DOC NYC ’21: The Mole

If any film could never conceivably have a sequel, Mads Brügger’s The Red Chapel would be it. For starters, Brügger is now banned from entering North Korea after he engineered an embarrassing punking of the regime. However, it inspired Ulrich Larsen, an average Danish fellow, who hatched a scheme to infiltrate the DPRK regime. Naturally, he reached out to Brügger, who documented his real-life espionage in The Mole, which screens as part of this year’s DOC NYC.

In retrospect, Larsen’s plan was simple but sound. He just started attending meetings of Denmark’s North Korean friendship association, making himself helpful. Like the US Communist Party during the Cold War, the higher-ups closely collaborate with the DPRK government. Like a cult, the Korean Friendship Association (KFA) looks for insecure underachievers who can find a sense of purpose serving the royal Kim dynasty.

Enter Alejandro Cao de Benos, the President of the KFA, who takes Larsen under his wing. Eventually, the Spanish government bars him from leaving the country, but he maintains his position of influence within the DPRK regime. He challenges Larsen to reel in a big investor, so Brügger recruits “Mr. James,” a former foreign legionnaire and coke dealer, who became a legit but highly adventurous businessman. Over the course of several years, they travel to North Korea, Cambodia, Uganda, and tellingly Beijing, for a blockbuster deal to produce high-grade missiles and meth in Africa that would also deliver arms to the Syrian regime and import oil into the DPRK, circumventing international sanctions.

Brügger’s expose is absolutely mind-blowing and chilling as heck. While there was “no smoking gun” in Red Chapel, Larsen and Mr. James uncover absolutely damning evidence of official DPRK state criminality, including a literal price list for armaments like SCUD missiles. It is also a genuine white-knuckle thriller, because the tension grows exponentially as the two Moles penetrate deeper into North Korea’s web of intrigue.

Tribeca ’18: The Saint Bernard Syndicate

The underlying business plan has potential. Dogs are definitely a status symbol for China’s privileged elite and growing middle class. Hence, the success of A Dog’s Purpose at the Chinese box office. A darker manifestation of the trend is the rapacious demand for Tibetan mastiffs, as seen in Pema Tseden’s Old Dog. Frederik Jorgensen wants to breed and sell Saint Bernards, starting in the go-go city of Chongqing, but he is profoundly ill-suited to doing business in China. His new Danish investor seems even sillier, but his guileless blundering might be slightly more effective, but only slightly, in madcap documentarian Mads Brügger’s narrative feature debut, The Saint Bernard Syndicate, which screens during the 2018 Tribeca Film Festival.

Even though Rasmus Bruun attended one of Denmark’s most prestigious prep schools, he has worked crummy retail jobs all his adult life. Even though Jorgensen attended the same school, he has squandered his father’s patience with one failed investment scheme after another. When they reconnect at a reunion, Bruun is skeptical of Jorgensen’s pitch, but when he is shockingly diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease), he decides to take a chance and live a little in China. Of course, he does not have the kind of inheritance Jorgensen assumes, but it will not matter if they can quickly line up a Chinese investor. Their ace in the hole will be Dollar, a big slobbering Saint Bernard Jorgensen kidnaps from his father.

Needless to say, the ins and outs of Chinese co-ventures are trickier than Jorgensen assumed. He also resents Bruun’s determination to be an active participate in all stages of the process, especially when potential investors keep assuming he is the primary boss. Yet, when things really get dicey, they will have to rely on each other.

Given Brügger’s track record as a New Journalist provocateur, it is impossible to watch Syndicate and not wonder what it could have been if he had made it as documentary, in the style of The Ambassador, especially since selling Saint Bernard dogs in China should be considerably less dangerous than trying to smuggle diamonds out of the Central African Republic using dodgy diplomatic credentials (but this is Xi-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed Jinping’s China, so maybe you never know for sure).

The attitude is still unmistakable subversive and intended to foster free-thinking. It is safe to say Chinese joint-ventures do not look like such a swell idea after watching Syndicate. You can also see a kinship between the real-life comedy team of Bruun and Jorgensen with Simon Jul Jorgensen and Jacob Nossell, who joined Brügger in North Korea for the propaganda expose Red Chapel, and Frank Hvam and Casper Christensen, the duo responsible for the Klown franchise.

