My heart goes out to Bibi, every wrinkle on her face, and her crazy eyes. Here's the thing about (bougie) fetishism - when it is working, even knowledge of it is not enough to stop its effects. Hence I relent, relinquish, and rejoice in the delights of northern European homogeneity. It's all so patient. And also very funny.
I want the kitchen, with pale blue walls, green glass jugs, beautiful copper saucepans, tiny blue cabinet, unglazed earthenware (the cute little soup pot!). And oh the big jar of cherries, preserved in sugar syrup. I can understand how people who survived on unsalted soup, soaked dry fish and hard bread for decades are terrified of a lavish feast, but it's still get me pissed. Thank God Lorens was there.
I've found it to be a surefire favourite among more than a few blockheads with delusions of cultural literacy (the kind of folks who consider "subtitled movies" to be a genre). This speaks to the film's clarity, sure, but also its simplicity. I'm probably wrong here, but I found nothing about it particularly compelling or unique.
Un filme apasionante a medida que avanza. Esa regresión sobre el historial (romántico) de las hermanas ocultas en un hogar danés aferrado a la fe, es fundamental para poder comprender la madurez de sus personajes. Esas palabras de un jubilado tenor en una carta y un veterano de guerra durante una despedida, emociona, así como la disciplina de la ex cocinera. Hay pasión y dedicación en un artista, y también espíritu.