"Dear Wendy" comes from the talents that brought us "Festen" and "It's All About Love" (both written and directed by Thomas Vinteberg), "Dogville," "Dancer in the Dark" and "Breaking the Waves" (written and directed by Lars Von Trier). They have collaborated on Dear Wendy, with Vinteberg at the helm and penned by Trier.
This is my favorite kind of movie; it begins with a "what if..." premise, which the storytellers follow with relentless commitment. In this case, the premise is "what if some misfit kids fell in love with their guns." Well, they'd give them names, they'd practice shooting and have a secret clubhouse, they'd study the famous gun-toting heroes of old, and the relationship they have with their weapons would become a mirror for their relationships with the world. All of which are pursued beautifully in the film.
Quite a few American movie critics read this film as a critique of American society, and they resent a European making a film about small-town America. An oft-vented complaint is that Trier has no business criticizing a country which he's never actually visited. I don't think, however, that this is ultimately a film about guns; the relationship these kids have with their guns is simply a unique window through which the filmmakers have chosen to show us the rich inner lives of the protagonists. They could have used a dysfunctional family (Festen), or movie musicals (Dancer In The Dark) or a tolling church bell (Breaking The Waves) to show us that world - but in this case it's guns.
Within the limits of the film medium - 10,000 words of dialog and around 140,000 frames of film - the choices of the filmmaker often revolve about what to leave OUT rather than what to put IN. This is a film that could be used as a textbook for economists. The script is tight - not a word out of place, although the narration feels conversational and casual. A film about child misfits and their guns could easily follow thematic red herrings all over the place in pursuit of social commentary, but "Dear Wendy" is utterly restrained - in spite of the "loaded" subject matter. On the cutting room floor are social commentary, cliché, and many of the cinematic crutches which Trier and Vinterberg rejected in their Dogme 95 days.
Any film lover who cares to see a film utterly committed to its premise, a film made with economy and efficiency, a film full of sweet irony, a film of deceptive simplicity, would do well to check out "Dear Wendy."
This is my favorite kind of movie; it begins with a "what if..." premise, which the storytellers follow with relentless commitment. In this case, the premise is "what if some misfit kids fell in love with their guns." Well, they'd give them names, they'd practice shooting and have a secret clubhouse, they'd study the famous gun-toting heroes of old, and the relationship they have with their weapons would become a mirror for their relationships with the world. All of which are pursued beautifully in the film.
Quite a few American movie critics read this film as a critique of American society, and they resent a European making a film about small-town America. An oft-vented complaint is that Trier has no business criticizing a country which he's never actually visited. I don't think, however, that this is ultimately a film about guns; the relationship these kids have with their guns is simply a unique window through which the filmmakers have chosen to show us the rich inner lives of the protagonists. They could have used a dysfunctional family (Festen), or movie musicals (Dancer In The Dark) or a tolling church bell (Breaking The Waves) to show us that world - but in this case it's guns.
Within the limits of the film medium - 10,000 words of dialog and around 140,000 frames of film - the choices of the filmmaker often revolve about what to leave OUT rather than what to put IN. This is a film that could be used as a textbook for economists. The script is tight - not a word out of place, although the narration feels conversational and casual. A film about child misfits and their guns could easily follow thematic red herrings all over the place in pursuit of social commentary, but "Dear Wendy" is utterly restrained - in spite of the "loaded" subject matter. On the cutting room floor are social commentary, cliché, and many of the cinematic crutches which Trier and Vinterberg rejected in their Dogme 95 days.
Any film lover who cares to see a film utterly committed to its premise, a film made with economy and efficiency, a film full of sweet irony, a film of deceptive simplicity, would do well to check out "Dear Wendy."