Initially “Christiania” appears as a homage from a filmmaker to a place and time he feels a nostalgic pull for even though has not actually experienced it. In trying to tell the story of the Copenhagen neighborhood considered both a haven and a utopia, director Karl Friis Forchhammer starts by explaining that he was born there but immediately after his parents left and he felt pangs of jealousy for not being allowed to grow up there. His film is more than a paean, it’s an explanation of how a few people created a community for themselves and how it spiraled into something they never intended it to be.
Christiania, the place, came about in 1971 when some abandoned barracks were taken over by a group of Copenhagen locals, squatters, and homeless people. From then on it grew organically as many others moved there, lured by the promise of living outside the norms of society and within a loving, open community that came up with its own principles of living. No one was in charge, people volunteered to help each other build houses and shared resources. A couple of years later a truce was reached with the government when the residents agreed to pay for water and electricity in exchange for being left alone. Forchhammer uses archival footage to show these early years. On the soundtrack the audience hears his voice as he tells the story. Forchhammer supplements the archival footage with more recent events that he shot himself in Christiania, tracing the story all the way to the present.
Throughout the proceedings, only a few people are identified by name — mainly the politicians in opposition to and in conflict with the residents of Christiania. Forchhammer tells the story of the collective where the individual never shines. It’s the way of this community. Perhaps that’s why the filmmaker never explains the reason his parents left. However this communal story is juxtaposed with his personal recollections and a question lingers about whether he would join as an adult. Perhaps the film is his exploration to figure that out. In this tension and contradictions lies the narrative of “Christiania.”
In the voiceover Forchhammer says “Not every idea that came out of Christiania was great”. He has admiration of the concept of trying to create a utopia. However the film also shows much skepticism. Christiania became a haven of hash smokers, apt for the early 1970s. Yet as the years go by it also becomes a den of other drugs and all the trade and violence that that brings. The residents don’t have a structure of governance but make decisions through public meetings where everyone has a voice. As the film shows it, an imperfect system. Forchhammer tries to not cast judgement and stays focused on the story. However by choosing what to show — after all he can’t show every story that happened — he takes a side. The arguments about whether or not the drug peddlers should be banished becomes the central narrative thread.
There are other vivid events that carry the film forward entertainingly. The utopian side of Christiania is shown through the residents’ resistance against the government trying to shut them down in the mid-1970s. A tale of a drunk bear named Riike (yes you read that right) brings on the laughs in a tragicomic tall tale that Forchhammer tells using animation and archival footage. There are mentions of a thriving artistic and theater tradition. Those parts are given short shrift. The film only passingly mentions the queer denizens which is surprising because a place like this where people on the margins come together must have had thriving communities of othered people. Yet the “Christiania” POV remains strictly heteronormative.
Ultimately the documentary becomes Forchhammer’s tribute to a place he clearly admires while understanding its complexities. His voice is on the soundtrack in almost every frame. So a narrative about a community becomes a personal one about how to live a life. It’s a strong perspective, but perhaps not what the audience expects from a film about a community.
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