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The Celebration
NOVEMBER 23, 1998:
"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." Could it be the stench
of all those Klingenfeldt family skeletons tumbling from the closets during the course
of the family patriarch's 60th birthday celebration? Christian Klingenfeldt (Thomsen)
is too modern a fellow to be compared with Shakespeare's melancholy young Hamlet
(though he does share many of the prince's attributes and troubles); however, Vinterberg's
pivotal character in The Celebration could well have stepped directly out of a long
day's journey in a Eugene O'Neill family melodrama by way of the discreet charm of
a Luis Buñuel social gathering. This Danish film is an alternately funny and
harrowing look at a family crisis, a meltdown that blends the needs of the truthsayers
with the instincts of the let's-bury-our-heads-in-the-sand-and-pretend-none-of-this-is-happening
types. "I already suffer from depression," one of the cousins is heard
to wail while fumbling for his pills as all hell breaks loose. Generations of the
Klingenfeldt clan and friends of the family have gathered at the family's country
estate/hotel on the occasion of patriarch Helge's 60th birthday. His three children
-- Christian, Michael (Larsen), and Helene (Steen) -- have returned also, but the
gathering is thick with the absence of Christian's twin sister Linda, who was buried
just a few weeks prior to this reunion. When Christian raises his glass to say a
few words about his dead sister and toast his dad, appalling intra-familial accusations
rush from his mouth. The targets and guests politely turn a deaf ear, but Christian
continues his charges throughout the evening. But still, the liquor flows and the
food courses keep coming. The kitchen staff has stolen all the guests' car keys,
so as in any good farce, there is no possibility of exit. The family's blanket insensitivity
to the sordidness of Christian's accusations is compounded by the shameless racism
they display upon the arrival of Helene's black boyfriend. Despite the social depravity
exposed by the situation, these troupers carry on with the utmost decorum. Shot with
a hand-held video camera, The Celebration has a intimate, spontaneous feel that befits
the subject matter. Vinterberg's decision to film in this manner was ordained by
his participation in Dogma 95, the manifesto of a film movement he helped found along
with director Lars von Trier (Breaking the Waves, The Kingdom). The Dogma 95 collective
wrote a "Vow of Chastity" that listed 10 rules of purist filmmaking by
which its directors were to abide. Chief among them were such things as shooting
only on location without additional props, costumes, or sound recording, using only
hand-held cameras, rejecting genre efforts and works not existing in the present,
and renouncing the auteur concept. The primary goal of the Vow, however, seems to
be its utter rebuff of the cinematic status quo and its desire to shake the foundations
of filmmaking to their very core. Though The Celebration abides by these concepts
(except for the "confession" of his transgressions from the Vow that Vinterberg
includes with the press materials), they are happily conditions that suit the subject
matter perfectly. And, ironically, through this anti-auteurist effort, Vinterberg,
cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, and the unflappable cast have created a virtuosic work.
4.0 stars
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