(Denmark, 82 min.)
Dir. Daniel Dencik
What makes Danish films so appealing to North
American audiences? The question arose during a conversation with some peers at
the launch for the Canadian Film Institute’s Bright Nights Baltic-Nordic Film
Festival, since Denmark was riding a high on a trio of nominated films—The Act of Killing, The Hunt, and the short Helium—at
this year’s Academy Awards. Add to these three the European Union Film Festival
sell-out Superclásico and it seems as
if the Danes might have a monopoly on the Baltic-Nordic contingent of local
cinephilia. (Although the Swedish films have also been doing rather well.)
There is no easy answer to explain why the Danish filmmakers turn out more hits
than many of their other European contemporaries do, but Moonrider, the Danish
offering at this year’s Bright Nights Baltic-Nordic Film Festival, is bound to
reignite the question following the screening.
Moonrider might seem like the most difficult sell on the festival programme. A documentary shot on Super 8, Moonrider’s experimental edge doesn’t seem as obvious a crowd-pleaser as the light and bubbly Superclásico does. If it seems like a risk to include a film like Moonrider, though, it’s a risk that’s sure to pay off, since audiences who experience it are in store for a film unlike anything they’ve seen before.
Moonrider is an
underdog sports story, the kind that’s been told countless times, but nobody
has ever quite told it like this. This outstanding and visually striking film
has an energy that’s hard to define. Director Daniel Dencik follows up-and-coming
cyclist Rasmus Quaade as he strives to become World Champion and the film chronicles
the athlete’s relentless strive to become a professional doing his one true
passion. Rasmus, however, almost has too much drive to become the best. It’s
this objective gaze, which sees Rasmus both as a source of inspiration and as
a rabbit hole into the mania of professional sports, that sets Moonrider apart from other sports films
as it follows its subject to the finish line.
It seems as if Rasmus will have an easy ride to the podium
when Moonrider begins, for the
cyclist recounts in voiceover his experience of biking so fast through the
streets of his town that he would set off sensors meant to detect speeding
cars. 60 Km/h is the pace at which Rasmus torpedoes through the streets during
his rigorous training regime to realize his dream. Keeping up a pace like
that, the title of World Champion shouldn’t be too far away.
There’s an abrupt shift in the footage, though, as Rasmus
becomes light-headed and dizzy and collapses during training. He pushed himself
too hard. He strove to fulfill his dream beyond his body’s capacity to
achieve it.
Moonrider then
looks at Rasmus anew as he continues to train for the World Championship
knowing the limitations of his body could kill not only his dream, but himself
as well. Like Mickey Rourke in The
Wrestler, though, Rasmus isn’t daunted by a pure love of the sport that
defines him. It’s better to go out doing what he loves than to live forever
knowing that he didn’t try.
It’s fascinating to watch Rasmus from a distance as he
negotiates being the key liability to his goal. Dencik never comments on the
footage captured through the Super 8 and instead lets Rasmus’s ambition speak
for itself. The cyclist appears in voiceover throughout the film, although Moonrider never explicitly features a
direct address or interview with Rasmus. The result, oddly, is a film that
replicates the mindset of its subject. As Moonrider
straps a camera to its helmet and follows the rider throughout the outdoor
competitions and indoor tracks, it situates the viewer behind the handlebars,
letting one feel the rush and energy that fuels Rasmus lap upon lap. (The
cinematography by Dencik and Aske Alexander Foss is worth the price of
admission alone.)
The viewpoint also makes clear how exhausting the trials and
preparations can be. At times dizzying and disorienting, Moonrider makes plain how unhealthy Rasmus’s regime actually is. It’s
something that the cyclist himself acknowledges, saying, “You lead such a
healthy life it can be unhealthy.” With his body as the one thing holding him
back, but training and discipline offering the only way to advance, Moonrider suggests that Rasmus’s
relentless and potentially self-destructive quest to be number one is an
addiction. To pursue life with a death wish is an odd but exhilarating feeling,
and since Dencik lets the viewer experience the race from a cyclist’s
point-of-view, one can feel the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of feeling
alive that fuels Rasmus’s mania.
Rasmus explains how the rush of propelling the bike and the
quest to overcome his limitations is neither a bodily nor an earthly
experience, but rather a spiritual one. He talks about using his bike to shoot
the moon as his passion for cycling lifts him and as his discipline sets
objectives that seem almost too far to overcome. The image of the moon is
interspersed throughout the film as a metaphor for the cyclist’s reach and, as
the film’s synth score propels the film with a retro flair, Moonrider shows the determined rider as
both a visionary and an isolated figure. The approach has one both rooting for
Rasmus and wishing that he would stop.
It’s a sympathetic and engaging character study regardless
of whether one sees Rasmus as crazy or as commendably committed. Moonrider allows the audience to both
get inside the subject’s head and observe him from a distance thanks to Dencik’s
unique approach. The result is a film that straddles the world of documentary,
drama, and experimental cinema alike. Stylistically visionary and dramatically compelling,
Moonrider is a winner.
Rating: ★★★★ (out of ★★★★★)
Moonrider screens at the Bright Nights Baltic-Nordic Film Festival
on Saturday, February 8th at 7:00 pm at Library and Archives Canada
(395 Wellington St.).
Please visit www.cfi-icf.ca for more information on tickets
and show times.