Submarino

Initially I thought that not giving one of these siblings a name might have been more of a gimmick, but as we progress through this distressing story of his life with brother "Nick" (Jakob Cedergren) it becomes quite symbolic of the anonymity of the lives of many in a civilised society that turns it's lights out at eleven pm. Our introduction to them is fairly harrowing. Their mother lives in a permanent alcoholic stupour which leaves them, still in their early teens, to look after their baby brother. Unsurprisingly, that goes wrong resulting in a bedrock of trauma for both as they go their separate but not entirely indistinct ways. We begin with the adventures of the recently incarcerated "Nick". He is rudderless and has a bit of a drink problem, but as he quite literally stumbles over his old friend "Ivan" (Morten Rose) we realise that he isn't an evil man, just one who is emotionally lost. His sibling (Peter Plaugborg) isn't doing that much better. He has a drug habit which despite his adoration for his young son "Martin" (Gustav Fischer Kjærulff), he simply cannot kick. Indeed, when things become really desperate he decides to listen to an old junkie and set up a distribution network of his own. Lucrative? Well it might be for a short while, but there is always someone prepared to do some snitching to the cops. There is something touching about the scenes with Plaugborg and the entirely natural young Kjæerulff and they also illustrate clearly just how addiction can take over a life, even when there are other things - better things - for a man to live for. This isn't a man wanting to deal drugs for the sake of it; he wants to make his lad's life better, but without realising that's at best a short-term and truly hollow solution. Neither character has any real sense of an anchor in their lives, they never have had and that is also well demonstrated by a Cedergren whose place in the film takes up less screen time, but whose activities are no less poignant as we all...