One of the main agendas of the Scandinavian cinema and its respective regisseurs are bonded under one matter nowadays: The unbearable desire to escape. It may differ across genres, such as Joachim Trier’s third film of the bitter Oslo trilogy and his latest examination on being lost, The Worst Person in the World (2021), or Eskil Vogt’s directorial debut thriller Blind (2014), which keeps a diary of a creative process both melancholic and erotically; but, still, the contemporary takes of the directors under this modern-day struggles are present and, actually, quite beloved. 

Premiered both on the latest editions of Rotterdam and Göteborg Film Festivals, Danish filmmaker Martin Skovbjerg’s sophomore feature Copenhagen Does Not Exist (København findes ikke), matters this shared experience as well, while focusing on a relationship, where both of its romantic subjects are yearning for the alternate. Teaming with the acclaimed wordsmith and the long-since collaborator of Trier, Eskil Vogt, Skovbjerg puts an intriguing adaptation of the novella “Sander” by Terje Holtet Larsen.

After the disappearance of her girlfriend, Ida (Angela Bundalovic), Sander (Jonas Holst Schmidt) is locked up in an apartment where the ghost of the bygone is invisibly haunting. In an interrogation-like atmosphere, the film follows the conversations between him and Ida’s father (Zlatko Burić) meanwhile, her brother Viktor (Vilmer Trier Brøgger) is sitting behind a camera, filming everything that had been said and is going to be expressed. Trying to find out this young woman’s whereabouts, Sander starts to talk about how everything has started, but it is slowly being hinted that he is not telling the whole truth and it is the only ace he holds in his hand.

The suspense element of the film, its rosebud that lies beneath, and the search after Ida’s disappearance evoke a sense of familiarity early on. This intimate thrill penned by Vogt himself stirs this resemblance, thus making his contribution even more evident. The cumulative work behind the film: The direction, the text, the stunning cinematography, and the shivering sound design blankets the mood of its escapees, which teemingly uses the distance they put between them and the outside world. Sander and Ida have positioned as just another reflection of this collective existential search, which has staggered the human condition for quite some time. Skovbjerg’s portrayal showcases the battle where both sides do not know their role in this game, and rather than being the mouse or the cat, he draws a route to the solid possible option for his characters, leaving everything and everyone behind.

Throughout the film Skovbjerg generously uses flashbacks to capture the intimacy between Ida and Sander on a deeper level, demonstrating how they have become the way they were. From the day the couple met to the fights they already had, and the time they had spent together, he visits the key parts of the relationship while structuring every layer carefully. He observes the isolated life they built for themselves, where they leave social calls unanswered, and responsibilities incomplete, refusing to be a part of almost everything that a typical so-called modern life brings along. Instead, they listen to classical music in the afternoons, make love in bed for hours, or eat dinner and take a bath while glancing at each other with passion, as they have nobody but themselves and the city they were once a part of, the bright-shining Copenhagen, to them, does not exist. Skovbjerg tends to reflect the spiritual condition of the couple with a calm approach, but he uses on the other hand, visuals saturated with warmth that complement and highlight each other’s presence, as the way blue does to orange, and Sander does to Ida.

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