BROTHERS (Brødre) (Susanne Bier, Denmark, 2005, 110m.). SPOILER ALERT! THEMES: SURVIVOR GUILT; PTSD; CHANGES IN FAMILY DYNAMICS RELATED TO WAR. Among all military combatants who suffer psychologically from war-related trauma, those who suffer worst are the ones who survive while their closest buddies died, and those who perpetrate gratuitous violence, acts such as torture, killings unrelated to armed engagement with the enemy, and other desperate acts of self preservation. Susanne Bier’s new film explores this theme in possibly the most poignant manner I have seen on the screen, and that’s not all. She also shows us the severe upheavals wrought within a family, when a loved one, a soldier - first thought to be dead in action but later discovered alive - returns home, forever changed by his experiences.
Michael (Ulrich Thomsen) leads a squad of Danish soldiers deployed to peacekeeping efforts in post-war Afghanistan, leaving behind his wife Sarah (Connie Nielsen, whose beauty runs glowingly deep); two young daughters (played with astonishing realism by Sarah Juel Werner and Rebecca Løgstrup); his misfit kid brother Jannik (Nikolaj Lie Kaas), recently released from prison after robbing a bank and assaulting a female employee, causing her to suffer PTSD symptoms for years afterward; and his parents. Almost immediately, his squad is sent out by helicopter to rescue a lost soldier and is shot down, plummeting into a lake. All aboard are assumed to have died. The family are informed and become absorbed in terrible grief. A funeral is held. Time passes.
These circumstances have a transformative effect on Jannik, moved by the loss of his brother to change his ways, especially by offering aid and comfort to Sarah and his nieces. The relationship is honorably conducted, though Sarah and Jannik have passing moments marked by hugs, and just once by a kiss.
Michael (Ulrich Thomsen) leads a squad of Danish soldiers deployed to peacekeeping efforts in post-war Afghanistan, leaving behind his wife Sarah (Connie Nielsen, whose beauty runs glowingly deep); two young daughters (played with astonishing realism by Sarah Juel Werner and Rebecca Løgstrup); his misfit kid brother Jannik (Nikolaj Lie Kaas), recently released from prison after robbing a bank and assaulting a female employee, causing her to suffer PTSD symptoms for years afterward; and his parents. Almost immediately, his squad is sent out by helicopter to rescue a lost soldier and is shot down, plummeting into a lake. All aboard are assumed to have died. The family are informed and become absorbed in terrible grief. A funeral is held. Time passes.
These circumstances have a transformative effect on Jannik, moved by the loss of his brother to change his ways, especially by offering aid and comfort to Sarah and his nieces. The relationship is honorably conducted, though Sarah and Jannik have passing moments marked by hugs, and just once by a kiss.
.
Meanwhile, we learn that Michael in fact was the lone survivor of the crash, and hardly scratched at that. He is seized by guerilla warriors and placed in a crude cell, where he discovers the lost soldier, also held captive. Time passes. Michael witnesses another captured soldier’s execution. And then one day he is confronted with the need to make a horrifying choice to save himself. Regarding the outcome of this colossal moral dilemma, I will only say here that when the camp is subsequently liberated by friendly forces, Michael is the only survivor to be rescued and returns home. He tells no one what happened during his captivity.
But Michael is a shaken, changed man. He is out of sorts: morose, irritable, unaffectionate, suspicious and jealous toward Jannik, who has obviously done so much to aid Sarah. Matters only worsen, until Michael smashes up the kitchen that Jannik had finished for Sarah and threatens to kill her and the girls one night in a drunken rage. For this plus menacing the police who respond, he is imprisoned. At the end, Sarah visits Michael and tells him she will never see him again unless he tells her what happened to him in Afghanistan. He curls up in her lap and begins to cry in the film’s final scene.
Meanwhile, we learn that Michael in fact was the lone survivor of the crash, and hardly scratched at that. He is seized by guerilla warriors and placed in a crude cell, where he discovers the lost soldier, also held captive. Time passes. Michael witnesses another captured soldier’s execution. And then one day he is confronted with the need to make a horrifying choice to save himself. Regarding the outcome of this colossal moral dilemma, I will only say here that when the camp is subsequently liberated by friendly forces, Michael is the only survivor to be rescued and returns home. He tells no one what happened during his captivity.
