Cannes 2012: The Hunt Review
rating: 4.5
It's telling that The Hunt is Thomas Vinterberg's best film since his 1998 classic Festen, given that both works examine the effects of child abuse - or at least the perception of it - in such an uncommonly unflinching manner. Vinterberg's latest effort is a remarkable thriller, bursting with intelligence, and actually having something important to say. Lucas (Mads Mikkelsen) is a hugely popular kindergarten teacher, and those initial scenes in which we see him gleefully playing with the kids in his class, unafraid of overt physical contact, is a forgotten portrait of the idyllic teaching environment so cravenly clamped down upon by overly-PC administrators. While much of Vinterberg's first act is joyous and extremely funny, this only allows it to hit harder once one of Lucas' students, Klara (Annika Wedderkopp), falsely accuses him of sexual abuse after he rejects her school-girl crush, and the small Danish community slowly begins to turn against him, transforming into a senseless mob. Though some will be tempted to suggest a certain ambiguity about this story, Lucas' innocence is never at all in doubt, even if numerous other narrative elements quite agreeably are. The reasons for Klara's lie are made abundantly clear from the outset, and the young Wedderkopp does an outstanding job of portraying the sad neglect of her character, initially paid care and attention only by Lucas, and then ignored by her parents when she repeatedly tries to clear his name. The point here seems to be that once a machine like this starts, stopping it is nigh-on impossible; paranoia spreads through the school's parental network like a virus, and as a result Lucas' home life - where he is trying to retain custody of his teenage son and continue a relationship with a fellow teacher - begins to unravel. Vinterberg also riffs on the grandest of ironies, that the community blindly trusts the scarcely-enthused words of a child - known for their imagination and lack of reliability - compared to an upstanding pillar of the community such as Lucas. To say that he is put through the wringer is to vastly understate the case; Lucas is not merely cast out as a pariah, but subjected to all manner of physical and emotional abuse, much of which - such as having Lucas arrested without a scrap of sufficient evidence - serves as guilt signifiers only to incriminate him further in the already-decided minds of the community at large. Mikkelsen conveys the impact of these incidents perfectly, mostly adopting a slow-burning smoulder that occasionally sears bright with white-hot, righteous rage. Needless to say, the third act in particular is a feat of nearly unbearable tension, as the threats towards Lucas move to the physical side, and against his homestead as a whole. While for a few moments at its climax, Vinterberg appears to have lost his nerve, this is a fake-out of sorts, measured and very much in the service of a more impactful final 30 seconds, cementing the stigmatic nature of Klara's accusations, and ending things on something of a bummer, if one both necessary and thought-provoking. This is a subject rarely broached, and never attacked in such incendiary, smart, vital terms. Vinterberg's acidic, important and brilliantly infuriating thriller reaches the heights of his best work, cannily examining the psychology of mob mentality, and bound to leave viewers in a state of high anxiety.