1864 - Brødre I Krig

The Napoleonic wars that raged through Europe in the early 19th century ravaged and damaged it psychologically. Nationalism, an ugly, divisive idea, became fashionable. So too aggression in the name of it. Even a small nation such as Denmark was afflicted by delusions of grandeur. By the mid-19th century there were political moralists, ideologues within Denmark, proclaiming that God loved Danes best, that he had chosen them by way of example to be special. This dangerous absurdity was peddled by the political class to increase its power. But the people as a whole began to believe and swallow it, followed by the usual social conditioning: flag waving, parades, patriotic songs, national pride, an expanding military. Even little Denmark would put its stamp on things in Europe, teaching the others what it is about.One of the others was Prussia, an expanding nationalist state in its own right, thus one eager to make its mark. Even in mid-century Germany was still disunited, a collection of small political states jealously guarding their own interests. Among them was Prussia, a rising star. The province in the northeast, united under Frederick the Great in the 18th century, was well organised, its bureaucracy efficient, its political class well informed and ambitious, its military modern, professional, well trained. A state on the verge of coming into its own.Behind this success was Bismarck, a charismatic, aristocratic Prussian politician with a fine military mind. To call him the German Churchill is not far-fetched. Certainly his influence was as great as that of Britain’s wartime leader. Politicians, the people, even the Kaiser himself (Kaiser Wilhelm I) rallied round him. Napoleon would soon be gone, exiled in ignominy after the debacle at Waterloo. Into that political void came Bismarck and his genius. Germany was on its way, its wars in Denmark (1864) and France (1870-71) the driving forces that helped unite it.Denmark may have been delusional, but it was also confident because in 1848-51 a first war with Prussia had been fought over the disputed southern territories of Schleswig and Holstein. Both Denmark and Germany had historical claims to the area. The majority of people in the northern province of Schleswig spoke Danish and thought of themselves as Danes, whereas most persons in Holstein (south of Schleswig) were Germanic and spoke German.In 1848, a crisis of sovereignty was growing in Holstein. Many in the Germanic duchy nominally controlled by Denmark believed the entire peninsula of Schleswig-Holstein was historically Germanic and thus belonged to Germany, or what would soon become a united Germany. Paying fealty to Copenhagen in any way became offensive to many living in Holstein. They wanted to free themselves from Danish domination and organised themselves militarily. In March 1848 roughly 7,000 soldiers from Schleswig-Holstein met an equal number of Danish soldiers near the city of Flensburg. The skirmishes that took place there were the spark that started the war. Soon thereafter Prussian and German troops arrived in support of the Schleswig-Holstein soldiers. The war was on.A major victory of Danish forces over the Prussian Army occurred at the Battle of Dybbøl Hill in southern Jutland in June 1848. This ought to have ended the war, but it only suspended military operations. Peace talks involving both Great Britain and Russia were conducted over the next few months. But they broke down, the truce ending in February 1849. Thereafter the war resumed in April that year. Danish victories led to another truce that was signed in July 1849. This knocked Prussia out of the war. But German forces carried on thereafter into 1850, fighting with the Schleswig-Holstein troops. Danish victories kept the Germans on the defensive throughout 1851. Most of the fighting had already stopped by the end of 1851, but the war did not officially end until all parties had signed the so-called London Protocol in May 1852, a document that many hoped would lay to rest all hostilities. Perhaps it would have, but we’ll never know. If the ideologues had not come to power in Copenhagen in the early 1860s perhaps the peace would have been permanent. As it is, people who believe God is on their side are capable of doing really stupid things.This is the background to the year 1864 in Denmark. Many of the events in the film take place at this time, though there are also modern sequences in present-day Denmark that cast light on the past.The nominal enemies in the story of 1864 are Prussia and its military ally Austria. They declared war on Denmark, marched into it, attacked it. But if anything the Prussians are portrayed positively. They are shown to be rational, reasonable, sensible, mature. Bismarck, von Moltke and the Kaiser are ambitious to be sure, but they are not rabid ideologues. They have a sense of proportion, see reality clearly, think and act calmly, deliberately. There is even a certain restraint they display, which may almost make them feel sympathetic to us. At first they are