Whatever you’re looking forward to seeing from Netflix’s Nicolas Winding Refn series, Copenhagen Cowboy might have.
All his usual hallmarks are present and illustrated: saturated neon and Cliff Martinez scores; strong, silent protagonists and a sleazy criminal underworld; a fascination with violence (sometimes will turn) sexuality; the dreamlike beats capture the atmosphere better than the storytelling. There’s an underground fight club, because of course there is, and a sex trafficking ring, because of course there is, and supernatural contacts, because why not.
Bottom line NWR is at his NWR-iest.
Thursday, January 5th (Netflix)2022
Throwing: Angela Bundalovic, Li Li Zhang, Jason Hendril-Forssell, Andreas Lykke Jørgensen, Lola Corfixen, Zlatko Buric creator: Nicolas Winding Refn
In short, this is Refn-y at its most indulgent. If you’re a fan like I am, this seems like good news; it’s some of the most gorgeous work he’s ever delivered, and it could fill a TV series. However, it also leaves a painful feeling that Refn may have perfected his style too perfectly. In Copenhagen Cowboy, at least, it’s unclear if there’s a new place to take it.
So it’s back and we step into the criminal underworld, this time through Miu (Angela Bundalovic), her A vaguely defined ability to bring “luck” makes her a hot commodity for some, but a dire threat to others. Copenhagen Cowboy’s narration (written by Refn, Sara Isabella Jønsson Vedde, Johanne Algren, Mona Masri and directed entirely by Refn) fits naturally into the segmented structure of television. Over the six-hour episode, Miu drifts from an Albanian gangster-run brothel to a restaurant serving as a front for Chinese thugs; encounters killers, drug dealers and sadistic families; Take revenge while searching for answers about her own origins.
Aloof Miu’s spiritual resemblance to other Refn characters is obvious rather than a coincidence. The filmmaker himself describes her as an avenging angel played by Ryan Gosling The character’s
“Female Evolution” is in Drive, Vithaya Pansringharm in Only God Forgives, Mads Mikkelsen in Rise of Valhalla . Bundalovic donned the cape neatly, imbuing Miu’s calm with an almost otherworldly confidence. But what really sets Miu apart is her looks — petite and sporty, with a bowl cut top. In a world full of stereotypically feminine women (by their sexuality, motherhood or occasionally, Oedipus, both) and stereotypically masculine men (brutal or bloodthirsty, by their power over others or lack thereof) Driven by power) universe, Miu’s androgynous, almost child-like frame stands as a glaring anomaly.
With her strange talents, mysterious past and unchanging costumes, Miu has become a kind of artistic superhero. But the project feels less like a well-planned Marvel blockbuster and more like some half-forgotten fairy tale. Its universe and the rules that guide it are depicted with broad, dreamlike strokes of logic, while its metaphors are sometimes lurid and straightforward. It never occurred to us to explain where Miu’s powers came from, or what exactly she had—or, for that matter, whether she meant it when she described herself as an alien. But we do meet a rapist who not only looks like a pig but uses squeals and snorts instead of human conversation, and an elite vampire resurrected by eating human flesh.
To enjoy Copenhagen Cowboy
is to watch the show in its mystical way, without straight answers or traditional Stimulate. For several minutes the camera looks at a piece of wallpaper, or pans slowly 09 around the room, or hovers over a long enough Viewers can’t help but appreciate the crude symbolism contained in his work. When it works, it often does, and it’s mesmerizing – a testament to the inherent power of imagery to narrative. If not, it can be maddening. Near the end of the finale, there was a scene that grossly miscalculated the audience’s patience for circling the forest with just a few minutes left in the season.
In the end, it doesn’t really wrap up much – the way the story ends, it’s clear that the six chapters were planned as part of a multi-season arc, If the Netflix gods feel generous. But I don’t think the openness fully explains the slight disappointment left after the first season. All the time, the Copenhagen Cowboys
offer a lot of fun: the coolness of a taciturn hero, the romance of a heartbroken gangster character, the wicked thrill of impending violence, a The beauty of a particularly vibrant cobalt shade. Taken together, though, they constitute a selection of Refn’s early work rather than a single statement. It might be time for its creator to borrow a page from his protagonist and venture out of his comfort zone for a newer, deeper experience.