Rating: 3.5/5
“Beautiful” and ‘poignant’ describe “The Danish Girl” perfectly, yet its delicacy serves as both the film’s strength and weakness. I don’t usually like to read other reviews, but this time, I wanted outside perspective. The more I read about Tom Hooper’s newest film, the more I realized how much sensitivity actually inhibits connection with the protagonist, Lili. Following his tasteful style from “The King’s Speech” (2010) and “Les Miserables” (2012), Hooper keeps “The Danish Girl” pretty and clean; yet, while I appreciate such filmic style, Hooper seems to omit much of what I assume to be a darker reality of being transgender in the early 1900s.
The film, based on the fictional biography written by David Ebershoff, follows Lili Elbe (born Einar Wegener), a painter in 1920s Copenhagen and one of the first people to undergo sexual reassignment surgery. Her identity remains the theme, but the narrative gains its power by focusing on Lili’s marriage with fellow artist, Gerda Wegener (Alicia Vikander). Every frame looks like a Renaissance painting: light grays, soft blues, apartment windows perfectly symmetrical. Like Gerda’s portraits, the film uses soft light throughout to paint actors’ cheekbones, especially Eddie Redmayne’s as Lili. Hardly anything is harsh, and Hooper uses this softness as a motif. For instance, early in the film Lili is shown surrounded by white dresses in a ballet studio before she begins cross-dressing. Some images, though, become too obvious, such as blending reflections of buildings on the surface of water (read: “blurring the lines”). These themes aren’t wrong, but perhaps feel too prescriptive.
Minimalist dialogue also leaves out potential development between Gerda and Lili, especially when they treat drag initially as a game. Like two kids, they sneak into the ballet studio, trying on shoes and dresses to introduce Einar in drag as Lili Eble, Einar’s cousin. The chemistry between Redmayne and Vikander here is spectacular, both in playful and serious scenes. But, after the party ends and he fully embraces Lili as more himself than Einar, Gerda doesn’t know how to react. She tries to talk with her “husband,” as if to force Lili out, but surprisingly never lashes out. Hooper instead treats difficult scenes, such as Lili opening up about seeing other men, with great discretion, once including only one line in a scene before Lili retreats to her room, leaving Gerda crying. These scenes are incredibly poignant and wonderfully performed, but motivations for Lili’s development remain ambiguous. The death of Einar happens rather suddenly, and while we see Lili experiment with trying on Gerda’s nightgown, or donning new dresses, often her experience is mediated through Gerda or their friend, Hans (Matthias Schoenaerts). In essence, Hooper presents a straight person’s view of Lili, rather than positing her own identity. Even in public, Lili observes other women’s behavior to model herself, as if her identify depends solely on mimicking other women’s mannerisms.
The film’s script also leaves out Gerda and Lili’s families. Where are they in this story? Would they approve or disapprove of her reassignment? Although this sounds harsh, 1920s Copenhagen feels far too accepting of Lili’s identity. Doctors call her “lesbian” and “delusional” or “insane,” but overall there isn’t a strong sense of what the public thinks of her. Gerda struggles to understand her new relationship with Lili, as do Hans and Lili’s love interest, Henrik (Ben Whishaw; although, he accepts Lili wholeheartedly), but outside these characters, I expected more negative reactions to Lili. Not to call treating her as if she’s insane as insignificant, but Lili’s friends seem surprisingly open.
The most supportive and loving person to Lili throughout is Gerda. Vikander’s portrayal feels so genuine, particularly in the challenge of reexamining their marriage. Her struggle to accept Lili becomes letting go of Einar, as her husband, and allowing Lili to lead her own life. Gerda’s journey is quite emotional, though at times her story seems to mediate Lili’s experience, questioning Lili’s identity from a straight perspective rather than hearing Lili’s own perspective. It’s not that The Danish Girl shies away from sadness or raw emotion (particularly in several scenes where there is almost no sound to comfort the viewer), but the film just feels as if it lost an opportunity to be more daring.
“The Danish Girl” is playing at Tinseltown at various times daily. Since I will be at the Sundance Festival this week (probably the only time I can ever say that), check back next week for a special review of my festival experience.