Bruun and Jorgensen adroitly play off each other, developing some intriguingly ambiguous chemistry. Li Boyang is also a charismatic good sport as their loyal Chinese assistant, Beyond. However, Odessa totally steals the show as Dollar, which should come as no surprise.

Brügger vividly captures the big, intimidating nature of Mainland mega-cities. This would be a hard place to be scuffling, especially if you had accrued a lot of bad karma. Just ask Jorgensen. Syndicate is funny and sad in way that are quite perceptive. It is a good, solid film, but fans will really want to see another Mad Mads Brügger docu-provocation. Recommended as the smart, honest work of cinema that it is, The Saint Bernard Syndicate screens again tonight (4/25), as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

The Ambassador: Our Man in the Central African Republic

Ambassadors are generally addressed as “Your Excellency,” which is nice.  They can also carry briefcases loaded with diamonds through customs, no questions asked.  That is even cooler.  It is definitely what mad Mads Brügger had in mind when he set out to buy a diplomatic post.  His resulting misadventures are documented in The Ambassador (trailer here), Brügger’s latest gutsy cinematic provocation, which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

If you have seen Brügger’s Red Chapel (and I really hope you have), you will be familiar with his fearless brand of documentary filmmaking.  The plan this time is to buy an ambassadorship representing Liberia in the Central African Republic (CAR) through a “diplomatic broker.”  (He seeks the services of two such dodgy individuals, one of whom periodically sends me head-scratchingly bizarre e-mails ever since I covered The Ambassador at Sundance.)  Once credentialed, Brügger will establish a match factory as a cover for his unquestionably illegal diamond smuggling operation.  The shocking thing is he pretty much goes about doing exactly that (for expose purposes), but there are complications.

For the record, these are very definitely blood diamonds he is talking about—there just isn’t any other kind in the CAR.  That means the politically connected mine owner Brügger starts negotiating with is a pretty scary character.  Indeed, there are considerable risks for Brügger in this masquerade, including to life and limb.

Frankly, Ambassador would be hilarious if it was a feature narrative, but as a documentary, it is rather staggering.  The wholesale government corruption Brügger captures on film is obviously widespread and pervasive.  While some blame for the country’s lawlessness and desperate poverty is laid at the feet of their former colonial power, the good old French, there is truly no excuse for such dire conditions to exist in a country so richly blessed with mineral resources.  Clearly, something is rotten in the failed state of CAR, and Liberia is hardly any better.

Looking like a character from a Graham Greene novel, Brügger plays his part to the hilt.  Unlike Red Chapel, where the director was in a constant on-screen dialogue with the viewers and his co-conspirators in his attempt to punk the North Korean regime, Brügger largely stays in character throughout Ambassador.  His neck is also on the line when things get dodgy, in a very real way.

Had a conventional Michael Moore-inspired doc-grinder tackled this subject, they simply would have ambushed the receptionist at Liberia’s UN mission and claimed a great moral victim when the low level employee could not discuss their country’s diplomatic personnel in the CAR chapter and verse.  Brügger puts those play-it-safers to shame.  (This specifically includes the cowardly Yes Men.)  Until they start challenging the kind of people who can make their critics disappear, on their home turf, they are not worthy of carrying Brügger’s cigarette holder.  Another have-to-see-it-to-believe-it film from the muckraking provocateur, The Ambassador is very highly and earnestly recommended when it opens this Wednesday (8/29) in New York at the IFC Center.

Sundance ’12: The Ambassador

Ambassadors are generally addressed as “your Excellency,” which is nice. They can also carry briefcases loaded with diamonds through customs, no questions asked. That is even cooler. It is definitely what mad Mads Brügger had in mind when he set out to buy a diplomatic post. His resulting misadventures are documented in The Ambassador (trailer here), Brügger’s latest gutsy cinematic provocation screening at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival.

