It would seem that 1996 was a good time to be making films in Denmark.  Lars von Trier was at the peak of his career, winning awards and notoriety around the globe and his freshly launched Dogme 95 movement was triggering a wave of raw, do it yourself films from all corners of the earth.  But what if, say, you fell outside the normal von Trier circle?  What if you had no interest in following his Ten Commandments for handheld, unlit character drama?  What if you ached for style and guns and violence and loud music?  What if you were a young Dane largely raised in New York who wanted to play to the masses rather than the arthouse crowd?  If you were Nicholas Winding Refn you made Pusher, the first in what would eventually become a trilogy of—in my not so humble opinion—the very best crime films ever made.

Kim Bodnia plays Frank, a low level drug dealer with dreams of striking it big through a series of covert side deals, set up with the help of his loyal sidekick Tonny—played by a then-totally-unknown Mads Mikkelsen (Casino Royale).  But—and do you really need me to tell you this?—dealing drugs is a high risk business and things fall apart badly for Frank, leaving him not only facing jail time but an angry Serb drug lord, dissatisfied customers and a future filled with unspeakable violence.

What makes the Pusher films something special isn't the style or the raw energy—though it has both in spades—nor the acts of violence—ditto—but the shocking intimacy of the thing.  The characters populating Refn's world are raw and open wounds, every one of them, and the Pusher films succeed—like no others ever have—in digging deep into these very damaged psyches.  As we move through the trilogy, each of them focusing on a different but related character in the Copenhagen underworld, we realize the full scope, complexity and humanity of Refn's project and can only draw the conclusion that by keeping the Pusher films away from the operatic qualities of Coppola's Godfather films Refn ends up with something every bit as epic but far more disturbing because it is far more recognizable, far more resonant.

Guest review by Todd Brown.
Todd Brown is the founder and editor of Twitch, the leading website for international film. Todd also programs for Fantastic Fest, Fantasia, Toronto After Dark, The World Wide Short Film Festival and Canadian Music Week.

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