Award-winning
Danish director Bille August’s A
Fortunate Man, based on Henrik Pontoppidan’s Nobel Prize–winning novel, Lucky Per (1898–1904), is a feast for
the eyes and mind. Whatever the camera focuses on in this richly conceived
drama about young, ambitious, and fiery-tempered Peter Andreas Sidenius (Esben
Smed), captivates our eyes, from the opening scene of a windswept heath
overlooking Jutland’s blue sea to the next scene of Copenhagen’s cobblestone
streets in the late 19th-century. One of the loveliest settings is the wealthy Salomons’
home with its soft refinement. Every detail has been considered and captured by
the camera—costumes, period furnishings, lifestyles, mores, and the actors’
faces. The film is a visual, atmospheric emporium, and Peter’s life story a
saga of epic, psychological proportions, this latter aspect most compelling.
Beginning with the film’s opening scenes in a
backward region of Denmark, we witness Peter’s dire need to escape his authoritarian
father who’s the local vicar. Peter’s nineteen and receives an acceptance
letter to the university in Copenhagen—his ticket to freedom. Penniless,
hungry, but full of ambition for his hydroelectric power inventions that have
the potential to transform Denmark’s standing in the world, Peter grasps any
opportunity for an entrée into the city’s echelons of power. This means he uses
people to advance his progress. But don’t we all in our career choices? Still,
judgment creeps into our audience view of Peter, particularly when his
manipulations involve women, first a soft-hearted waitress who feeds him, then
Jakobe Salomon (Katrine Greis-Rosenthal), because she’s a rich heiress, albeit
with an enlightened mind that he also admires. But it’s her financial position
in the family that first catches his attention.
Peter’s extremely good-looking, with an ingenuous
side that contrasts favorably to Copenhagen’s sophistication and class divisions.
His freshness and enthusiasm for his groundbreaking ideas amplify his appeal. His
dark side also surfaces—his deep-seated anger for his father and his severe religious
upbringing. His inner rage plays a role in his fate. As his story moves along,
gaining successful steps toward the realization of his dreams, his intolerance
for others’ unfair, unjust, or superior behavior thwart his achievement. His
character flaw is his stubborn adherence to truth. But is that a character flaw?
Should jealous, condescending people from the elite class who control jobs and
infrastructure, also control his path to success? Peter is ripped apart by his success
or defeat being controlled by vindictive types. These concerns of his have far more
importance to him than his closest relationships.
The movie, which is long because it’s a saga,
keeps up tension from the beginning, when Ivan Salomon—Peter’s Jewish peer and entrée
into the monied world he needs for his inventions—says to Peter, “You’re a
fortunate man!” We are instantly braced for the demise of that fortunate man.
All goes brilliantly for a while. Ivan takes Peter home to meet the Salomon family,
which includes his two beautiful sisters, Jakobe and Nanny. The Salomons’
luxurious lifestyle intoxicates Peter, so does the free-flowing wine. The dignified
elders who control the family’s investments welcome hearing Peter’s ideas and
treat him graciously, despite his obvious difference in social etiquette. At
one point, Uncle Delft says to Peter, “Fortune favors fools.” And toward the
end of the movie, when Peter’s arc has played out from a manic climb to success
to a descent into loss and despair, Uncle Delft again states a proverb to him:
“Pride goes before a fall.” These three sayings match the arc points in Peter’s
story: a fortunate man, fortune favors fools, pride before a fall.
Peter’s mental torment that began in childhood under
a ruthless father grows with age and disappointment. His story reminds us of
how so many young people with creative plans for their lives, soon find doors
closed to them because of the guarded power of the rich and connected. Peter experiences
a universal: Lost dreams cause the slow sadness, bitterness, and depression we
see on late-middle-aged faces; life often delves out more sadness than joy. Peter
also grapples with more than the average seeker. He’s a genius-inventor barred
from the only social stratum that can bring his contributions to fruition.
Despite his defeat, Peter’s mind won’t, or
can’t, stop its pursuits. He returns to Jutland, marries, and has children, but
these most important relationships mean less to him than his mind’s unstoppable
quest. He’s unable to assume financial responsibilities for the family because
of his innate drive to invent.
One day, at the family
dinner table, he awakens to his reality—his authentic self—and abruptly leaves
the table. The film then cuts to a decade later, with Peter living like a
hermit in a rustic cottage on the heath near the sea. He’s bearded, physically
neglected, but working with his same total absorption on his inventions.
Whether from his childhood trauma or his genius genes, or a combination of
both, he’s constructed to live a solitary life with his creativity, and he
accepts it. Witnessing his humble surrender to his true self evokes our audience
compassion in the deepest way. His last, emotional conversation with ever-faithful
Jakobe transcends melodrama. It’s one of the most beautiful endings to a
tormented life story because of its heartbreaking honesty.
