The Guest Is More Than Welcome

The tables are set, the place names written down, the families gathered for a long weekend of festivities and joy, assembled to celebrate the christening of newborn Elliott (Buster Lund Lüscher). All seems tranquil in a beautiful Danish hotel by the sea. But something is rotten in this serene state, etc, etc. Elliot’s estranged grandmother, Vibeke (Trine Dyrholm), has turned up out of nowhere, threatening to turn this magical event upside down. 

In an early presager to the tone of The Guest (Mads Mengel, 2026) — which very much operates in classic Danish everyone-is-socially-inept mode —  the camera cuts frantically between Vibeke’s cheeriness and the blank, panicking stare of her son Karl (Simon Bennebjerg). Through cross-cutting alone, we understand just how unwelcome Vibeke is, secretly invited by Karl’s brother Rikke (Josephine Park). 

Considering Dyrholm’s presence and the potential for a familial celebration to be upset by unwelcome intrusions, Festen (Thomas Vinterberg, 1998) immediately comes to mind. 

And yes, it is shot in a classic Dogme 95 style — handheld cameras, little zooms, frantic focus reracking, quick pans. Yet while the classics of the genre were known for their dry wit and awkwardness, puncturing all kinds of social norms, The Guest is a tad more sentimental, pushing beyond wry observation and into melancholy territory. This is bolstered by the soundtrack from Lasse Aagaard, which starts upbeat and frivolous before pushing for more emotive power chords.

And while The Guest never matches the chaotic, freewheeling energy of Vinterberg’s masterpiece, there are pleasures to be had in its ambiguous tone. It is clear that Vibeke, who raised Karl and Rikke alone, is suffering from some kind of mental illness — her sectioning is mentioned several times — yet one cannot gauge just how much she may or may not have improved. Mengel and Christian Bengtson’s screenplay is happy to live in that not-knowing, shifting between Vibeke’s flittish moods and her resolve to be a better mother to her traumatised children. Utilising her trademark vulnerability, the veteran Danish actress is a master at emotional manipulation, both of the cast around her and of audience expectations. 

At one point, I wondered if The Guest was happy to avoid the usual meltdowns associated with the genre and point towards conventional family drama. Something a little more measured. A little more Norwegian, perhaps. But eventually, the conventions of national cinema prevail, and we witness all kinds of look-through-your-fingers meltdowns, Dryholm chewing the scenery with typical aplomb. 

What’s more impressive is how Madsen manages to reconcile both its sentimentality and its more explosive elements, leading to an ending all the more affecting due to just how hard-won it is. This uniquely unhappy family might seem like it’s constantly falling apart, but the willingness of its characters to try and see through each other’s flaws gives The Guest a welcome sense of maturity.