If you have seen Brügger’s Red Chapel (and I really hope you have), you will be familiar with his fearless brand of documentary filmmaking. The plan this time is to buy an ambassadorship representing Liberia in the Central African Republic (CAR) through a “diplomatic broker.” Once credentialed, Brügger will establish a match factory as a cover for his illegal diamond smuggling operation. The shocking thing is he pretty much goes about doing exactly that, but there are complications.

For the record, these are very definitely blood diamonds he is talking about. There just aren’t any other kind in the CAR. That means the politically connected mine owner Brügger starts negotiating with is a pretty scary character. Indeed, there are real stakes for Brügger in this masquerade, including life and limb.

Frankly, Ambassador would be hilarious if it was a feature narrative, but as a documentary, it is rather staggering. The wholesale government corruption Brügger captures on film is widespread and pervasive. While some blame for the country’s lawlessness and desperate poverty is laid at the feet of their former colonial power, the good old French, there is truly no excuse for such dire conditions to exist in a country so richly blessed with mineral resources. Clearly, something is rotten in the failed state of CAR, and Liberia is hardly any better.

Looking like a character from a Graham Greene novel, Brügger plays his part to the hilt. Unlike Red Chapel, where the director was in a constant on-screen dialogue with the viewers and his co-conspirators in his attempt to punk the North Korean regime, Brügger largely stays in character throughout Ambassador. His neck is also on the line when things get dodgy.

Had a conventional Michael Moore-inspired doc-grinder tackled this subject, they simply would have ambushed the receptionist at Liberia’s UN mission and claimed a great moral victim when the low level employee could not discuss their countries diplomatic personnel in the CAR chapter and verse. Brügger puts them to shame. (This specifically includes the Yes Men.) Until they start challenging the kind of people who can make them disappear, on their home turf, they are not worthy of carrying Brügger’s cigarette holder. Another have-to-see-it-to-believe-it film from the muckraking provocateur, The Ambassador is very highly recommended when it screens at this year’s Sundance in Park City on Tuesday (1/24), Thursday (1/26), and Friday (1/27), as well as next Saturday (1/28) in Salt Lake.

Punking North Korea: The Red Chapel

Talk about disclaimers: Danish director Mads Brügger explains all the footage the audience is about to watch had been thoroughly vetted by North Korean state censors. Yet his suspicion that the post-modern irony he would unleash on the world’s most isolated country would not be recognized as such by the Communist authorities proved largely correct. The gutsiest act of cinematic provocation perhaps ever and easily the highlight of this year’s New Directors/New Films, Mads Brügger’s The Red Chapel (trailer here), begins a well deserved theatrical run at New York’s IFC Center this Wednesday.

Ostensively, Brügger came to North Korea with two Danish Korean comedians, Simon Jul Jørgensen and Jacob Nossell to stage a good will show. However, his real intent was to expose the oppressive nature of DPRK system. Though submission to state censorship was a given right from the start, Brügger thought he had an ace in the hole: Nossell.

A self-described “spastic” (Nossell’s words, not mine), the subversive director knew the comedian would make the North Koreans uneasy, since those born with disabilities simply do not survive in their socialist paradise. Brügger also hoped Nossell would be able to speak freely on film, because none of the censors would understand his “spastic Danish” (Brügger’s words, not mine).

As soon as the Danes arrived in the North, their minder, Mrs. Pak, stuck to them like glue. Her response to Nossell was particularly bizarre, almost smothering him with attention. However, even Mrs. Pak could not fake an enthusiastic response to the program the comedians had prepared. Featuring skits in drag and an unclassifiable rendition of Oasis’s “Wonderwall,” it was not just bad, it was awe-inspiringly awful. It is hard to say which is funnier, their variety show on crack or the stone-faced reactions. However, seeing the propaganda potential of the show, the North Korean authorities began thoroughly revamping it to their ideological purposes. So much for cultural exchange.

