The Danish Girl

Tom Hooper has had a great run in recent years with The Kings Speech and Les Misérables. Ridley Scott jokingly described his films as ‘high brow’ in a recent director’s roundtable, and Hooper’s latest film The Danish Girl certainly touches on subject-matter that requires finesse. 

Set in 1920’s Copenhagen, an artistic couple Gerda Wegener (Alicia Vikander) and Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne) are achieving different levels of success. Einar’s landscapes are well-appreciated but the same can’t be said for Gerda’s portraits. Gerda tries to change that with a portrait of a ballet dancer (one of their friends), but when the model is late to show, Gerda asks Einar to stand in. Posing in tights and ballet shoes, the couple uncover Einar’s female alter-ego, Lili but the situation becomes challenging when Einar finds that Lili is closer to his real self than he first imagined. 

The Danish Girl definitely has its issues. For one, if you know the basic story of Lili Elbe then you basically know the movie, although reading up on her afterwards, it’s clear there are some details that have been changed. It would also be unfair of me to pick on its lack of dramatic intrigue, as that’s more of an issue that keeps cropping up in the format of these straightforward biopics, nonetheless even for somebody going in blind, it’s very clear where the story is taking you. Although it strides its two hour run-time with ease, The Danish Girl also has some jarring pacing problems, particularly when Lili undergoes her various sex-reassignment surgeries and time skips around with a lack of clarity. It’s unlikely that you’ll get bored at any point but the timing issues do stand out like a sore-thumb. 

Where The Danish Girl does succeed is in building its characters. Hooper manages to pack in a lot whilst also covering a huge array of content, thanks to actors that make the most of their performances. Alicia Vikander is mostly great as Gerda, although doesn’t trump her performance in Ex Machina - not that that’s a fair comparison of characters - and at points she seems to only be drawing on binary emotional states of jealous anger and guilt-ridden sadness. Eddie Redmayne once again provides a chameleonic performance - perhaps even equal to his bout as Hawking - and through his transformation, justifies the use of a non-trans actor. Although I guess we’ll never really know how well a transgender actor could have handled the character. 

The construction of the film, from score, to cinematography, to editing is very similar to a lot of the ‘straightforward biopics’ we’ve seen in recent years such as The Theory of Everything and Imitation Game, which makes it difficult to set each one’s aesthetics apart from others. However The Danish Girl does construct interesting and varied examples of mise en-scène, particularly the Copenhagen exteriors. Like Carol, The Danish Girl forms its 1920s era with subtlety - not shoving objects, people and events into the story as a glorified timestamp - however certain elements like the at times drab colour palette and their empty apartments creates a gloomy atmosphere which doesn’t necessarily match the overall tone of the film.

The Danish Girl is well acted - especially by Redmayne once again - and packs a lot of story-telling into two hours, albeit with a sometimes staggered pace. The narrative is always interesting, but it’s never unanticipated, and you can’t shake the feeling that the film is big-noting itself as much more influential than it ultimately is.

Bridge of Spies

Despite the critique from many a historian, nobody does history as consistently well as Spielberg. Schindler’s List, Lincoln, and Munich were all fine retellings that balanced fact and emotion extremely well. Other of his films such as Empire of the Sun, War Horse and perhaps most-notably Saving Private Ryan inhabit a detailed, rich historical world, despite adapting the circumstances into their own story. His latest film, Bridge of Spies takes a look at the events surrounding the exchange of Soviet spy Rudolf Abel and American U-2 pilot Gary Powers. 

The year is 1957 and in Brooklyn, KGB spy and talented painter Rudolph Abel (Mark Rylance) goes about his business; retrieving secret messages and not getting caught in the process. However, this time the FBI are on his tail and he’s arrested whilst his hotel room is raided. Elsewhere in town, insurance lawyer James B, Donovan (Tom Hanks) is asked by his boss (Alan Alda) to take on Rudolf’s case. It’s imperative that the U.S justice system is seen to be fairly representing the spy, and the Bar association has unanimously voted that Donovan should draw the short straw. 

A guilty verdict is a forgone conclusion, however Donovan gives the case his all, and even after the verdict, talks with the judge to downplay the sentencing from death to incarceration. There may be a time when an American is captured by the Russians and a trade required. That’s exactly what happens when U-2 reconnaissance pilot Gary Powers (Austin Stowell) crashes over Russia and fails to kill himself. Donovan is chosen to negotiate the trade, however he must travel to the divided Berlin to do this. 

Bridge of Spies plays out like a classic espionage thriller, subtle and nuanced like the most recent notable example Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, but with Spielberg’s personal touch thrown in for good measure. The period style is immediately evident through the set design, and the entrenched fear of the time palpable through minor details like everybody’s favourite civil defence film Duck and Cover. In the Berlin scenes, the fear and panic is noticeable as construction starts on the Berlin Wall; a snapshot of Europe’s instabilities at the time. Thomas Newman’s score stays largely unannounced, but when it does come out, there’s a distinct Road to Perdition feeling to it all. 

Much like his last film Lincoln, Spielberg accents the themes of this quite astounding story through what can be most closely described as ‘selective patriotism’ – drawing out the inherent humanism in liberal American values, whist rejecting the cold bureaucracy that seems to have taken their place. Donovan cites the constitution in his appeal for Abel, partly because he believes in its protective principles – even if Abel’s not an American – partly because he’s foresees the value in keeping him alive, but also because he empathises with Abel. It’s here that Spielberg reveals his true intentions, which are as usual to draw out compassion and build character. 

These areas are what really sets Bridge of Spies apart from what the film could have been in lesser hands. The well-rounded, often witty Matt Charman/Coen Brothers script covers the historical ground exceptionally well, and the gritty cold-war environment is brought to life through Janusz Kamiński’s reserved cinematography. However the good-natured James B. Donovan is the root of this film and carried through by the always-exceptional Tom Hanks. Hanks gives this film everything, both to his role and to others. He’s well known for his generosity as a co-star, and it really shows. Everybody that shares the screen with him is at their very best. Mark Rylance brings a composed genteelness to Abel that makes him immediately likable, and other standout roles include Stowell as Powers, Jesse ‘Lydia O Lydia’ Plemons and all-round acting legend Alan Alda (despite only making a brief few appearances). 

Not only does Bridge of Spies continue to prove that any Spielberg/Hanks collaboration turns to gold, but it marks a strong return to the classic espionage sub-genre, evident even through the notably “old-school” editing. This film is unashamedly Spielbergian in all its glory – from the human interest core to the final moment of minor sentimental overreach. Many criticise Spielberg for his neat and tidy endings but as a piece of historical storytelling, you don’t need anything more. This is a film that brings out the humanity behind the events and is also the first film I’ve seen in ages that got a healthy round of applause at the end, which certainly says something.