“The film gets lost at times in its peripheral details, but stands as a fine drama about dealing with life’s unexpected ways, anchored around two excellent performances.”

Life can’t be controlled. That is the essence of Danish director Jeanette Nordahl’s second feature Beginnings (her first feature Wildland also premiered in Berlin). A small family drama about being condemned to one another and the strength of love in situations of great distress, the film is primarily a showcase for the talents of its co-lead Trine Dyrholm and her fellow cast members, but does show a deft hand in how Nordahl handles some of the pivotal moments in the story. Beginnings will not make much of a dent, even in its prime spot in the festival’s second most important section Panorama, but with a short runtime and a finely observed character dynamic and narrative it is small domestic drama done well.

Ane (Dyrholm) and Thomas (David Dencik) have made the decision. Their marriage has been on the rocks for some time now, and it’s time to split up. Thomas already has a new girlfriend that he will move in with. There is only one thing left to do: tell their two daughters, teenager Clara (Bjørk Storm Engelshardt Kirkegaard) and the younger Marie (Luna Fuglsang Svelmøe). Their plans are thwarted though when Ane takes a nasty fall leading to a stroke and becomes partially paralyzed on one side of her body. Suddenly Thomas’ guilt and a care for his daughters forces him to keep the family unit whole for a bit longer and balance this unexpected curveball with his new relationship, as Ane slowly recovers and goes through physical therapy. She is frustrated with not just her broken body not cooperating, but also the dependence on a husband she no longer wants to be with. Yet as both of them get used to the situation and Ane’s recovery seems to be on track, a sense of ease slips back into their relationship. But how long can they keep their decision quiet from their children?

Beginnings‘ story is inspired by Nordahl’s own history and the relationship between her parents, and this closeness is felt in the small details. The opening fight between Ane and Thomas feels realistic in the way it develops out of seemingly nothing and how they snipe at each other with accusations that have a clear history. The actors put in great work here, but a scene like this doesn’t get written without familiarity with such fights. The writing is strongest in moments like these, whereas elsewhere it can feel underdeveloped. Clara as the older daughter senses tension in the relationship between her parents, and her anxiety starts to creep into how she functions outside the family dynamic, in particular her performance as a budding gymnastic talent (Storm is an elite-level gymnast herself). This is initally presented as an important plotline, but gradually falls by the wayside. Similarly, Thomas’ new girlfriend Stine (Johanne Louise Schmidt) hangs in the balance between being an important supporting character and an afterthought. At one point, when Clara has found out her father is involved with another woman, one of Thomas’ co-workers that she is familiar with, she visits Stine and acts out in a juvenile, deeply invasive way, but since Stine is underserved by the screenplay this incident has very few reverberations.

The film fares better when it focuses on the central relationship, with both characters getting enough shading to create full-fledged human beings. Dyrholm and Dencik clearly relish their rich roles, giving very strong performances. Dyrholm shows empathy and frustration, but also her unreasonable behavior prevents the audience from naturally siding with the scorned and debilitated woman here, and the actress knocks it out of the park. Opposite her, Dencik has his character’s own emotions to balance, and even if these emotions are more internalized he manages to create a sympathetic character that really, really tries. The interplay between the two actors in a faltering relationship trying to keep it together is the film’s strongest suit. Storm gets just enough to chew on for quite an impressive debut performance, while Fuglsang Svelmøe as her younger sibling is left out of the most emotional scenes.

Nordahl’s direction is assured and most noteworthy in some of the film’s key moments. An example of this is Ane’s accident, which we hear but do not see, her camera lingering in the hallway Ane was just in before walking towards her fateful fall. Nordahl has the intelligence to let the camera hang but keep giving us the sound, making the scene less dramatic but more powerful, something she repeats when Thomas comes home to find his wife on the floor presumably, because the camera stays put. Touches like these show a keen understanding of tension and a faith in the audience that some seasoned directors could learn from. With a more streamlined screenplay and a tighter focus on the heart of the story Beginnings could have had a greater impact; as it is, the film gets lost at times in its peripheral details, but stands as a fine drama about dealing with life’s unexpected ways, anchored around two excellent performances.

Image copyright: Thomas Howalt Andersen, Danni Riddertoft