confused by the behaviour of Denmark. Where is the swell of nationalist sentiment coming from? Why is Denmark now refusing to honour the terms of the London treaty that ended the first Schleswig war of 1848-51? Why is it changing its Constitution, declaring that Schleswig and Holstein are rightful territories of Denmark that must be unified with it, legally amalgamated? How would a region of Germanic and German-speaking people (in Holstein) consider itself Danish? Why is Denmark champing at the bit for war?These were all reasonable questions in the minds of the Prussians. The Danes were clearly provoking, challenging them. They seemed to want war and thought they would win it. The Prussians dithered, trying to sort through what it all meant, trying to figure out how to proceed. After their overtures of diplomacy to Copenhagen failed they asked the British to intercede to prevent war. The British consented and did this. But the Danes were stubborn, seemed intent and adamant. The signals from Copenhagen to Berlin were strong. The new Constitution, enacted after the death of King Frederick in Denmark in 1863, was Denmark’s de facto declaration of war on Germany. No other interpretation was possible. Even Lord Palmerston, the British PM, and Queen Victoria, thought the Danes had gone mad.Perhaps they had. Ditlev Gothard Monrad, the Danish PM, was clearly unstable, a religious nut who daily prayed to the Christian God, the same god who told him in prayer that the Danish people were special, his chosen folk destined to rule Europe. Madness, but that’s religion for you, made even worse when combined with politics, two sides of the same bent coin.At one point Bismarck tries to describe the temperament of the Danes to the Kaiser, who is confounded by the situation. They are a romantic and sensitive people, Bismarck says, well-educated, liberal and idealistic, dreamers in a way. They love their Nordic myths and fairy tales. And though Bismarck doesn’t say so, the greatest Danish writer of the day was Hans Christian Andersen, a writer of fairy tales. Could they really be so innocent and naïve? Von Moltke wondered aloud about this to Bismarck, and there were probably moments when Bismarck wondered the same. It all seemed so suicidal, this determination to go to war, and, in the event, it practically was, Denmark nearly destroying itself.The film is narrated by Inge. Her voice comes from the pages of a journal she wrote in the 1850s and ‘60s. She was the daughter of the new estate manager for a local baron somewhere in rural Denmark. The baron owned most of the land. On it many of the local people lived as tenant farmers, leasing the land from him. Inge is 12 when she arrives with her family in this place, her father taking up his new position. The year is about 1852. The first Schleswig war has ended, Danish soldiers having returned home from it. The people rejoiced at Denmark’s triumph. But the soldiers came home weary and wounded, scarred by the war. For some the scars were physical, for others psychological.Thøger Jensen was a local farmer who fought. He returned with a serious leg wound. He can walk and push the plough but does so in pain. He and his wife Karen have two young sons, Laust (perhaps 12) and Peter (aged 10). Both are active and playful, though Peter is shy and bookish, whereas Laust is neither. They love each other, do everything together. They are what’s known as inseparable.Bright sunshine, summer warmth. Green fields, blue sea. The boys are playing, climbing trees and swinging from branches. Inge appears. First time, first meeting. She’s sassy, confident, beautiful. She wears a thin white cotton summer dress. Only it: no shoes, no sun bonnet. Silent at first, the boys eventually stir enough to speak their names when spoken to. They are country bumpkins. Inge is not. She’s something else, something exotic. A mermaid, perhaps, or a selkie. She dashes into the sea, splashing in the waves. She dares them to follow. They hesitate, smile, laugh a little, take off their shirts, run in after her. They play and frolic in the sea together, laughing and touching. And so it begins, their three-way love. The inseparable boys now have an inseparable girl. But three wheels, we know, don’t make the best design. Two are better. Even nature’s bi-lateral symmetry says so. But for now, in such great innocence, all is well. Only later, once childhood has vanished, will something have to give.Inge writes in her journal years later:“When I shut my eyes and capture time, I’m still a young girl. Even in front of the mirror. But when I open them, time escapes me. The years roll away, I lose my grip and plunge through life.”She also remembers that first day, the day she met Laust and Peter Jensen. The sun, the summer breezes, the sound of waves, her thin dress, the feel of the water on her skin. She falls crazily into the sea, daring the boys to dive in after her, rescue her. Afterwards in the hot yellow sun they lay in the tall green grass together, the boys with their shirts off still, she in the wet dress that clings