Copenhagen Cowboy may be one of the most plodding shows ever put on Netflix, but as per usual for Nicolas Winding Refn (presenting his first Danish-speaking project since the Pusher films), there are both mystical and purely visual aspects to keep you transfixed.
As I noted in my review of Too Old to Die Young, this is not a director who simply points the lights and cameras at the actors and hits "record". This is a director who knows how to make a significant prop glow red in an otherwise purple frame; one who plans his outdoor shots so that the twilight has just the right shade and intensity; one who knows how to frame his actors so that the kaleidoscopic city behind them seems both dead and alive at the same time... Even among other directors who fancy neon-drenched '80s nostalgia and Neo-noir ambiance, Refn sticks out as an especially deliberate filmmaker.
What makes Copenhagen Cowboy particularly interesting is that it plays like an atonement for the directors' past machismo narratives (unintentionally or not, his various Gosling characters have become "Sigma Male" icons) and lack of female representation. Doubly fascinating is the lead herself, Angela Bundalovic as the mysterious and possibly undead Miu, who Jasper Rees (writing for The Telegraph) described as "an unsexualized androgyne exuding an enigmatic potency", and that, at every other turn, the camera seems to be trying to gaze into her soul -- to figure out just who or what she is.
His reading is that she may be a vampire, a sprite, or some sort of angel that (as she moves through the criminal underworld of Denmark, starting in a sex-slave den and ending up amongst corrupt lawyers and chauvinist millionaires) has been sent to avenge the female sex. He describes her enemies: "a Serbian pimp, a Chinese crime boss, a Danish lord of the manor who preaches the primal power of the cock to his murderous son."
I agree that Copenhagen Cowboy has a lot to chew on in terms of themes, even if the show as such can be a slog to watch. The boredom is, of course, alleviated by the visuals and music (and sometimes the humor, particularly when Refn himself appears and when Zlatko Buric converses with a celebrity guest I won't unveil here), but I understand if some viewers won't think it's worth it.
As for my more local -- Scandinavian -- papers, it seems Refn's return to the Nordic region isn't cause for too much celebration; verdicts have ranged from "sluggish as syrup" to complaints that it's nightmarish, nasty, brutal, and whatever else. One blogger wrote, "I don't think I've ever seen so many horrible people of so many different genders and cultural backgrounds doing horrible things". Of course, to me, that's rather like complaining that there are cars in the Fast and the Furious films.
There is one thing about Copenhagen Cowboy that unnerves me more than anything else, however, and it has to do with the pigs that keep appearing throughout the show. It's not that I have trouble figuring out the meaning of said hogs; what it is they either symbolize or poke fun at. Instead, my issue is this:
A few years ago, I decided to use the GTA V "Director Mode" to create a short film in the style of Nicolas Winding Refn (complete with synth-heavy music from Drive, Only God Forgives, The Neon Demon, and his The Wicked Die Young album). It was named Butcher vs. Pig-Man and told the story of a pig who escaped from its farm and -- since "animals are people too" -- grew up into a vengeful pig-man, played by one of the player characters in a pig mask and speaking entirely in pig noises.
And now, here's Nicolas Winding Refn, making a show that heavily features pigs and, yes, a pervy guy who speaks in pig squeals. I'm not saying Refn has seen my video (hardly anyone has), but this is a weirdly specific coincidence. I might've considered asking for royalties if the video wasn't full of unoriginal sh-t anyway.
