The inclusion of an African American character in Thomas Vinterberg’s 1998 film Festen (see previous post) is a curious thing. First I should make clear that the character is indeed an American man of African descent, not a black Dane, or an African immigrant (an important distinction).
In the middle of Helge’s birthday dinner, sister Helene’s boyfriend Gbatokai (played by Gbatokai Dakinah*) arrives outside in a cab. Surprise! He’s black! Thinking he’s a hotel guest come to rent a room, brother Michael runs out to send him away, and is ridiculously offensive. Poor Michael can’t stop trying to prove his masculinity. He makes a fool of himself once again attempting to defend an institution that will soon be proved a sham and a king that will topple. “Hey Charlie Brown!” he shouts (at least he’s a creative bigot). He continues to flail around throwing racial slurs here and there “We don’t need any jazz players”, until Helene comes out, calls Michael a “Nazi bastard” and escorts her man inside.
The tension between Michael and Gbatokai continues of course, as Michael does everything in his power to cast out the intruder, including prompting a table-wide rendition of a racist Danish childrens’ song. It makes sense that Michael should have such a strong reaction to Gbatokai’s presence as Helene’s boyfriend, and a black person in general. More than any other, Michael wants to keep things in their proper place. Nothing should be disrupted . This is the only power he has, and the only way he knows to win his father’s respect. Michael is also the kind of man to jump at the opportunity to place someone beneath him. It gives him the elevation he so desperately desires. The lower he places Gbatokai, the higher he rises.
The other night I forced my dear friend Jessie talk to me about Festen and Gbatokai. Jessie’s Mother is Danish of mixed descent (her mother is a white Dane and her father was Ghanaian). Jessie is fluent in Danish and has spent a great deal of time in Denmark where she and her sister receive plenty of stares when out with “mormor”, their tiny white grandmother. At Jessie’s birthday party a few years ago they all sang the “Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah” birthday song and I shouted “Ooo it’s just like in ‘The Celebration!!!’”
