Netflix’s Forgotten 6-Part Noir Thriller Series Is One of Its Best Hidden Gems

Nicolas Winding Refn is a filmmaker who has attracted as much criticism as he has praise, but nothing he’s ever been involved with could be accused of being dull. Refn’s polarizing style of highly mannered, methodical neo-noir storytelling might not be for everyone, but it’s hard to argue that he doesn’t have an eye for craftsmanship and can make visually arresting sequences. The prestige era of television has seen more movie directors dip their toes into the medium, and Refn first attempted to make that transition with his divisive Prime Video neo-Western Too Old To Die Young. Although that show had production values as excellent as one might expect from Refn, it felt closer to a collection of experimental movies than a cohesive series. However, Refn’s now-forgotten Netflix series Copenhagen Cowboy is a wonderful modern noir with striking narrative and aesthetic choices.

Despite the fact that he has often worked with English-language actors on films that are set in America or the United Kingdom, Refn is a Danish filmmaker, and Copenhagen Cowboy is his first Danish-language project since the Pusher trilogy starring Mads Mikkelsen, a spiritual, supernatural neo-noir set in Denmark’s criminal underworld and follows the young psychic Miu (Angela Bundalovic) as she avoids shady powerbrokers who attempt to utilize her abilities for evil. While it might be hard to determine how much of Copenhagen Cowboy is literal and how much is metaphorical, the fact that the series encourages such thoughtful discourse is proof of its value. Rarely does a show feel like it has both created its own language and refuses to tone down its excess.

Netflix’s ‘Copenhagen Cowboy’ Is Unlike Any Other Revenge Show

Copenhagen Cowboy is a refreshing take on the neo-noir genre because the series is unapologetic in its supernatural qualities and offers commentary about how fairy tales have obscured reality. Miu is considered to be a “good luck” charm, but that isn’t necessarily a virtue when criminal enterprises desire her powers for the sake of their own goals; ironically, being someone who has the ability to improve someone’s fortune has made her life even more dangerous. While Refn very much takes the mythology of curses, ancient rituals, and transformations seriously, there is also a metaphorical message about the way that the world preys upon young women; Miu is desired by characters like Rosella (Dragana Milutinović) and her husband Sven (Per Thiim Thim) because of her youth, which is itself a novelty within the dangerous world of drug dealing and money laundering. It’s a dynamic depiction of the terror felt by young women, but Copenhagen Cowboy turns the tables by giving Miu the power to lead the story and make her own decisions.

Although he became known for getting great performances from established movie stars like Elle Fanning and Ryan Gosling, Refn pulled off an amazing feat in assembling his cast for Copenhagen Cowboy, as it consists primarily of unknowns. There’s little time spent on exposition because of the mystical way in which the show’s logic operates, but Refn found actors who are able to bring history and humanity to his characters. Andreas Lykke Jørgensen gives a striking breakout performance because his character, Nicklas, is essentially the counterpoint of Miu; he shares her powers, but has become selfish and narcissistic because he grew up with privilege and has never had to learn to be independent. The legendary Croatian character actor Zlatko Burić, who just recently gave a great performance in Wonder Man, is perfectly cast as the shady lawyer Miroslav, who is willing to serve anyone in the underworld if it is for the right price; the eccentricity Burić brings to a truly strange performance indicates that Refn is self-aware of how inherently silly the world of Copenhagen Cowboy is, and is willing to lampoon its aura of self-seriousness.

‘Copenhagen Cowboy’ Is Auteur Television at Its Finest

It’s depressing to hear how many modern shows are created for viewers who only watch them passively, which makes it exciting that Copenhagen Cowboy is a visual masterpiece that is surprisingly beautiful, despite its ugly subject material. Given that Miu is a character in search of lightness when the world feels obscured by darkness, it makes sense that Refn’s directorial style would adhere to her perspective. Although it’s possible to enjoy Copenhagen Cowboy as a nearly silent experience, it’s made even more enthralling thanks to the amazing score by Cliff Martinez, who has worked with Refn on films like Drive and Only God Forgives.

Copenhagen Cowboy is a show that proves the virtue of streaming services like Netflix because it is a niche project aimed at a very specific section of arthouse cinephiles and doesn’t attempt to “soften” itself for the sake of appeasing the average viewer. At the same time, those who hadn’t previously been engaged with Refn’s work might find that Copenhagen Cowboy is a “gateway” experience that encourages them to look into his cinematic output. Refn has been rather open about the struggles he’s faced in finding funding for his work, especially given how much backlash he earned for something as divisive (albeit brilliant) as Only God Forgives. If anything, Copenhagen Cowboy indicates that he might have found his calling on television, as it’s a medium that best suits his priorities as a storyteller.