Riders of Justice, 2020.
Directed by Anders Thomas Jensen.
Starring Mads Mikkelsen, Nikolaj Lie Kaas, Lars Brygmann, Nicolas Bro, Andrea Heick Gadeberg, Jesper Ole Feit Andersen, and Albert Rudbeck Lindhardt.
SYNOPSIS:
A man who has recently lost his wife in a train crash is contacted by a mathematician who doesn’t believe the event was an accident.
Every event that takes place is the product of millions upon millions events preceding it, combining in ways we can’t even comprehend to lead to very precise consequences. If you tried to trace anything back to its original cause, you would be lost. It’s an idea that simultaneously speaks to the incomprehensive chaos of the world we live in, and its ordered, mathematical predictability. In his latest effort, Danish director Anders Thomas Jensen masterfully manipulates this paradox, crafting a poignant story of grief to ground the unexplainable in something totally human.
When Markus’ wife is killed in a train accident, both he and his daughter are devastated by the tragedy, but they aren’t the only ones. Otto, a mathematician who was also on the train and feels more than a little responsible, suspects foul play. With the help of his colleagues, Otto turns clutched straws into a theory worth buying into, and with Markus along for the ride, the quartet set off on a journey of vengeance – or perhaps justice. The acting is superb; Mads Mikkelsen’s bottled up rage is perfectly articulated by the ever excellent performer, whilst Nikolaj Lie Kaas portrays Otto with a crippling amount of built up guilt, and yet supreme reason. Each of these subtly excellent turns are matched by equally loud ones – from Otto’s long suffering college Lennart, played by Lars Brygmann, to the stand-out Nicholas Bro as overweight hacker Emmenthaler. Bro’s comic timing and spot-on delivery create a consistently comical blanket over the group’s actions, skilfully pulling the piece back from darkness at every turn.
Jensen’s previous work has always walked a fine line between genres, particularly the madcap Men & Chicken. Here, the director is unrecognisably focused, with each genre dive – from tragicomic fake therapy, to precise action/thriller set pieces – speaking to the humanity of the characters involved, and their need to overcome individual or shared trauma. Each of the characters is so well built and acted that there is no need really to develop their backstories beyond what can be inferred about them through their reaction to the present situation.
As such, the film’s sole flaw is to waste a little time sharing the previous experiences of the mathematicians, each of whom predictably have something from their past that they are unable to let go. This is particularly true with Lennart, whose fascinating story of abuse is hinted at but never fully probed, perhaps because there simply isn’t time. It’s a theme that feels distracting, and the lack of discussion makes it an uncomfortable addition to an otherwise wonderful piece of writing.
In the end, Riders of Justice isn’t really a revenge flick, and it’s not really about probability, chance or chaos. It’s a film about blame: trying to find a source of a tragedy, because coincidence doesn’t allow for closure; it doesn’t help the grieving answer the question of why something has happened, and why to them. Jensen’s brilliant work shelters Markus and Mathilde’s grief in layers of repressed anger, insecurity and desperation, allowing for the input of both supreme hilarity and dark violence. Few directors could handle such extremes, but Jensen pulls it off with style to spare.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Dan Sareen
Originally published February 3, 2021. Updated February 8, 2021.