to her slender body, salt from the sea drying on their bare skin. Feelings and sensations she couldn’t put into words then. But now, years later, she can:“Oh, to send back the clouds from where they came. And to stay here for all eternity. It felt as if time here stood still. If only time could stand still and we could live for eternity.”Youth, health, sunshine, eternity.It felt that way for her in the moment. And if we’re lucky we can think back to our own youths and remember moments just like it.War comes. They boys enlist. They’re young men now, not boys anymore. They’re tall and have to shave. They’re strong and look even stronger in their gallant blue uniforms. Inge is wet in the sea again. She’s a young woman now, no longer a girl. Laust and Peter are with her too again, their blue uniforms drenched by the waves. They hold Inge, share her, the sweetheart they will write to when they are away at war. Inge kisses Peter. Not a peck on the cheek. No. A real adult kiss, long-lasting, deep on his mouth, his body held close to hers. Peter turns away as she repeats the kiss, this time with Laust. It lasts long and he can’t bear to look, can’t stand the thought of someone else holding and kissing his girl, even if it’s the person he loves best in the whole world, his wonderful older brother Laust. It’s all so complicated — this war, the feuding nations, this girl, this love. How can it all be resolved? With pain and suffering and loss. Love and war, binary stars bound by gravity.Didrich, a calvary officer, is the only son and child of the local baron. He served in the first Schleswig war and came back a hero, his father intensely proud of him for upholding the family name. But Didrich is not what he seems, not the gallant and courageous soldier who fought hard in battle. In fact, far from it. His vivid war stories are lies. He ordered others to charge while he cowered and hid from engagement, hanging back toward the rear. He’s a fraud and failure and knows it, taking his shame and guilt out on others through continuous abuse, a gentleman by default, one in social rank and name only.In a modern arc of the story, the grandson of Didrich (Severin) now lives in the baronial mansion. The year may be 2012. Severin is old, half blind, senile, or nearly there. He’s been on his own in the mansion since his wife died years ago. The local council want him removed (for his own good) but he refuses, shotgun cocked in hand. No one is willing to approach him.His story dovetails with that of Claudia, a young dropout (perhaps 18 or 19) with no discernible means of employment via training, education or temperament. Dissatisfied and disaffected, she’s another loner in society. Gothic look, not that looks are everything: heavy mascara, raccoon-like around the eyes; metal rings in her ears, nose, lower lip; bleached blonde hair, the dark roots purposely showing. Message to all: keep your distance, not interested.With so few options open to her, Claudia is told by a local social counsellor about the old man in the baronial mansion. She balks at the thought of it, imagining how awful and dirty the job must be. But she changes her mind and visits, nearly getting shot for her trouble. But braving this, standing in front of the gun and insisting that the old man put it down probably impressed him. Nobody passes the shotgun test. No one but Claudia, that is. Thereafter he allows her to tend to him, making tea, sweeping up, doing the washing up. Menial work but she can do it away from the glare and judgements of society.The mansion is dusty and neglected, more like an old museum or gallery than a house. On the walls old sabres, rifles, pistols, flags, banners, paintings, tapestries. There’s also an old wooden chest. In it Claudia finds a handwritten diary. It’s Inge’s hand, the ink more than 150 years old. Why is it here? We don’t know at first, but all will be revealed as the drama proceeds.The narrative in the story partly follows the narrative in Inge’s journal. Claudia reads aloud from it to Severin, and to us. And as she does secrets from the distant past begin to inform her world now, making sense of things that have long confused her.In the stately drawing rooms of Copenhagen the war was an idea, a topic of dinner talk, a dream, a delusion. On the battlefields it was blood, suffering, despair, death. In the aftermath it was excuses, blame, grief, disgust. The politicians lost jobs, prestige, face. The soldiers lost legs, livelihoods, lives. All failed.Why was it fought?For glory.What glory?The glory of being special, chosen by God.One wants to say 19th century ideas of glory are dead and gone. But wars still wage in our small green world, a world on a rock circling a fire in the sky. If more thought of this, understood our place in the cosmos, would there be more decency and fewer wars? Would we be more intelligent, tolerant, sensitive?The mini-series is a saga, so of course it’s far-fetched at times: implausible events, unlikely coincidences. There’s also a touch of magic realism to it. One Danish soldier, a sort