I didn’t like Druk (Another Round) as much as I hoped, but it’s an insightful anthropological view on the western ironic need for numbness to feel joy, for inebriation to fuel identity, to feel highs to bring one back to youth and romance once stuck in a plateaued existence. Vinterberg is not afraid to recognize the positive aspects of drinking, an invaluable disinhibition which grants doses of transient serenity, reprieve from boredom and apathy. He’s also not afraid to twist the knife in the realization that there is no cure to the disease of maturity, as alcoholism becomes an allegory for the consequences of trying to have your cake and eat it too in life. The narrative moves like adult development, igniting a light comedy that slips into a tragedy when trying to keep up with the same tempo, and whether or not Vinterberg and Lindholm think we can renew the cycle so easily is for viewers to find out.therewillbeblus wrote: ↑Wed Jun 03, 2020 3:11 pmThomas Vinterberg's Druk sounds fascinating (an opinion which will surprise no one if you look it up). It could easily be deeply offensive and problematic for me, but if pulled off right the possibilities are endless. Hopefully it's as bold as it sounds (and with Vinterberg at the helm, I'm optimistic).
In a straightforward manner, the film follows the self-medication hypothesis of addiction where one drinks to cope with dysphoria rather than to achieve euphoria- and yet it sneakily dares to show the colorful soup of the ride rather than an alcoholic’s hindsight reflection in black and white terms. In an even bolder way, this film demands that we acknowledge that “moderation” is not a word in our vocabulary, and that there is no such thing as a static comfort zone. The word “more” is always the answer to discomfort, reflecting our inability to accept our current state, moving the goal post to account for our sensitivity to staying in place- because that would mean a comfort with ourselves as we are. Here, the notion of ‘tolerance’ in needing to drink more to get the same effect takes on ripples of meaning for unmanageability in our lives, stemming from a refusal to tolerate our lives without a tangible variable to chase for a cure.
This film speaks an unsettling truth about western male identity that few films manage to, all tied up in a neat formulaic dramedy with about the level of didacticism one might expect, though outside of the obvious content we can read between the lines as his exciting lectures quickly transform into talks around his obsessive activity for selfish reinforcement, and this says something even more alarming about nationalism’s connection to celebrated alcohol consumption. Holding these truths that Mikkelsen may be initially sharper, more fun, and more self-assured, that lowering inhibitions a bit is the best way to access life’s opportunities our anxieties and self-consciousnesses are blind to… right along with the sadness dependent on an external elixir to make him feel stable, and the fact that we cannot take a magical supplement to sustain this persona, makes for a tough cocktail to swallow. If this isn’t a healthy solution, it begs the question: Is there one? Not on our terms. We spend our lives chasing what we need to be 'present' to find.
The film is a bit bloated, a bit too on-the-nose, but it's also a strikingly apt picture of how alcoholism is woven into western culture, and even moreso, "alcoholic thinking" into the psychology of the western folks who don't even drink. Perhaps the most sobering thesis of this film is the notion of 'do-overs', the tragic awareness of our locus of control, and how reality fails to intervene with our wills- or, as a character states late in the film (in a well-placed and perverse example of positive drinking, right before the endpoint of a dire one), how we must come to terms with our own failures to intervene on reality's terms. The film reaches a spiritual place amidst a finale planted in the cultural landscape of a seemingly sleazy scene, a reminder that celebrations can be both repelling and enlightening, and Vinterberg reverts back to the blurry concentrate that makes up most of life after showing polarized extremes. To this extent, the subtle thematic reveal implicates the film's meaty drama as anti-didacticism.