As a filmmaker and storyteller, I find myself deeply moved by the powerful narrative of “Families Like Ours.” The series serves as a poignant reminder of our shared humanity, transcending geographical boundaries and cultural differences. The challenge in creating this series lies not only in the intricate plot development but also in making it relatable to audiences worldwide. It’s like painting a picture where every stroke needs to be precise and meaningful, yet the overall image must resonate universally.
As the Syrian Conflict erupted in 2011, causing a tide of refugees to flow towards Europe, filmmaker Thomas Vinterberg, with his compassionate heart, identified deeply with the plight of millions of families who were compelled to abandon their homes and seek refuge in unfamiliar territories. However, upon witnessing the reaction of many Europeans—frequently unfriendly, occasionally aggressive—the esteemed director of films like “Another Round,” “The Hunt,” and “The Celebration” found himself contemplating: What if a calamity struck closer to us, and we ourselves became refugees?
Over a decade has passed since that “hypothetical scenario” sparked the creation of “Families Like Ours“. This captivating miniseries is set to debut at the Venice Film Festival, followed by its screening at TIFF. It envisions a not-so-distant future where escalating sea levels compel Denmark’s government to evacuate its entire population, making six million people refugees in search of refuge wherever they can find it.
This captivating series showcases an impressive lineup of Danish acting talent within its star-studded cast, including Nikolaj Lie Kaas, Thomas Bo Larsen, David Dencik, Paprika Steen, and Magnus Millang. The six-episode series is a joint production between StudioCanal and Zentropa and will air on TV2 Denmark starting in October. StudioCanal handles global distribution of the show.
In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Vinterberg shared his reasons for steering clear of typical disaster movie tropes, instead concentrating on the human aspect of climate change and global migration. This approach resulted in a “slow-motion dystopia” and was influenced by a rude French waiter, who served as the inspiration for the series.
Originally, “Families Like Ours” was inspired by an intriguing and somewhat futuristic concept that also carried a deeply personal touch. Can you tell us more about the origins of this unique story?
The concept for this project originated around six years ago, before both the COVID-19 pandemic and the Ukraine war. It stemmed from observing how we welcomed Syrian refugees in Copenhagen. My intention was to create a thought experiment that would challenge people from Western societies, asking them to imagine themselves as refugees, having to leave everything they cherish behind. I wanted to explore how much resilience such individuals could muster and what coping strategies they might develop. It’s like pondering the question: Who would you choose to take with you if your lifeboat only had room for four people? The psychological aspects of this dilemma are what intrigue me most, making them the backbone of this series. That is why I opted against including scenes depicting flooding or natural disasters.
The primary motivation behind crafting this show stemmed from an experience in Paris, where I spent a year and a half feeling quite unwelcome. Despite frequenting the same cafe daily, the staff would treat me rudely, as if I were just another tourist. One particular Sunday, I longed to be with my family, especially my daughters, who I missed dearly. This longing was amplified by thoughts of what it would be like if we were forced apart, much like the families in the film Brooklyn, which depicts the massive immigration from Europe to America during the 1950s. Reflecting on my daughters’ compassionate concerns about the planet and climate change sparked my inspiration for this show.
Just as you mentioned, this piece doesn’t depict real-life disasters or sensationalize them for dramatic effect, often referred to as “disaster porn.” I’m curious though, did you explore the scientific aspects of climate change within this narrative, or delve into other elements of the story?
Rather than focusing on climate change, we delved into a distinct area of study – examining the preparedness of Denmark in the event of an unprecedented disaster. We pondered over how our Foreign Ministry would respond in such a scenario, considering Denmark as a small country that I am familiar with. Our aim was to act proactively, taking measures before the country is submerged by floodwaters. Instead of investing heavily in attempts to preserve specific regions, we sought ways to ensure the safety and well-being of our citizens – prioritizing their rescue over saving areas.
