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Nicolas Winding Refn might be best known to American audiences for his 2011 film Drive, a sleek yet minimalist action drama that features Ryan Gosling donning an iconic jacket, driving with precision, and unleashing intense violence. Interestingly, Albert Brooks, cast against type, delivers a memorable performance as the film’s antagonist. However, before Drive captivated audiences, the Copenhagen-born director had already spent 15 years crafting films. Now, as Refn’s latest work, Her Private Hell, prepares for its Cannes debut before a July release, his inaugural feature, Pusher, is celebrating its 30th anniversary with a 4K restoration and a limited theatrical run.
No need to reside in a city offering the Pusher re-release or purchase the 4K edition to experience Refn’s debut; it’s currently streaming on Tubi. The film is a fascinating entry point into Refn’s oeuvre and offers an early glimpse of Mads Mikkelsen, who has since become a staple in American cinema, both as a character actor and a leading man. It’s intriguing to consider that Refn and Mikkelsen’s film premiered in the same year as classics like Trainspotting and Independence Day—a reminder of how time can play tricks on our perception of cinematic history.
Why Watch Pusher Tonight?
Fans familiar with Refn’s later work might be surprised by the dialogue-heavy nature of Pusher, especially when compared to the sparse dialogue of films like Drive or Only God Forgives. Instead of a reticent Ryan Gosling, we follow the story of Frank (Kim Bodnia), a young drug dealer, and his sidekick Tonny (Mads Mikkelsen), as they navigate the gritty underworld of Copenhagen. Their routine—selling drugs, visiting Frank’s on-and-off girlfriend, dining out, and clubbing—is punctuated by coarse humor. However, Frank’s week takes a nosedive when a botched drug deal leaves him indebted to the ruthless dealer Milo (Zlatko Burić), forcing him to hastily gather money or drugs to settle the debt before Milo seeks repayment through more sinister means.
While Refn’s English-language films are known for their star power and stylized cinematography, Pusher presents a stark contrast. Frank is neither charming nor charismatic, and the film’s handheld, dynamic camerawork keeps viewers grounded in his gritty reality. This approach offers a compelling divergence from Refn’s later protagonists and the cool, post-Tarantino criminals that dominated the cinematic landscape at the time of Pusher‘s release.
Refn’s later, English-language films have a great deal more movie-star glamor (and elegant slow-cinema camerawork) lighting up their seedy worlds; Frank, on the other hand, isn’t an especially likable or charismatic guy, seen largely through handheld and constantly swerving camera that emphasizes his close-to-the-ground vantage point. But both the character and the filmmaking strike a fascinating contrast with future Refn heroes/antiheroes — and also with the post-Tarantino cool-criminal type that was so dominant at the time of Pusher‘s release.
Pusher isn’t quite a kitchen-sink crime drama, but it also doesn’t traffic in any illusions about drug dealing being a particularly enviable profession, especially in the long run. Though we see dealers who are higher up the chain than Frank, none of them seem to be living any kind of music-video lifestyle of illicit wealth. They just have access to more effective thugs as their henchmen, while Frank only has the questionably loyal Tonny. We also see clearly how close Frank is to financial ruin; one run of bad luck, and he’s essentially penniless, backed into a corner without many viable options that don’t involve doing or receiving violence. Even criminals who are more protected than Frank all seem to have outside interests — one likes to bake, apparently badly; another wants to open a restaurant — that make the Copenhagen drug trade seem like
None of this is exactly a revelation on its own. But in the context of both 1990s crime movies and Refn’s full career, Pusher makes for a compelling time capsule. It’s also interesting to see Refn’s later style begin to emerge as the movie goes on; it starts off as a movie about raffish, vulgar criminals meandering about their business; again, shades of Tarantino, though without the elevated dialogue. Eventually, though, it makes a now-familiar descent into neon-lit hell as the walls close in around Frank, and Refn relies more on the visual mood (and, in a few scenes, a pulsing soundtrack) to tell the story.
Pusher was actually followed by two belated sequels when Refn had trouble getting other projects off the ground; one is about Mikkelsen’s Tonny, while the other is about Milo. (They’re both on Tubi, too.) Refn would move on to more ambitious projects, but he clearly found something notable about the criminal underbelly of his hometown.
Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.
Stream Pusher on Tubi