Submarino

There's a very fine line between probing into human failings and all-out misery. Director Thomas Vinterberg's latest balances itself precariously between the two throughout, wavering between plot elements that seem grounded in its characters' emotional realities and those that are unnecessarily grim. Ultimately however, the movie redeems itself thanks to fine ensemble work and its daring, assured direction.

"Submarino" is the unforgettable story of two brothers, long estranged and haunted by a dark secret buried in their past, who live separate lives in modern day Copenhagen. Nick (Jakob Cedergren), a violent ex-con, tries to help out an old friend, but falls quickly into old habits. Meanwhile, his brother (Peter Plaugborg), raises his son, but is unable to escape his own demons of addiction. Each is on a path to self-destruction, and they must find each other -- before it's too late.

The cast is uniformly strong -- both Cedegren and Plaugborg are solidly believable in their roles. Cedegren's acting, minimal and yet poignant, is especially remarkable. Vinterberg has a genuine respect for his characters and a desire to see them transcend their trappings, and his film, in turn, mostly succeeds where it could so easily have fallen short. When its numerous narrative threads finally converge, the resulting pathos feels genuinely earned and authentic.

Adapted from the novel by Jonas T. Bengtsson, "Submarino" was an official selection at the 2010 Berlin International Film Festival.

I don't get why they called this movie Submarino. I must have missed something or maybe I'm just too stupid to understand the pun. That said, it doesn't really matter as long as the movie is entertaining and that it was for sure. It's a Danish drama, about two brothers that grew up in a highly dysfunctional family, with an alcoholic mother that can only bothered by her next drink. The story is told in two parts, each part seen by the other brother. It isn't a happy movie, the desperation is overwhelming, but it's realistic, certainly for people living in big cities where these kind of things happen on a daily basis. I didn't know any of the actors but they all did a very good job playing their characters. Their acting made this movie worth watching.

I just had the honour to watch this Danish film at the Berlin Film Festival, and I have the feeling that this could be the winner. I don't want to give anything away, so I will be very general.

What we witness is the compelling story of two brothers divided by life, united by the same tragic event. Both adrift in their sorrow, they run down their self-destructive paths, with little to fight for.

It is no big drama, though. The narration is gentle and respectful, and leaves the audience in the position of not being able to judge the characters for their almost invariably wrong choices, but with a strong feeling of compassion for all of them.

The performances of the whole cast are extremely convincing (including the little boy playing Martin)and Vinterberg's direction - unlike his previous Dogma movies - is at the service of the disturbing realism of the story, working at the same time with a beautiful composition of the scenes (the cinematography, from the very first scenes, helps going straight to the soul). Chapeau.

A special praise has to go to the two actors playing the grown-up brothers. Jakob Cedergren (Nick) in particular makes us see the fragility of his character through his eyes, despite his apparent and imposing physical strength. But the whole cast is really credible all along, both with their physical appearance and their realistic acting.

This movie, with its realistic description of the consequences and the dynamics of substance addiction, destroyed families (what a critic to the Scandinavian society, where alcoholism is a devastating plague) should be screened in every high school.

And, let's say the truth: if you don't find yourself silently weeping in the last prison and church scenes, you most likely have no heart at all. I am fighting with my tears right now, just playing the movie in my mind again.

I have not read the novel, and barely knew that this was based upon one. This film is like a splinter in your heart, from the first frame to the last. It is pushed to the limit of what we can handle of authentic misery. The social realism, so unrelenting, such rich detail to it, and none of it strains credulity. I was interested in this from when I first heard of it, and when I found out it was by Thomas Vinterberg, the man behind Festen and Dear Wendy, I knew I would watch this. He does wonders with the editing and the cinematography, creating a bleak and mundane(not to be confused with ugly or boring) feel to the visuals, matching the lives of the people we are witnessing and their environment. The camera stays "in the background", letting what we see speak for itself. This has impeccable writing, the events, the dialog(and its delivery), the crowning little touches, it's all excellent. In the end, what truly makes this work beyond belief is the amazing acting from everyone(who are all perfectly cast, as well), and that definitely also goes for the children(who, might I add, are charming and sweet kids, too, including the baby; seriously, can't you count on one hand the infants in movies that are *genuinely* cute? This is one of the only ones, in over a century of the medium), who deliver some of the most astonishing performances seen from ones around that age. Honestly, there is perhaps one single(and entirely understandable) moment that isn't completely convincing, but everything that comes before or since is. In spite of all that we see them do, we sympathize with the credible and well-developed characters. There is a lot of disturbing content, a bit of violence, some sexuality and infrequent strong language in this. I recommend this to anyone mature enough for the subject matter, at least if you can handle it. 10/10

Still involved in his preoccupations with collapse of family foundation and its bonds (as evident also in his fantastic Dogme 1, FESTEN), Vinterberg comes back to Berlin with a film which is not about love at all, but about misery in general. SUBMARINO is the story of lack of love, family and commitment which is reflected in addiction, despair and murder. Looking through a glass darkly at the depressed people in times of depression, it gains its strength from the constraint approach to the subject matter. In his usual personal visions (of course, without a trembling camera after his Dogme propaganda and anti-bourgeoisie pretense), Vinterberg finds his way through a way far from any sentimentality. Grey overtones in each shot marks the world he's going to portray – a world in which everyone has forgotten all about fear and trembling. However it seems too naturalistic, SUBMARINO is able to make a survey into the lives of miserable men of the third millennium, not as a tearjerker, but as a veritable mirror