of guardian angel, is a mystic and psychic who performs small miracles in battle and later back home. There’s also a Danish officer named Dinesen, possibly related to the writer Karen Blixen (whose real name was Karen Dinesen, though she also used the pen name Isak Dinesen). He’s nicknamed the Immortal One by his men for his courage in combat and his uncanny ability to survive it. He does so with aplomb, not a scratch on him, his sabre slicing through Prussians as through cake or Swiss cheese, his face and tunic splattered with blood — theirs, never his. Yes, comic book stuff at times. But amid so much excellence, it’s forgivable.Also, it’s long: three discs, 8 episodes, each episode 60 mins. in length. Not surprising, then, that it’s uneven, dragging at times. The Danish political meetings can be dull and some of the battle scenes go on way too long, as if we needed more blood to remind us that war is unpleasant, best avoided.But quibbling can go on endlessly, needlessly. The epic scope and ambition of the production is supported by these numbers:Cast members: 102Extras used: 270Hours on set: 18,000Production budget: $37 million (highest ever for a Danish television series)Magnificent production and it shows, obscure history brought brilliantly, meaningfully to life. I learned so much!

Excellent Danish made for tvwar film. Based on the 1864 warBetween Denmark and prussia/Austria.The plot revolves around two brotherswho joined the army,involved also is a a girl who both brothers love and becomes a viciouse triangle. Their company commander who was a coward in the last war is forced to re enlist by his father a baron /mayor as to redeem himself.The danes take a constant pummeling through the war which makes them retreat from town to town. The fighting is brutal and bloody and gives you a wake up call andPortraying the abject terror that the troops from both sides feel during the fighting the scenes of the wounded is very realistic and confirms that war is not a game or adventure as portrayed as the young soldiers felt as they marched off to the warAlso included is a phsycic who fire seesDanger before it happensA major plot involves a 150 year jumpfrom time to time with a goth type girl bordering on a penniless and starving situation she's sent as a last resort to look after a invalide in a mansion she finds diarys from the war which she relates to the story. So the series jumps back and for through the seriesThe Danish military commanders who seem a bit humane as they care about Their soldiers where as the politicians dont, so where they can try to retreat When facing huge odds against themI nice touch is where the prussians try phsycology approach by using a military hand to try and drive the danes nuts, the danes resolve this by sending out a hit squads to wipe out the band.....Danish audio English subtitlesBrilliant series first shown on bbc4

I cannot recommend this series highly enough... I found it excellent in every aspect: the writing, directing, photography, acting, the music score. It is deeply moving and brought me to tears in several moments.As a period piece it has no rival; it is head and shoulders above any other historical series in TV. It is certainly of much better artistic quality than The Tudors, Rome, and The Vikings series, for instance. It is actually difficult to compare with anything else ever made for TV.It is a series for adults, treating serious themes seriously, and with powerful messages about the stupidity and horrors of war, and the delusions and vanity of politicians; though it is set in Denmark, Germany and the UK in the 1850's and 1860's, most of it applies to situations in the US and Europe in the beginning of the 21st Century: it is a real masterpiece.I really find it hard to understand why some people gave it a low rating... Perhaps it was too profound, too serious, too disturbing? It's certainly not a popcorn & soda production to help you escape reality: it is more a wake-up call to escape escapism. The war scenes were indeed realistic and horrible as real war is; no adolescent glorification of combat. Indeed, the series denounces the naivety of young people joyfully marching off into war as if it were a picnic, and then being scarred by it forever.As for the alternation between past and present, I did not find it confusing; I found it gave the audience time for reflection and for making the very important connections between past and present, between history and present-day disenchantment, between millennials and a much older generation. I could easily see long debates going on about the messages the series conveys, addressing issues of personal and national identity, the roles of religious and political leaders, the meaning of heroism. You could easily have a whole graduate course organised around these 8 chapters.In the end, I was sad to see it finish; yet it was correctly proportioned from beginning till end. The last chapter was not rushed (which is often the case with made for TV productions) and it left me wishing all series were as good as this one.