Venice 2022: Copenhagen Cowboy
VENICE / NETFLIXToo Old to Die Young was nothing short of a miracle: a 13-hour Amazon Prime art house crime thriller by Danish filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn, as self-indulgent as a mini-series can be. It was definitely an oddity back in 2019, to the point that, for many fans of Refn and auteur-driven television, it was seen as the last of its kind, as streaming services moved towards financing more and more commercially viable “content” (an ugly term that has entered the industry lexicon). Given that the Miles Teller starring epic was far from successful, it comes as a pleasant surprise that Netflix, of all places, agreed to finance Refn’s latest foray into serialized storytelling.
Copenhagen Cowboy was born as a side project during the pandemic, while Refn had put other American productions on hold. This is the first time he has worked in his native country since 2009’s Valhalla Rising, and he takes full advantage of its setting: the titular city and its neighboring lands are straight out of a dark fairy tale, where the streets are empty, forests are shrouded in mist, and only criminals seem to populate it. It is a NWR show through and through, and his attempt at making a superhero story: Miu (Angela Bundalovic) is a “lucky coin” to those she stays with, her power turning miraculous over time, and also quite capable at defending herself with martial arts.
Miu (whose name was explicitly taken from Prada’s Miu Miu subsidiary) and Copenhagen Cowboy as a whole work as a female-centric thematic trilogy for Refn that started in 2016. The Neon Demon was about a girl literally being eaten alive by competitive models in the LA fashion industry, while Too Old to Die Young saw two women stand tall in an oddly empowering final episode that reinforces the supremacy of mothers in a male-dominated world. Copenhagen Cowboy brings this further, with Miu being another lonesome, quiet protagonist, but not sexualized at all, powerful and confident, and, most importantly, with agency, love, and compassion to help those in need. Refn really loves women, as his wife and long-time producer Liv Corfixen stated in the press conference, and now he is given them the power to fight back the patriarchy. Bundalovic is a revelation in this role, as she uses her dance background to fully control all of her movements, as well as delivering exciting and impressive choreography in the surprisingly frequent fight scenes.
Slow pacing has been an essential part of the Danish director’s style for over a decade. Whilst Copenhagen Cowboy moves at a snail’s pace when compared to Stranger Things or other Netflix productions, it is a roller-coaster ride if put side by side with Too Old to Die Young: over the span of its six episodes, there is a relatively clear, linear story as viewers follow Miu’s journey from a peculiar Serbian brothel to working as a drug mule for Danish delinquents. Detours are few and far between, and the atmosphere is expectedly serious with occasional moments of trademark humor, whether it is a man who only squeals like a pig or a rich aristocrat that treats his genitalia as his most precious asset. It is so bizarre and fun at the same time, with Refn in full playful mode as he keeps subverting expectations with the places the story goes to.
Copenhagen Cowboy is not as richly layered as his longer Amazon Prime show, but it is way more fun and entertaining. Full of thrills, action, neon lighting, and booming electronic music; it is alienating for viewers that still only know Refn as “the director of Drive”, but anyone that appreciated his output over the 2010s will have a blast with this 5-hour show. It is surprising to see the ending build to a proper cliffhanger, setting up a potential second season that deserves to exist more than other cash-grab productions from Netflix. With this and The Kingdom: Exodus coming out this year, there is hope for a return of auteurs helming TV shows, making art rather than content, challenging viewers. Not to, quoting Refn, “make fast food”.