Efter brylluppet opens with a high angle shot of a structure that slightly resembles the Flatiron Building in Manhattan, but the glazed terra-cotta has been replaced with barren concrete, the streets filled with trash not taxis. The subsequent establishing shots further depict the abject poverty of this wasteland. We are quickly introduced to Jacob Pederson (Mads Mikkelsen, known to Western audiences as Le Chiffre in Casino Royale) who is serving food to children in the shanties of Bombay. Jacob runs an orphanage that is low on funds but that is on the verge of resuscitation from a wealthy Danish businessman; all he asks is that Jacob return to Copenhagen and shake his hand. Initially, Jacob refuses to make the trip back to his homeland, decrying the well-to-do types that insist on having their pictures taken with large checks.
The businessman, played by Rolf Lassgård, is briefly introduced through a quick cut to city, where he is ominously peering out a window. This begins a series of visual clues that are introduced by the director Susanne Bier. They can be quickly forgotten as the film moves along but their subjects will play a major role in the narrative of the film. These aren’t clues that we, as viewers, are asked to assemble, but rather, they are indicative of an objective point-of-view. We are shown fragments of a larger picture that will be developed. By doing this, Bier creates an element of tension that so many current films lack. This brief shot also displays Bier’s mastery of visual storytelling. As the man stands at a window overlooking the city, the audio track continues and Jacob is being told he must travel to Denmark to meet this man. There is something disconcerting about the businessman’s expression and his unalterable demand for Jacob’s presence. Bier doesn’t have to relay the message through voice-over or dialogue.
Once Jacob arrives in Denmark, he checks into a luxury hotel being paid for by Jørgen, the mysterious businessman. As a hotel employee shows Jacob around his sweet, what is trivial moment acquires significance through its ordinariness. There is a mini-bar and if that’s not enough there is a cabinet stocked with full bottles, not to mention a sauna and a remote control for the window shades. The young hotel worker presents each new amenity as something everyone should expect. The exuberant décor strongly contrasts with the decaying slums of Bombay. This amplifies the immediate tension between the two men and their different worlds. Is this going to be a story about corruption or the dichotomy of wealth?
As Jørgen is properly introduced as a loving father and husband, the conception of him as a menacing businessman diminishes, yet, the initial tension remains. What does he want? After their first meeting, it is clear that Jørgen has no real interest in the orphanage. The meeting is not merely a formality. Apparently, the decision to fund Jacob's orphanage has not been decided and as Jacob delivers his presentation, Jørgen spends much of this time replenishing his glass of whiskey. But, he does manage to invite Jacob to his daughter’s wedding the following day. It is, as the title suggests, after the wedding when the plot begins to thicken.
Any further details would spoil the film, but it is worth noting that the initial work Bier lays out in the opening scenes establishes just the right tone and even as we are being led down a newly formed plot line, a certain tension remains. We are constantly questioning the narrative even as the story appears to come together.
Without giving any explicit details, I can say that whatever can go wrong does go wrong. I would be hard-pressed to name another film that is as emotionally taxing as After the Wedding. Many directors, even bad ones, are able to capitalize on cinema’s inherit relationship with emotions. Usually, all it takes is a cue to the orchestra and perhaps some screaming here or there. But Bier’s film is able to escape this sentimentality by keeping its focus on the characters. The emotions here are real. We experience them with the characters—they are earned. However, the film doesn’t feel like an exercise in character study. There is a tendency in "serious" films today (as well as literature) to focus solely on characters, forsaking the narrative. After the Wedding demonstrates how truly great films present interesting characters but also tell a good story—and trust me; this is a good story.
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