass
judgment on Karl, and he becomes an increasingly frustrating
protagonist.
It's far easier to empathise with Aksel, the one character here who
does the right thing in terms of the greater good. While we may despise
Michael for his decision to join the Nazis, he too seems like a
character whose misplaced loyalties might have fuelled a movie of its
own. In this era where the lines are increasingly blurred between what
constitutes a movie and a TV series, it's impossible not to conclude
that Into the Darkness would have benefitted greatly from
the room to expand its subplots a TV mini-series could have afforded it.
Each member of the Skov family is interesting enough to fuel an episode
devoted entirely to their own storyline rather than the brief,
under-developed snippets we get here. I've seen mention of a planned
sequel, which makes sense given how abruptly the film ends, so perhaps
we will see an expansion of this saga. As it stands however,
Into the Darkness merely teases us with what feels like
crumbs torn from a greater narrative loaf.
