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Far Out Magazine, 2024
The eyes are the window to the soul, yet few actors can articulate a million thoughts without opening their mouths, with their eyes betraying them as they search for the right words. Within the restrictive freedom of the Dogme 95 movement, the directors make full use of their actors talents, elevating the simplistic storytelling methods through all-encompassing and emotionally nuanced performances. Many actors have built careers on their involvement in this movement, with Mads Mikkelsen, Thomas Bo Larsen and Lars Ranthe becoming pioneers of this stripped-back and cynical storytelling style.
However, there is one criminally underrated performance from this movement that deserves more attention, if not for the story itself but for Mikkelsen’s unwavering vulnerability and sadness that is solely expressed through his eyes.
Open Hearts, directed by Susanne Bier in 2002, follows Cecile and Joachim, a newly engaged couple who find their lives upturned when Joachim is involved in a brutal car crash that leaves him disabled. However, the driver’s husband works in the hospital where Joachim is being treated, and he falls madly in love with Cecile, beginning an affair with her while treating her fiancée.
What follows is a devastating tale of desperate longing and delusion as Niels, played by Mikkelsen, tries to keep his affair a secret while being consumed by his infatuation for Cecile. He is completely blinded by his love for her, making drastic decisions that aren’t founded in any kind of reality as he upturns his life for someone who is confused and most likely using his love to avoid her own grief and guilt over her partner’s accident.
The affair results in an intense emotional entanglement between all characters as their lives spiral from routine to chaos, with Niels experiencing some kind of mid-life crisis as he abandons his family and uproots their sense of stability for his own hedonistic pursuit of pleasure and ego boost. Bier shines through the film’s direction, remaining one of the few women directors within the Dogme movement and creating a sense of fluidity within the heart of the rigid manifesto. The inner world of each character is presented in a stripped-back and emotionally raw way, with a grainy look to each frame that heightens the exposed ‘open heart’ of each person, contrasting tenderness and abrasiveness in the performances and aesthetic of the film.
While all of these elements marry together beautifully, what most stands out to me is the brilliantly subdued yet painfully vulnerable performance from Mikkelsen, with the actor optimising every moment of silence through his wounded puppy dog eyes. He simultaneously makes you pity and loathe him, feeling for the violent nature of unexpectedly falling in love and his selfish lack of consideration for his family.
Towards the end of the film, there is a scene as Niels prepares for Cecile to move in with him, moving away from his family and earnestly furnishing his apartment with cheap IKEA furniture to begin their new life together. However, Ceciile is obviously not ready for such a huge change and is still processing the very recent trauma of her fiancée’s abrupt accident, informing Niels that she isn’t ready and cannot be with him. We see his entire fantasy come crashing down as the reality of his mistakes finally dawn on him, quietly breaking apart as he reckons with the disintegration of his family and the damage he has inflicted on everyone around him.
For this and more, it remains one of my favourite performances from Mikkelsen, with a devastating insight into the male ego and destructive nature of desire. Bier remains firmly grounded in both empathy and disdain for what he has done, creating a multifaceted portrait of unreciprocated love, the midlife crisis and the impact of permanent decisions made based on fleeting, far-fetched fantasies.