Ho Lin 
Another Round (2020, Dir. Thomas Vinterberg):
We do a lot of drinking in Denmark, but we talk a lot about health and a reasonable, well-behaved life, so there’s still a gap between our behavior and our wishful thinking about our behavior.
Thomas Vinterberg
Mads Mikkelsen’s mug is, shall we say, unique. At rest, his alien cheekbones and the unnerving steadiness of his gaze speak of coldness and calculation, and Hollywood has gravitated towards using those features in villainous roles: a Bond baddie, a Marvel antagonist, Hannibal Lecter. But check him out in Thomas Vinterberg’s The Hunt (2012), as a man falsely accused of sexual abuse, and you’ll see the façade crack open to reveal layers of confusion, rage and sorrow. Now Vinterberg and Mikkelsen are back with something altogether gentler in the funny, touching Another Round, if similarly unorthodox: a film about the virtues of getting drunk.
To be more specific, Another Round (original title: Druk, or “binge drinking”) concerns drinking, but it’s really about breaking out of middle-age ennui. After an opening montage featuring nubile, jolly high schoolers getting good and soused, we land on the heavy shoulders of Mikkelsen’s Martin, the kids’ history teacher: sleepwalking through life, barely able to talk above a mumble, unable to connect with his students or his wife Anika (Maria Bonnevie). “Have I become boring?” he asks her early on. (Hint: If you have to ask this question, you already know the answer.) Where the stoic mask of Mikkelsen’s face radiates inscrutability in his more conventional roles, here it’s a countenance of stasis, the blankness of a man who can’t even get riled up about his own encroaching obsolescence.
He’s not the only one feeling this way—his pals and colleagues Tommy (Bo Larsen), Peter (Lars Ranthe) and Nikolaj (Peter Magnus Millang) are also preoccupied with age, all of them forced to face the promising, youthful faces of their students every day and reckon with their own shortcomings. One evening over drinks, Nikolaj proposes a radical experiment to break the foursome out of their rut. Having read a theory that humans are at their best when their blood alcohol levels are .05 percent above normal, he cajoles his buddies into topping up their intake, within certain guidelines: no drinking after 8 pm, no drinking on the weekends (“Like Hemingway”). From there it’s a slow descent (or ascent, depending on your point of view) into abandon, with “abandon” being a relative term—this is a Scandinavian movie, after all.
Given this set-up, it would be natural to assume that Another Round becomes a comedy-drama about the dangers of drink, with pratfalls and tragedy galore, and while the contours of such an approach are evident, Vinterberg has something more measured in mind. In contrast to the spiky film that first made his reputation, The Celebration (1998), he eases back on provocation and goes for wry observation, the slight bobs and weaves of his camera emulating our heroes’ slackening hold on equilibrium, even as their general sense of freedom increases. Loosened up by booze, Martin rekindles the fires of his marriage and rediscovers his mojo as a teacher, getting his students to relate to famous historical personages via their copious alcohol intake. (The film’s funniest bit is a video collage of world leaders laboring to stay upright and coherent while on the sauce.) Meanwhile, Tommy finds an extra burst of motivation for coaching his pee-wee soccer team, and music teacher Peter inspires his choral students to “feel” their way back into form. Nikolaj might spout terms like “physiological and psycho-rhetorical effects” as he monitors their progress, but let’s face it: it’s all about feeling good, and for a time, the quartet’s more upbeat, sloshed-up attitudes revive their zest for life, affecting all those around them for the better.
Peter: Are we or are we not alcoholics?
Nikolaj: We’re not alcoholics. We decide when we want to drink. An alcoholic can’t help himself.
Throughout, Vinterberg rides the line of ambiguity: booze has restorative effects on our principals, but it might also be just delaying (or hastening) their inevitable decline. In a particularly piquant episode, Peter helps a panic-stricken student pass his final exams by offering him several swigs of vodka; is he helping the young man discover his confidence, or inaugurating him to a life of addiction? Soon Martin and his friends confront similar questions as their experiments lead to an inevitable crash, with even larger doses of intoxicants (absinthe, anyone?) resulting in harsh consequences. When all the good spirits (in both senses of the word) desert them, they must confront the detritus of their lives: martial acrimony, loneliness, irrelevance, and kids who pee on the bed. But despite these darker currents, Another Round is too amiable to make the comedown a comeuppance. Taking the middle ground, the film points out the upside of kicking back a bit, while acknowledging the danger of going too far. Most of all, it finds its soul in Mikkelsen’s performance, as hope, anger and despair break through that enigmatic façade. Showcasing his physical dexterity (a scene in which he drunkenly navigates his way through a faculty room before banging his face into a wall gets the film’s biggest laugh) as well as hair-trigger bursts of emotion, he keeps things warm and elegant, even during the plot’s more mechanical turns.
In keeping with its even-handed tone, Another Round wraps up with a tragedy and a triumph. If the movie’s conclusion—life must go on, and we must find joy where we can—isn’t earth-shaking, it allows for the chance of regeneration, and a final comingling of students and teachers as they celebrate with suds (because why not?). Mikkelsen takes charge of the moment, letting loose with a jazz-dance number that’s startling in its ferocity and beauty. Neither completely feel-good nor feel-bad, Another Round is an affirmation that accommodates both states of being, with Mikkelsen’s final swan dive the ridiculously right cherry on top. ■
