• Produced, written and directed by David Noel Bourke
• Starring
  • Morten Vogelius
  • Jette Philipsen
  • Gry Bay
  • Peter Ottesen
  • Nicholas Sherry

The credits above don’t exactly give the entire picture. In addition to being a triple hyphenate, David Noel Bourke is also credited for sound design; his partner-in-crime, Andre Moulon, is the director of photography, art director, and co-director. Together they were co-editors, camera operators, and I think they also did the catering.

Actually, I doubt there WAS catering, on this feature, because the whole thing was put together guerrilla-style on a minuscule budget. But despite the strictures of the almighty dollar (or krone, as the case may be), the finished product is remarkably accomplished. It’s an accomplishment that can cause me to ignore my usual apathy toward underworld crime dramas featuring unshaven Europeans.

“Of course the needle makes me happy. Can’t you tell by my expression?”

Our central unshaven European is Nigel (Morten Vogelius), a Brit living in Denmark with his Danish wife Maria (Jette Philipsen), if you can really call it “living.” He’s got no job, and spends all evening drinking in bars and renting porn to take home; she has a job, and spends her evenings shooting up heroin in the greenhouse behind their place. They rarely communicate, and only end up in bed together every once in a while. Part of the problem is that this is somewhat a marriage of convenience; Nigel got in trouble with a small-time crime lord in London and had to skip the country, piggy-backing with his then-girlfriend Maria back to her native nation. The other part of the problem, I suspect, is that Maria’s got this heroin-chic Bjorkish thing going on, and Nigel may really not be into Bjork that big.

Given the state of their lives, it can’t help but be a turn for the better (or can it???) when a barroom acquaintance (Erling Eliasson) tells Nigel that a local underworld businessman, known simply as “the President,” might have an opening. On the other hand, I personally would be kind of leery getting employment tips from a guy in a bar who wears an eyepatch.

Because sex is always better with gyrating lights that make you dizzy.

The President (Peter Ottesen) turns to be a contender for the ugliest man in the world, and is very believably confident and cruel. He gives Nigel the simple job of “babysitting” fifty boxes of videotapes in his apartment for two weeks, for 10,000 kroner (by my best estimates, that’s about $1500). He also sets Nigel up with Tanya (Gry Bay), a sexpot in his employ who knows how to maintain her “kept woman” status. Ah, the cunning wiles of a crimelord; for by compromising Nigel’s personal boundaries and exploiting his weakness, he puts Nigel more in his thrall than he could by simple debt or threats.

Since Nigel really didn’t have much going on at home in the first place, it doesn’t take much for him to succumb to Tanya’s charms. Maria immediately begins to suspect something, but since Nigel’s now brought home enough money to help with her heroin habit, she grits her teeth and leaves his lies untouched.

The President eats the world’s most intimidating sandwich.

For a little bit, it seems like Nigel might actually make some headway against his debt back home and finally return to London. But bad karma has a way of ganging up on you. First the President discovers that the entire shipment of videocassettes is blank, and lays the debt at Nigel’s feet. Then Tanya is visited and raped by an old boyfriend, and when that proves to be a little too much for Nigel to deal with in an adulterous relationship, she clubs him with a can of beans and slits her own wrists. And while all this is going on, Maria starts vomiting at regular intervals, and you KNOW the only thing that can cause that in MovieLand…

By the end, through a combination of poor judgment, the instinct for self-preservation, and simple rotten luck, Nigel is pushed to the very edge of whatever ethical standards he may have left. What wouldn’t he do? Would he dismember and dispose of a body? Would he pull off a child abduction for the President? (Come on — in this era of easy access to porn, what did you think could be on those contraband videotapes?)

No, it’s not a “Before and After.”

The story may seem a little thin, and what there is of it is definitely not a cheerful one; it’s a dark, pessimistic, almost nihilistic story, meant to disturb through implication and intent rather than simple on-screen lewdness and barbarism. It manages to accomplish its goals well despite its budget through a confluence of quality elements: Very credible performances, confident and fluid camera work, almost preternaturally-surefooted editing, and an assortment of music which at times seems counterintuitive but which adds an extra level of depth to the visuals. When people talk about “music video-style filmmaking,” they often mean a glitzy but shallow style of direction. In this case, though, the strengths of the MTV generation are brought to bear: Active and evocative camera work, and an awareness that shorthand image and aural subtext can often say more than simple dialogue.

What little bits of humor there are — and “humor” may even be too strong a word; let’s say “less immediate interludes” — result from Nigel’s interactions with the local marijuana dealer, an overly philosophical fellow expatriate named Jimmy (Andre Moulin again). Jimmy is given to forcing his customers (or maybe it’s juts Nigel in particular) to listen to his meandering rambles about the origins of the cosmos, our places therein, and the Meaning Of It All before he turns over the merchandise. However, because he usually gives out a free hit before he launches into his speech, the pontification goes down a little easier. And in a movie populated by terse and desperate people, Jimmy gets all the best lines, like “Saying the universe came from the Big Bang is like saying babies come from maternity wards.”

“Whoa — suddenly I feel twice as smart!”

As I said, grim crime-dramas aren’t one of my favored genres, so it’s hard for me to make a comparative assessment of the movie. I definitely wouldn’t recommend this to the easily offended, or even those who look to offensive elements for their escapist entertainment value. Likewise, I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone with borderline depression, or even those who may have had a bad day at work. But for the storytelling finesse, especially as realized on a paper-route budget, I have to recommend this as a worthwhile example of microbudget filmmaking, and quite possibly the best bang-for-the-buck in cinema history.

Some Notable Totables:

• body count: 4
• breasts: 3
• explosions: 0
• ominous thunderstorms: 0
• actors who’ve appeared on Star Trek: 0