Since the Hidden Treasures articles which I've been writing have all looked at three individual films, this week's article will look at three films which are connected to one another: the Pusher trilogy, from Danish filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn, whose recent films Drive and Only God Forgives have brought him mainstream attention.
PUSHER (1996)
It was initially conceived as a ten-minute short film, and you can imagine how it might work as one. What's most impressive about Pusher, the film which launched not only a trilogy but a career for Nicolas Winding Refn, is how well it works running over an hour and a half. Frank is a Copenhagen drug pusher, not a nasty guy but involved in a nasty business indeed. It's not the sort of business wherein you've got much protection should something go wrong. And something goes wrong for Frank, leaving him in considerable debt to Milo, a fearsome (and fearsomely genial) drug lord. A straightforward premise - in fact, a well-worn premise - and a straightforward route from first to last, following Frank through the streets of Copenhagen. The hook is in Winding Refn's filmmaking: the grit and the grittiness, against the riveting tension and the threat generated by Zlakto Buric as Milo, one of the most memorable characters of '90s cinema. Such is the vivid, hard-edged appeal of this low-budget but artistically rich cult film, that it not only inspired two sequels, but two remakes in the 17 years since its release.
You know what's coming after the cut!
Pusher II was not the first thing on Winding Refn's mind in 1996. Another two films, Bleeder and Fear X (starring John Turturro) didn't bring him the same level of success which he had experienced with Pusher, and he was forced to make two sequels to his breakout hit in order to keep his production company afloat. So, if Pusher II is what its parent might deem an accident, it's an extremely happy accident. Rather than form a direct sequel to Pusher, this film shifts away from its predecessor in adopting a new protagonist, Mads Mikkelsen's Tonny, who appeared in the first film as the loose cannon best friend of Kim Bodnia's Frank. Tonny's life has revolved around crime for years, but, upon release from prison, he sets about straightening things out. But like mixes with like in the real world, and the Pusher trilogy is set nowhere else; all of Tonny's friends and acquaintances are as bent as he is, and he finds his conscience battling with actions he is compelled to make, either by instinct or by pressure. With Blood on My Hands starts hard and increases in intensity with each scene, with Tonny's troubles ever amassing, and Mikkelsen's performance ever more and more high-strung. The trick up Winding Refn's sleeve is the film's emotional hit, as, unlike Pusher, it doesn't so much get tenser as it progresses than sadder, and more desperate, more suffocating. Many people cite The Godfather Part II or The Dark Knight as the greatest film sequels of all time. For me, Pusher II is undoubtedly right up there.
If Nicolas Winding Refn relied on Pusher II to make back the money he'd lost on Fear X, he may have sunk into that arthouse groove with Pusher III, which is probably his least commercial film to date. Zlatko Buric is back as Milo, the only actor to appear in all three films, and this time, he's the lead. He's planning his daughter's birthday party, making half-arsed appearances at NA meetings, and organising a drug deal in a business that has moved in new directions, away from him. And now it's his turn to have to face what happens when events don't go to plan. For Milo, it's not a situation in which he feels especially well-practised, but he puts his old-school techniques of problem-solving to effective, and startling use. Pusher III is a less breathless film than the other two Pusher installments, but no less airless, with its narrow focus on an often hapless or unpleasant man, and the dejection that hangs over these characters, stuck in lifestyles which bring them minimal comfort or joy, and in which even one's closest friends are frequently also one's closest enemies. A slower, more contemplative film than Pusher and Pusher II, this is a film with some space in which to recover from its more gruelling moments, if no space in which to relax. A tough, but magnetic film with little potential for widespread audience appreciation, but with very much potential for concentrated cineaste appreciation.
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