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Celebration
viewed
July 9, 2000 on VHS  Full
Details
One of the greatest blessings a
filmmaker could ever wish for is limitations. The
challenge of working under limited circumstances, having
to face obstacles and rely on one's own resourcefulness
to overcome them, has the potential to lead to
filmmaking that is both inventive and disciplined.
Shortly before the Cannes Film Festival, a handful of
Danish filmmakers, led by the ostentatious Lars Von
Trier, have brought notoriety to themselves with a set
of restrictions to their filmmaking that they have
labled "Dogme 95". Among the ten
"commandments" these filmmakers handed
themselves are that scenes are to be shot with natural
lighting and sound; that no special effects should be
used; and that sex and violence should not be depicted
gratuitously; and, most notably, that only handheld
cameras are to be used. Basically, they are
prohibiting all the elements commonly utilized in
Hollywood filmmaking. It's as much of a publicity
stunt for these filmmakers as an aesthetic code, but
let's face it: in a time where Hollywood films are
sucking the global audience away from their native
cinemas, these guys need all the attention they can get.
The first film to categorize itself
under the Dogme series, Thomas Vinterberg’s Celebration,
is a brilliant introduction to this new aesthetic.
Gimmicky and jarring to watch at first, its power grows
as one realizes how much planning and strategizing has
taken place in every aspect of this film, both within
the actual story and in the scripting and shooting of
it. Briefly, the plot centers around an enormous
family reunion and celebration for the aging
patriarch. Tensions within the children of the
family erupt as one of them makes a sudden and
outrageous accusation against the father. However,
what seems to be an unruly and unfounded outburst is
merely the opening barrage of a carefully constructed
coup involving not only certain family members but the
entire staff of the family estate as well.
The unfolding of this farce is a
marvel to behold, if only because the opening movements
of the film do little to raise our expectations of what
is to follow. The jittery handheld movements can
bring many viewers to nausea -- in my experience
handheld camera movements are generally easier to
stomach on a TV than on the big screen, so I've set a
Dogme of my own when it comes to watching Dogme movies
-- video only. Like the wild swings of the camera,
the plot begins in grating, histrionic, and almost
preposterous strokes.
A man, seeing his brother walking on the road to
their father’s house, picks him up but kicks his own
wife and children out of the car. When one of the
daughters arrives late with her black boyfriend, the
racism of her family and their guests is barely
concealed, until finally the party bursts out in a
racist Danish song (which happens to be the film’s
most jovial moment). Throughout, the picture
quality has a graininess that reflects the underlying
crudity to these high-class characters.
And then, when the complexity of
the machinations within the household are given time to
become clear, we then realize that the filmmaking also
has a strategy it has withheld from us; that the crudity
of its style has been a front for an underlying
sophistication of structure, carefully planned out and
efficiently executed. The final movements of the
film has a satisfying sense of justice to them, and one
realizes how much of an emotional investment he has
taken in these really messed-up characters, who seemed
not worth knowing at all in the beginning. There
is more to Dogme than just a list of rules: it is a
challenging aesthetic which offers opportunities for new
kinds of cinematic surprises and enjoyment. It may
still amount to being just a gimmick, but it is a
gimmick with a bite.
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