The Hunt
Jagten

Danish filmmaker Thomas Vinterberg, director of The Celebration—the first, and arguably best, film made under the Dogma 95 rubric—is back with an even more powerful film that centers on a similar accusation. The Hunt plays like a modern update of Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour adapted by Franz Kafka and script-doctored by Shirley Jackson: yet it is remarkably devoid of sensationalism and overt metaphor. Free of the Dogma rules, Vinterberg’s restrained direction, sharp and controlled camera work, seamless editing, and consummate casting creates an exquisite portrait of a small-town Danish community with which most middle-class Americans can easily identify. But the brilliance of this movie is that, while the truth of the events is never in doubt, and our sympathies are always with its innocent protagonist, we can identify with most every character in the picture. This is because Vinterberg and co-writer Tobias Lindholm have crafted a clear and honest screenplay, free of preaching and melodrama but overflowing with tension and subtext.

Mads Mikkelsen, who is rapidly becoming the Jack Nicholson (or at least the John Malkovitch) of the new Danish cinema, is cast against type in the lead role of Lucas. With his sinister facial features and the villainous screen persona he has acquired over the last decade in films like Pusher, Valhalla Rising, and Casino Royale—not to mention playing Hannibal Lechter on TVs Hannibal—Mikkelsen is an inspired choice to play this decent man caught up in an out-of-control spiral of communal hysteria. Giving an equally arresting and understated performance is Annika Wedderkopp, the kindergartener whose words incite the narrative. This very young child’s remarkable performance is assisted by Vinterberg’s uncanny and near-invisible exposition. I knew nothing about this picture when I saw it, apart from who the director and star were, and I had no idea where the story was heading, but once it got there I could see how cleverly and efficiently the film is set up. Like co-writer Lindholm does in his own directorial offering this same year, A Hijacking, Vinterberg creates a disturbing and emotionally searing drama without a traditional antagonist. This kind of nuanced screen storytelling is instructive—we empathize with all the characters because we could find ourselves in the position of any of the people in this town, including Lucas, and our feelings, actions and reactions would most likely be very similar to theirs. This is a disturbing realization to contemplate and it stays with you long after the credits roll.