Traditionally, the mention of Scandinavian cinema brought to mind the monolithic body of work of Ingmar Bergman, or perhaps a few other big names. Nowadays, the region’s output is best known for its so-called Nordic noir, characterized by “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” and its sequels, as well as television shows like “The Killing.” Peter Schønau Fog’s sophomore effort “You Disappear”—a Danish/Swedish co-production making its International Premiere at TIFF after bowing in local markets last spring—takes a little bit from column A and a little bit from column B. That is, this domestic psychodrama unspools with a nervous energy and the procedural element surfaces in a court case that lends the film its spine. However, the nonlinear plotting does a major disservice to “You Disappear,” which plays out like a made-for-TV adaptation of Scandinavian paperback you might glance over at an airport bookstore: all flash, no substance.
In a scenario that reads like a particularly dodgy episode of “Law and Order,” “You Disappear” centers on the trial of private school principal Frederik Halling (Nikolaj Lie Kaas) accused of embezzling $12 million Danish krone from the institution that employs him. It isn’t up for debate whether or not the crime was committed; rather, his lawyer Bernard Berman (played by the late Michael Nyqvist in one of his final screen appearances) argues that his client was helpless against an impulse control disorder caused by a benign tumor on his brain. Standing by Frederik’s side is his wife Mia (Trine Dyrholm), who struggles to hold her family together while coping with the fallout from her husband’s illness.
The narrative structure of “You Disappear” is compromised right from the get-go, with the first few sequences introduce key elements—the Halling family, Frederik’s trial, the potential mental illness affecting the patriarch—in a haphazard fashion. The film continues jumping between temporal threads as if by chance, with the lack of purpose to this arrangement only becoming apparent knee-deep into the run time, and after the audience’s patience is long exhausted. The intentional confusing of the sequence of events is meant to provoke the question that drives Nicholas Ray’s classic domestic antecedent, “Bigger Than Life”: what if the tumor is only an excuse to justify Frederik’s discontent all along? It’s a valid thesis and one that becomes increasingly relevant as “You Disappear” progresses, but surely there was a more elegant—or at least entertaining—way to communicate the erosion of the nuclear family.
All three leads are fixtures in the Scandinavian star system and have individually proven themselves capable of carrying films in the past, but “You Disappear” doesn’t give the trio a whole lot to do. Kaas may be the most wasted among the main performers, spending half of the film behind a court bench, sullen. This is arguably the better scenario when his remaining scenes have him capital-A ‘acting’ in volatile outbursts, just in case—God forbid—you forget he’s mentally ill. Erstwhile, as Mia, Dyrholm is reduced to a conflicted wife without any of the edge that makes the heroines of Nordic noir or the genre’s American potboiler counterparts so compelling (even when the material isn’t really up to snuff).
The fourth-act revelation of an unreliable narrator is not only dramatically unnecessary, it also undercuts any momentum that Mia has gained in defining herself apart from her husband. This deception is also predicated on an investment in the voiceover provided by the female lead throughout “You Disappear”. That said, this narration sounds like it was lifted from an introductory psychology textbook, bringing no dramatic heft and offers the false impression that the film has a substantial message to deliver about mental health.
Mikkel Maltha’s score— he’s a Zentropa fixture that composed the music for Lars Von Trier’s “The Boss of It All”— is barely present, occasionally humming along like the quieter moments of a Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross collaboration. If Maltha is going for “Gone Girl” here, then his compositions lack the gnashing teeth to contrast the softness, and ultimately fail to contribute any sonic bite to “You Disappear.” Other tech credits are serviceable, including the cinematography by Laust Trier-Mørk, who has previously contributed to Danish gems “Brotherhood” and “Teddy Bear.” The nonlinear story hops between seasons, managing to squeeze in a few characteristically wintry shots that pair well with the frigid chemistry between the principal characters.
In a year of programming austerity at TIFF, a berth for such a populist, lackluster import as “You Disappear” is a bit of a head-scratcher. Despite assembling a murderer’s row of Scandinavian talent, Fog is unlikely to muster much international enthusiasm for his second feature. Skip the festival lines, you’re better off letting “You Disappear” languish in the Netflix queue. [D+]
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