This narrative revolves around families, making it universally relatable. Yet, it distinctly reflects Danish culture. One might ponder if Denmark, politically, offers an intriguing perspective with this tale of mass migration, given its pioneering role in tightening immigration policies across Europe. Denmark was among the initial European countries to significantly restrict migration, almost serving as a model for others in this regard.
In essence, my work revolves around diverse human responses, mirroring Rilke’s sentiment that there’s no universal way for humans to react. I focus on courageous acts of refugees and similar themes. However, your question strikes a raw nerve, bringing back painful memories. Growing up in Denmark, we were known for our kindness towards Jewish refugees during World War II. In fact, we helped smuggle people out of the occupied country to safety in Sweden. This was who we were as a society. But in 2016, our government acted contrary to this image by enacting a law that allowed confiscation of refugees’ jewelry at the border. I was deeply ashamed and even spoke out publicly against my own country. This was a difficult time. You can find an echo of this in Families Like Ours, where I attempt to flip the script and imagine: “What if we were the refugees?” There’s a sense of fulfillment in this perspective as well.
Throughout Europe, there’s a prevalent notion of a protective barrier for Europe. Political powers in nearly every nation appear keen on constructing barriers to prevent entry. The concept of a united, boundary-less Europe, which still holds some truth, is now being rigorously demarcated based on one’s identity and origin.
However, when discussing fortifications, it’s not merely a matter confined to localities, Europe, or Denmark. Instead, it transcends those boundaries and becomes more of a global issue. For instance, consider the fortress of America, where they are constructing a wall, rather than dismantling one. This trend is evident worldwide. Therefore, I find intriguing the idea of flipping perspectives and placing Westerners in the role of refugees.
Based on what you mentioned earlier, I’m curious about the difficulties you encountered while taking these photos since you chose not to use typical disaster imagery. What do you think presented the biggest challenge during your photography process?
The task lies in presenting this series as a deeply human narrative, despite its disaster theme, which unfolds gradually like a slow-motion catastrophe. Interestingly, the story unfurls across seven distinct nations I wasn’t previously familiar with, necessitating extensive research to ensure authenticity. This process was no small feat. During test screenings, viewers often raised questions such as why characters were leaving their country when the streets had no water, and so on. This prompted us to devise methods to convey that this is how it would play out in a well-organized Western nation like Denmark – where we’d be informed of an impending disaster and wouldn’t wait for flooding to evacuate. We feel that portraying such rapid response as realistic strains credibility. Finding an effective way to communicate this understanding with the audience, after months of research, turned out to be quite a challenge.
Did the research extend to how different countries would react to a flood of Danish refugees?
Absolutely, it’s difficult to predict a country’s response with absolute certainty due to the unpredictable nature of human behavior, particularly in times of crisis or perceived threat. Humans often revert to more primal instincts during such periods, focusing on self-preservation and seeking comfort in their immediate circle. This can lead to defensive or aggressive behaviors. For instance, Poland has been welcoming towards Ukrainian refugees, but if the country were overwhelmed by an influx of foreigners in the future, it could trigger a crisis and potential regression leading to aggression. However, this series also showcases significant acts of kindness. The central theme revolves around a girl putting her own life, career, and aspirations aside to help her mother, and a character named Elias who journeys across a continent to reunite with the one he once loved. This indicates that while self-preservation is a human instinct, so too is compassion and selflessness.
Did you come out of making this series more or less hopeful about the future?
Essentially, it’s intriguing to consider why we persist in activities like frequent flying and buying new items, despite knowing they harm our planet. Yet, it seems we are limited by our current capabilities. The magnitude of climate change is overwhelming, making it a challenge we struggle to manage. As a result, we tend to concentrate on our personal lives and immediate surroundings. There’s a sense of forgiveness in this, as we’re not indifferent but are simply doing the best we can.
Have you gone back to that cafe in France and thanked the rude waiter for inspiring you?
If I were to go, he might very well respond with something like, “Qu’est-ce que tu veux, toi?” or “Qui es-tu?” followed by some unkind remarks, in French.
Check out the trailer for Families Like Ours below.
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2024-09-01 11:25