Teddy Bear is a study in contrasts. The dissonance between a tattooed, muscle-bound hulk of a man and his utter domination by those thin and frail is a wonder to behold. This is the state in which Dennis, the titular character of Teddy Bear, is introduced: so nervous on his date that he mindlessly copies her order and ends up with food to which he is allergic. “Why did you order it?” “I didn’t think it had shrimp.” A look. “In a shrimp cocktail?”
Though clad in Schwarzenegger-esque musculature, Dennis (Kim Kold) is more reminiscent of a painfully awkward adolescent. Many aspects of Dennis’ life suggests a man in stasis: from the fact that he’s still living with his mother at age 38, to his computer, which runs Windows 98.
Many lacking Dennis’ physique manage to get the better of him—in one memorable scene, he is emasculated at a urinal by a prostitute. One individual who does this with unfaltering persistency is Dennis’ own mother, played with a convincing mix of infirmity and callousness by Elsebeth Steentoft. Manifesting physical frailty and an indomitable will, she is Dennis’ very antithesis. Her tactics are formidable: a Molotov cocktail of shame and pity. The size disadvantage is more than compensated by her adroit grasp of psychological manipulation. Some may find her almost sympathetic, but I disagree; if anything, the character is not and Steentoft makes her so.
The cinematography masterfully accentuates this atmosphere, shooting a bedside conversation at a diagonal angle to emphasize Dennis’ mass, or pulling back to a well-edited reveal of the pair’s relative heights (for the record, she is below Dennis’ shoulder). The hand-held camera conveys intimacy to the point where I felt awkward prying. A proliferation of medium shots, as opposed to tight close-ups, has the effect of hitting home Dennis’ loneliness. Even in group gatherings, the camera manages to frame him alone.
Much of the film takes place in Thailand, where Dennis travels in search of love. The filmmakers should be commended for their breakaway from stereotypes; the audience’s first look at the “exotic East” is composed of spacious highways and English billboards, projecting the very core of modernization and globalization.
The film is very modest in its general arc. Writer-director Mads Matthiesen valorizes a love that is old-fashioned. A throwback, the kind based on chance and hard knocks. Individual scenes pulse with warmth, yet the plot unfolds in a predictable fashion. Teddy Bear personifies the unfortunate instance in which the whole is less than the sum of its parts. However, this drawback neither diminishes the pleasure obtained from watching Dennis’ personal growth, nor the frustration felt when the solution, so simple to the audience, remains just out of reach.
One can see the film’s “moment of truth” coming from a mile away – the imminent collision of Dennis’ two worlds, the promise of a train wreck – unfolding with awkward timidity. This is not quite so. The climax is skipped over for the denouement. There’s no yelling, no triumphant catharsis — just an acknowledgement that love is a complicated, messy, beautiful thing.
—Teddy Bear opens Friday, September 7th at Cinema du Parc, 3575 avenue du Parc.
