In Order of Disappearance (Hans Moland, 2014)

This is a comedy. It’s got an international sensitivity so the humour, though dark and black, is tricky to navigate. In Order of Disappearance, in its white vistas and father-on-a-killing-spree plot, seems to downplay the connection it could have to recent Daddy-action romps Taken and Three Days to Kill. This time with Stellan Skarsgård in the Dad role, rather than merely kidnapped, his son has been murdered and he is hunting down those responsible, one-by-one.

Nils Dickmann (Skarsgård) is introduced as “Citizen of the Year” through his expert snow-ploughing skills (something Stellan Skarsgård told Flickering Myth was a huge amount of fun). The Twin Peaks Norwegian village he lives within seems to include a vast array of different drug-financed criminals including Dickmann’s brother – though he decided to settle down. His son is killed unceremoniously in the opening moments and Nils first reaction is to blow his own head off, until his a friend of his son, Finn (Tobias Santelmann), pops up and changes his mind. As Nils works his way up the chain (with a single cross alongside a name when each character is killed) the stakes get higher and multiple gangs are involved, including Serbian’s led by Bruno Ganz.

There is surely a point being made when films praise the older, traditional man against the young upstarts who kill recklessly and break the law. In Order of Disappearance features clumsy and proud villains, and Nils seems to take each character down with ease. In a similar manner to Fargo, In Order of Disappearance uses the snow-scape to give a sense of innocence to this small village before showing the ugly truth beneath the surface. The kills he racks up forces a pause for the moment, as Nils erodes away his own innocence too. His introverted persona makes each death play out in quiet succession, as if he is simply taking out the trash. Writer Kim Fupz Aakeson also seems to play around with cinema references, squeezing in banter about the ridiculous names of criminals (“Wingman”, “Chinaman”, etc) or explicitly stating his inspirations, as Nils brother tells him “When did you become Dirty Harry?”

In Order of Disappearance is a strange beast. With expected laughs from ludicrous moments involving snow-ploughs and para-skiers, it also hints at an interesting edge as henchmen are shown to have backstories and nuanced characteristics that fail to resonate throughout the story. We are told how “young people destroying themselves” is commonplace and police seem to shy away from tackling the crime too – is this part of the comedy? Or is this a serious side-note?  It feels muddled or simply aimed at a niche audience.

In any case, director Hans Petter Moland manages to capture incredible vistas as snow cascades down across the screen and Skarsgård’s performance remains a haunting depiction of a grieving father; bitter, frustrated, focused on avenging his son’s death. Apparently, “Norwegian kids can’t disappear or bad obnoxious parents look for them”. Clearly, Skarsgård captures that bad (he is killing people) obnoxious parent. But In Order of Disappearance is an acquired taste. If dark humour and revenge-stories in snowy terrain is your cup of tea, then plough ahead.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (Werner Herzog, 1979)

Remaking an established, classic, staple of German expressionist cinema in 1979 must’ve been a tough sell. Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu the Vampyre, primarily a re-telling of F.W. Murnau’s silent masterpiece, is also a deeply eerie, unsettling and haunting film in its own right. Herzog is not averse to remakes, as he has proven recently with Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Unlike Bad Lieutenant, Herzog chose Nosferatu so he could play with Murnau’s story and expand upon minor-moments in his own unique manner. Combining elements from Browning’s Dracula and the original novel by Bram Stoker meant that Herzog could develop his work to potentially become the definitive story of the Count.

The standard story sets the film up. Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz) is an estate agent, sent by his boss Renfield (Roland Topor), to visit Count Dracula (Klaus Kinski) in Transylvania. Dracula is due to buy a house in Bremen and Harker needs to ensure he signs the deeds. Harker is hesitant at first as he does not want to leave his wife (intensely played by Isabelle Adjani) but decides to go anyway so that he can buy her a house. Arriving in Transylvania, he is warned of the demons that lurk in the castle but dismisses them as he doesn’t believe in such supernatural occurrences. Harker meets Dracula, a bald rat of a man with long white fangs for his front two teeth. In a moment of terror, Hawker cuts himself and Dracula, to help, sucks the blood. Harker’s locket falls free and Dracula is transfixed by the beauty of Harker’s wife, Lucy. The Count has claws and, as Harker sleeps, Dracula sucks his blood and soon after leaves Transylvania locking Harker in his castle so Dracula can have Lucy for himself.

As Dracula makes his way to Bremen, we begin to see the first of the white rats that will plague the city. Within simple, but sinister coffins full of soil of Transylvania, these rats will unleash a new misery on the town. On the ship itself, one-by-one, all human life ceases to exist and only Dracula arrives on the ship in Bremen. Harker does manage to break free from the castle and travels by horse through the vast landscapes. With decreasing energy and slowly moving closer to death, he returns to Bremen a gravely ill, shell of a man.

The lead performances by Ganz, Kinski and Adjani are complex. Rather than merely a heroic man, to save the day, Harker is conflicted and his decaying body brings with it darker demons that spoil his mind. Lucy, alternatively, will not give her love to Dracula – but she is willing to give her life. Dracula despises life and, though pained when faced with death, believes death is an escape from his morbid existence. Herzog holds steady a sinister pace with a deeply unsettling cold atmosphere. Shots linger for longer than they need to and the slow arm reaching across the room – a direct reference to Murnau’s masterpiece – continues for an awful amount of time. Will he reach out to get us in the audience? The expansion on the use of coffins and the plague is grotesque. In one sequence white rats infest the square and friends gather round a table celebrating their imminent death. One cut, and the family are gone as the rats eat the leftover food. There is no sharp, shock moment; there is no gore; there is just the knowledge of their dreadful deaths.

 

The vast landscapes, akin to Aguirre, Wrath of God, on widescreen is breath-taking. Horses chop across the muddy roads and a juxtaposition between the beauty in nature of Transylvania is against the horror that happens behind the closed doors of the castle. The story of infestation, blood-sucking and lust is timeless. Herzog’s interpretation is littered with meaning and subtext, purposefully challenging us as viewers to correlate the gothic themes to our own society. Though slow-paced and using a controlled, pastel-palette of colours, Herzog’s Nosferatu is surely the way adaptations should go. Respectfully self-aware and reverential to the original, Nosferatu is. But it also remains relevant and develops the story so that it holds its own, whether you have seen Murnau’s or not.

A-Z #65: Downfall

You can pick up hundreds of DVDs for a round-pound each - it doesn't matter. It's never about quantity, it's about quality. A-Z is my way of going through my collection, from A-Z, and understanding why I own the films ... or you can tell me why I should sell 'em

#65 - Downfall

Why did I buy it?

Because who doesn't want to see what happened in that bunker during those final hours. Hitler had pretty much lost the war and, somehow, he had to lead his army to the bitter end. I think the very idea of humanising such a monster equally intrigues me - think of how the terrorists are portrayed in Four Lions and, though two-dimensional to some extent, there are hints of a very human approach to terrorism in United 93.

Why do I still own it?

Because it still stands as a truly fascinating film. The filmmakers clearly tried to create a 'definitive' account of Hitler's final days. Bruno Ganz researched Hitler for months attempting to accurately portray Hitler's Austrian accent - to the point that Ian Kershaw for The Guardian wrote how his depiction was "chillingly authentic". The filmmakers used eye-witness accounts, survivors memoirs and other historical sources to accurately portray the bunker. All these facets came together to produce a film that is a fascinating historical tool. I think this film shows a true reflection of the horror of World War II - a powerful figure who, though human, was a corrupt human who had been created from a political construct rooted in racism, fear and power. But inevitably, as a human, he was defeated.

Have you seen Downfall? Do you agree?