Around 1998 I came across Nicolas Winding Refn's Pusher on a Canadian cable channel notorious for subversive programming. Low budget, gritty and authentically seedy, Pusher became an instant favorite but over time, Refn fell off my radar, as did his Pusher sequels in 2004 and 2005. A few days ago someone left a comment on my 20 Greatest Female Performances post, telling me to check out Anne Sørensen's work in Pusher II. So I did.
Since I first saw him in Pusher, Mads Mikkelsen has never disappointed me. Thanks to his role in Casino Royale as Le Chiffre, Mads is on America's radar, but the character he should be known for is Tonny. Conditioned to expect very little from sequels, both Pusher II and III defied the norm, but because of Mads, Pusher II gets my vote for best of the three.
In Pusher, Tonny was a sidekick, a backstabbing scumbag of one, but despite what little there was to like, Mads made Tonny unforgettable. Pusher II begins with Tonny's last few days in prison and it establishes how Tonny isn't really the thug he's been pretending to be. As the rest of the story unfolds we see Tonny's painful realization that everyone around him (including friends and family) don't care about him. When Tonny accepts that he's fathered a little boy, something inside of him changes; he sees who he's become, why's he's become this person and how worthless this existence is. Tonny realizes this fruitless charade is over and, for once, he makes a decision to reset his and his baby boy's fate. As impetuous and rash as his final it act is, it sums up what it is Tonny has always wanted but never had: to be loved.
Tonny's metamorphosis is subtle and believable, credit to Mads' breakthrough performance and Refn's air-tight, realistic writing. In Pusher, Tonny is essentially De Niro's Johnny Boy in Mean Streets, and if Scorsese had ever made a prequel of Johnny's life, it would have been a treat to see De Niro (in his prime) bring to life the real Johnny Boy. Tonny was essentially a throwaway character and it is a treat to watch Mads and Refn put this fascinating throwaway under the microscope. By doing so, we get a rare glimpse into 'how' someone actually becomes a throwaway and that these insignificant pawns in the drug trade are often products of a horrible environment, one they've been abused by since birth.
The entire Pusher Trilogy is one graced by fascinating characters, each tragically doomed in their own unique way. These aren't people you expect to see as protagonists: they're life-long criminals, guilty of horrible deeds, and in the eyes of society, are better off dead or in jail. But Refn's fascination with the underbelly delivers something you wouldn't dream of feeling for these thugs: empathy. The reason you empathize with Frank, Tonny and Milo, is because they have the same simple needs we all do. These are people who do what they do because they know no better, but that ultimately they want better. Few movies about criminals manage to make the ugliness of the underworld so convincing and graphic, and even fewer manage to make this world human by showing how lonely and loveless this world truly is. The Pusher Trilogy succeeds where many others have failed.
Since I first saw him in Pusher, Mads Mikkelsen has never disappointed me. Thanks to his role in Casino Royale as Le Chiffre, Mads is on America's radar, but the character he should be known for is Tonny. Conditioned to expect very little from sequels, both Pusher II and III defied the norm, but because of Mads, Pusher II gets my vote for best of the three.
In Pusher, Tonny was a sidekick, a backstabbing scumbag of one, but despite what little there was to like, Mads made Tonny unforgettable. Pusher II begins with Tonny's last few days in prison and it establishes how Tonny isn't really the thug he's been pretending to be. As the rest of the story unfolds we see Tonny's painful realization that everyone around him (including friends and family) don't care about him. When Tonny accepts that he's fathered a little boy, something inside of him changes; he sees who he's become, why's he's become this person and how worthless this existence is. Tonny realizes this fruitless charade is over and, for once, he makes a decision to reset his and his baby boy's fate. As impetuous and rash as his final it act is, it sums up what it is Tonny has always wanted but never had: to be loved.
Tonny's metamorphosis is subtle and believable, credit to Mads' breakthrough performance and Refn's air-tight, realistic writing. In Pusher, Tonny is essentially De Niro's Johnny Boy in Mean Streets, and if Scorsese had ever made a prequel of Johnny's life, it would have been a treat to see De Niro (in his prime) bring to life the real Johnny Boy. Tonny was essentially a throwaway character and it is a treat to watch Mads and Refn put this fascinating throwaway under the microscope. By doing so, we get a rare glimpse into 'how' someone actually becomes a throwaway and that these insignificant pawns in the drug trade are often products of a horrible environment, one they've been abused by since birth.
The entire Pusher Trilogy is one graced by fascinating characters, each tragically doomed in their own unique way. These aren't people you expect to see as protagonists: they're life-long criminals, guilty of horrible deeds, and in the eyes of society, are better off dead or in jail. But Refn's fascination with the underbelly delivers something you wouldn't dream of feeling for these thugs: empathy. The reason you empathize with Frank, Tonny and Milo, is because they have the same simple needs we all do. These are people who do what they do because they know no better, but that ultimately they want better. Few movies about criminals manage to make the ugliness of the underworld so convincing and graphic, and even fewer manage to make this world human by showing how lonely and loveless this world truly is. The Pusher Trilogy succeeds where many others have failed.
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