The notion of struggling to understand one’s place in the world is something we often see through teenage lenses in the land of film. At the epicentre of coming-of-age films are usually, characters that are literally becoming of age; they boast naivete to the difficulties of adulthood but face their own plights in transitioning between being blissfully unaware of the world and being thrown face-first into it. There is an intuitive appeal in watching someone beginning to understand themselves; the glory in watching an adolescent blossom as they face their demons and start to settle into themselves.

But what happens when you’re halfway through life, and still have no clue what your place in the world is or who you are in it? What if you never seized the ‘aha!’ moments we see in A24 movies or the catharsis that holds you back from becoming the person you’ve always envisioned yourself becoming?

It is that precise search for meaning that binds ‘Another Round’, Thomas Vinterburg’s 2020 tragicomedy, together. Despite being named ‘Druk’ in Danish (translating quite literally to binge drinking), the film surpasses what might have been a holier-than-thou lecture on the perils of alcoholism. Brought into the world of four men battling mid-life crises, we get a front-row seat to a journey of chaotic inebriation in a supposed scientific effort. Vinterburg presents ‘Another Round’ as not a drunken cautionary tale, but as a pronounced look at friendship, life’s mundanity, and human fallibility that is ironically sobering.

Deep into middle-age, we are introduced to a group of Danish high school teachers who lack a zest for life. Martin, Peter, Tommy, and Nikolaj (Mads Mikkelsen, Lars Ranthe, Thomas Bo Larsen, and Magnus Millang respectively) find themselves in a boundless loop of routine and pragmatism, as fathers or husbands for the most part. Mads’ character Martin, is most notably dulled in all aspects of his life. He unenthusiastically teaches a History class (which even his students can tell he barely has a passing interest in) and comes home to a relationship with a wife that neither pays much attention to. It is a glance into a grave universal fear; a life of tedious, repetitive sequences underpinned by adult responsibilities and commitments.

A celebration of Nikolaj’s fortieth birthday prompts a vulnerable moment between the four. Downing glasses of expensive wine, the group gradually open up to each other – leaving Martin in particular with a sore moment of realisation at his unhappiness. In an effort to divert, the group jokingly discuss a theory by psychiatrist Finn Skårderud, which proposes that humans are born with a 0.05% BAC level deficit and should be striving to maintain a constant ‘buzz’ to optimise their quality of life.

Though discarded by the rest of the group as jest, Martin takes on this knowledge and privately begins to ‘test’ this hypothesis during school hours. The four then decide to conduct their own self-controlled experiment, aiming to stay at 0.1% BAC to alleviate stress and enhance the enjoyment of their day-to-day. Mild parameters to their experiment set (no drinking after 8pm or on weekends), the four embark on their expedition into constant bouts of drinking. And oh, what an expedition it becomes.

Into the chaotic yet gloriously fun game that is binge drinking we are propelled into. Vinterburg may have abandoned the Dogme manifesto (a movement to purify the art of film-making by focusing on the core aspects of storytelling, rather than added special effects) but his disposition towards handheld camerawork echoes Dogme. It is the shaky, sloppy cinematography in the moments these men lose themselves to intoxication that entrances you in the beauty of drinking; you almost feel like a fifth member of the group during the boozy pandemonium.

The whirlwind of their experimentation spills over into other facets of the teachers’ lives – their teaching becomes infectious, electrifying classrooms and injecting passion lesson by lesson. Martin starts to rekindle the bond with his family he had been yearning for, ferociously celebrating his life again. Between swigs, drunken stumbles and belly laughter, you stop to consider; perhaps they have finally chased their youth down.

But it is hard to limit a good thing; especially before it topples into self-sabotage. Descending into inevitable dysfunction, the groups’ unrelenting dependency on drunkenness becomes more than just the chase of happiness. It breaks bonds they sought to mend, only temporarily patching up the roots of much deeper issues that were never going to be healed by their ‘experiment’.

‘Another Round’ lets us flirt with the idea of alcohol, while we digest both the celebration of life and the undoubtedly low lows it brings. Vinterburg doesn’t allow ‘Another Round’ to provide a finite stance on intoxication, which might be the film’s biggest strength. It provides a holistic glance at drinking and the inherent paradox it lures us into. Both sides of the coin shine through; the state of numbed cloudiness alcohol provides exists, just as it’s destructive, reinforcing cycle does.

In Vinterburg’s cinematic world, drinking is by nature both beautiful and ugly at the same time. Authentically raw and heartfelt, ‘Another Round’ makes binge drinking look like a frenzy of colour in a world that feels grey. Perhaps it is ultimately nothing but a band-aid over large wounds. But it can sure be a hell of a time to plaster on.