But Michael is a shaken, changed man. He is out of sorts: morose, irritable, unaffectionate, suspicious and jealous toward Jannik, who has obviously done so much to aid Sarah. Matters only worsen, until Michael smashes up the kitchen that Jannik had finished for Sarah and threatens to kill her and the girls one night in a drunken rage. For this plus menacing the police who respond, he is imprisoned. At the end, Sarah visits Michael and tells him she will never see him again unless he tells her what happened to him in Afghanistan. He curls up in her lap and begins to cry in the film’s final scene.
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This film is rich in several ways. The role shifts between the brothers are carefully constructed and played out, blacksheep Jannik emerging as the considerate, reliable one, while Michael moves in precisely the opposite direction. The acting, especially the contributions of Ms. Nielsen and the two child actors. The photography emphasizes close-ups of the players, sometimes only an eye that nearly fills the screen, aiding one’s sense of the interiority of their feelings. Ironic tension is skillfully built up while Michael is in Afghanistan by alternating scenes of him with scenes of the grieving family back home. The occasional long shots – gorgeous Afghan sunsets behind distant mountains juxtaposed with shots of Michael in his grim cell; the oily water surface where his helicopter crashed - are powerful.
This film is rich in several ways. The role shifts between the brothers are carefully constructed and played out, blacksheep Jannik emerging as the considerate, reliable one, while Michael moves in precisely the opposite direction. The acting, especially the contributions of Ms. Nielsen and the two child actors. The photography emphasizes close-ups of the players, sometimes only an eye that nearly fills the screen, aiding one’s sense of the interiority of their feelings. Ironic tension is skillfully built up while Michael is in Afghanistan by alternating scenes of him with scenes of the grieving family back home. The occasional long shots – gorgeous Afghan sunsets behind distant mountains juxtaposed with shots of Michael in his grim cell; the oily water surface where his helicopter crashed - are powerful.
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The theme of PTSD (for Michael and for the woman attacked by Jannik, whom we never see) and manifestations of Michael’s survivor guilt are depicted here with impeccable clinical validity. About the woman, we learn that she has had nightmares and insomnia for three years since the attack, and that she is constantly obsessed with fears that Jannik will return to kill her. Michael’s demeanor is excruciatingly similar to many Vietnam veterans, who could not discuss their war experiences, seemed alienated and unable to assimilate, drank too much or used drugs to numb their psychic pain, and all too often were seized with rage that broke apart their families.
The theme of PTSD (for Michael and for the woman attacked by Jannik, whom we never see) and manifestations of Michael’s survivor guilt are depicted here with impeccable clinical validity. About the woman, we learn that she has had nightmares and insomnia for three years since the attack, and that she is constantly obsessed with fears that Jannik will return to kill her. Michael’s demeanor is excruciatingly similar to many Vietnam veterans, who could not discuss their war experiences, seemed alienated and unable to assimilate, drank too much or used drugs to numb their psychic pain, and all too often were seized with rage that broke apart their families.
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Such circumstances created a significant source of recurring domestic violence in this country in the 1970s and 80s, when spouses kept coming back despite their war-traumatized husbands’ episodic violence toward them. In this film, Sarah does the right thing at the end by refusing to rejoin her husband until he can somehow sort out the effects of what he did in Afghanistan.This film, like Bier’s 2002 film Open Hearts, another story of suffering and changed relationships in the wake of trauma, is gutwrenching, not a film for everyone, certainly, but one that any professional who works with trauma survivors should see. Grade: B (In Danish) (07/05)
Such circumstances created a significant source of recurring domestic violence in this country in the 1970s and 80s, when spouses kept coming back despite their war-traumatized husbands’ episodic violence toward them. In this film, Sarah does the right thing at the end by refusing to rejoin her husband until he can somehow sort out the effects of what he did in Afghanistan.This film, like Bier’s 2002 film Open Hearts, another story of suffering and changed relationships in the wake of trauma, is gutwrenching, not a film for everyone, certainly, but one that any professional who works with trauma survivors should see. Grade: B (In Danish) (07/05)
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