At the 2004 Wisconsin Film Fest, I had the pleasure of watching a Danish film called Reconstruction. I was only vaguely aware of its origin and didn't think much of that at the time. I wasn't as impressed with the lineup I selected in 2005 as I had been in 2004, so when 2006 rolled around, I took a look at what I had liked before to figure out what I'd likely enjoy again. Reconstruction came to mind, so I picked two Danish films to see that year: Kinamand and Adam's Apples.

Kinemand is the sad and slightly slow tale of a plumber who, after his wife leaves him, is befriended by the owner of the Chinese restaurant he frequents. The protagonist is a quiet, withdrawn man, but the actor portraying him communicates volumes about his feelings. After he marries the restaurateur's sister so she can become a Danish citizen, he falls in love with her anyway. Then she dies, and in the movie's most crushing scene, he doesn't bother denying to the nature of their marriage to the immigration officers who don't know she's dead.

Does that sound complex? I didn't realize it was until I tried to explain it. Watching the movie, it doesn't feel remotely complex, it just feels like life.

Adam's Apples, my favorite of 2006, depicts the redemption of a neo-nazi at a somewhat off beat church. Given the subject matter and some of the events in the film, it definitely isn't a comedy. And yet, it has a number of moments that are incredibly funny. Writer & director Anders Thomas Jensen understands perfectly the balance of humor in a serious film. While two much would distract from the message, an appropriate amount serves to defuse tension that might otherwise become unbearable.

The next year, 2007, I had to do it again. The Boss of It All is a comedy by iconoclast Lars von Trier. Far from the edgy Five Obstructions -- another of my favorites from 2004's Film Fest -- the Boss of It All is as straightforward as it gets. Almost. The owner of a company who has invented a fictitious CEO to do all the dirty work hires an inept but lovable over-actor to play the part when he needs the CEO to make an appearance. The plan goes awry, and the actor has to stay on in the role of CEO. Even with a plot as formulaic as this, the actors breath such sincerity into their roles that it elevates the film to another level.

Red Road was the most intense experience of last year's Film Fest. It isn't actually Danish, but Anders Thomas Jenson (of Adam's Apples) sketched the characters for it. The protagonist is a closed circuit TV operator who becomes fixated on a figure from her past whom she sees on the job. Part of the art of it is how the backstory is revealed, allowing the viewers to draw their own incorrect conclusions before learning the truth.

This year I made it to all three feature length Danish films. Substitute was the most enjoyable movie of the weekend. The new school substitute Ulla (Paprika Steen, who had a role in Adam's Apples) is an alien on a mission to Earth to study compassion, which her people don't know. It's the rare gem of a scary movie that doesn't resort to boo moments to startle the audience, rather preying on subtler fears. The film's children confirm their suspicions that their teacher isn't what she seems, but their parents refuse to believe them. It's also very, very funny. If the director hadn't been savvy to audience reaction and timed things accordingly, lines would have been obscured by the audience's guffaws.

Prague was the simple and understated observation of the collapse of a marriage. It evoked more emotion than anything else I saw this weekend, drawing out feelings of pain, frustration, anger, and loss. The characters were all entirely believable, by themselves and in their interaction with one another. When Maja finds Christoffer (Mads Mikkelson, who was brilliant as the priest in Adam's Apples) after he has spent the night with another woman, they sit silently in a cab for some time before she asks “Was that necessary?” Christoffer responds “No.” After fourteen years of marriage, there isn't any deceit or accusation in this interaction.

Anders Thomas Jensen wrote White Night, making this the fifth year in a row of his inclusion in the Festival; sadly, I missed The Green Butchers in 2004 and Brothers in 2005. Ulrich, a real estate speculator, isn't someone you're inclined to like. When he accidentally kills a man in a bar fight, everyone else assures him it isn't a problem. He's quickly acquitted and assured by his lawyers, boss, and wife that there's nothing to worry him. But it is, of course, more complex. The event has damaged ancient emotional scabs, and Ulrich is unprepared to deal with the wounds beneath them. In an attempt at atonement, he goes to see the widow, Karina, and children of the man he killed.

In an American movie, there would have been a lengthy period where Karina didn't realize who Ulrich was. There'd be a falling out when she finally found out and a subsequent reconciliation. White Night is more both more realistic and more mature. She quickly realizes who he is, and as soon as she does she pushes him out of her life. She doesn't want his money, his apology, or anything else to do with him; she just wants to forget. Even at the end of the film, when she helps to lead him toward the redemption he's been seeking for a now-ancient failure, it's clear she wants nothing to do with and that they will never be friends.

When she introduced Prague, Wisconsin Film Festival director Meg Hamel admitted that when programming the festival each year she makes a point of looking for Danish films that are out at the right time. This attention shows in the fantastic opportunities festival-goers have been afforded for the last couple of years. Even after a weekend packed with movies, I can't wait to see what next year has to offer.