While Chapel is at times a riotous exercise in comedic performance art, the overall film is as serious as a missile attack. The pathological nature of DPRK society weighed particularly heavily on Nossell, causing frequent rifts between him and the director. It all comes to a head when Nossell very publically refuses to participate in one of the regime’s big scary anti-American mass demonstrations. It is scene fraught with its own irony, as Mad Mads Brügger, the rebellious gadfly, tries to cajole his countrymen into professing support for what he calls the regime’s “mother lie,” the Communist myth that American aggression precipitated the Korean War.

Though he makes a noble effort, Brügger fails to capture the smoking gun scene that would utterly lay bear North Korea’s tyranny. Of course, he was doomed from the start, because the Communists set all the rules and could change them at their convenience. Still, they are plenty of telling moments (particularly the climatic demonstration), as well as some outrageous humor.

Chapel has been compared to the “Yes Men,” but that does not do Brügger justice. Unlike the play-it-safe leftist pranksters, Brügger was punking a target that exercises absolute, unchecked power, on its own turf. Based on the DPRK’s apoplectic response to the film, it is doubtful Brügger will ever return to make a sequel. He probably will not miss the place. Beyond surreal, Chapel simply has to be seen to be believed. Enthusiastically recommended, it opens tomorrow (12/29) at the IFC Center.

ND/NF ’10: The Red Chapel

What a disclaimer. Danish director Mads Brügger explains all the footage the audience is about to watch had been thoroughly vetted by North Korean state censors. Yet his suspicion that the post-modern irony he would unleash on the world’s most isolated country would not be recognized as such by the Communist authorities proved largely correct. The gutsiest act of cinematic provocation perhaps ever, Mads Brügger’s The Red Chapel (trailer here) is easily the highlight of this year’s New Directors New Films.

Ostensively, Brügger came to North Korea with two Danish Korean comedians, Simon Jul Jørgensen and Jacob Nossell to stage a good will show. However, his real intent was to expose the oppressive nature of DPRK system. Though submission to state censorship was a given right from the start, Brügger thought he had an ace in the hole: Nossell.

A self-described “spastic” (his words, not mine), the subversive director knew Nossell would make the North Koreans uneasy, since those born with disabilities simply do not survive in their socialist paradise. Brügger also hoped Nossell would be able to speak freely on film, because none of the censors would understand his “spastic Danish” (again, his words, not mine).

As soon as the Danes arrived in the North, their minder, Mrs. Pak, stuck to them like glue. Her response to Nossell was particularly bizarre, almost smothering him with attention. However, even Mrs. Pak could not fake an enthusiastic response to the program the comedians had prepared. Featuring skits in drag and an unclassifiable rendition of Oasis’s “Wonderwall,” it was not just bad, it was awe-inspiringly awful. It is hard to say which is funnier, their variety show on crack or the stoned face reactions. However, seeing the propaganda potential of the show, the North Korean authorities set about adapting it to their ideological purposes. So much for cultural exchange.

While Chapel is at times a riotous exercise in comedic performance art, the overall film is as serious as a heart attack. The pathological nature of DPRK society weighed particularly heavily on Nossell, causing frequent rifts between him and the director. It all comes to a head when Nossell very publically refuses to participate in one of the regime’s big scary anti-American mass demonstrations. It is scene fraught with its own irony, as Brügger, the rebellious gadfly, tries to cajole his countrymen into professing support for what he calls the regime’s “mother lie,” the Communist myth that American aggression precipitated the Korean War.

Though he makes a noble effort, Brügger fails to capture the smoking gun scene that would utterly lay bear North Korea’s tyranny. Of course, he was doomed from the start, because the Communists set all the rules and could change them at their convenience. Still, they are plenty of telling moments (particularly the climatic demonstration), as well as some outrageous humor.

Chapel has been compared to the “Yes Men,” but that does not do Brügger justice. Unlike the play-it-safe leftist pranksters, Brügger was punking a target that exercises absolute, unchecked power, on its own turf. Based on the DPRK’s apoplectic response to the film, it is doubtful Brügger will ever return to make a sequel. He probably will not miss the place. Beyond surreal, Chapel simply has to be seen to be believed. Enthusiastically recommended, it screens next Saturday (4/3) at MoMA and next Sunday (4/4) at the Walter Reade, as New Films New Directors continues.