Søren Green | Glasskår (B.O.Y.: Bruises of Yesterday) / 2024

fragments of glass

by Douglas Messerli

 

Søren Green and Tomas Lagermand Lundme (screenplay), Søren Green (director) Glasskår (B.O.Y.: Bruises of Yesterday) / 2024

 

I have long been an admirer of the short films of Danish director Søren Green, featuring essays on his major short films, An Afternoon (2014), An Evening (2016), October Boy (2018), and A Night (2020), focused on very young boys who are gradually discovering that they are queer, delighted and frightened at the very same moment as they attempt to deal with their differences without becoming defined by them by their classmates and peers.

     All of these works were beautifully filmed and poignant expressions of the angst of youth beginning to discover their estranged positions in the world. But I was in no way prepared for the raw power and full expression of those concerns and even greater ostracization felt by the young, beautiful curly-haired Tobias (Noa Risbro Hjerrild) in his first feature movie, whose Danish title, Glasskår, meaning “Shreds of Glass” I far prefer over the English language title B.O.Y.: Bruises of Yesterday. Any bruises—a polite world for rejection and isolation—this boy might feel are from today, not “yesterday,” and the real issue is not just the mental effects of child abuse (not physical in this case), but of the slow recognition of a boy having not only to discover that he is queer, but that there is utterly no one on which he might lean for love and support. Any “bruises” this boy might suffer physically are bloody encounters with his hands against glass and other surfaces, mostly self-inflicted as a result of the mental distress in which he elders have placed him. And they are very much of the harsh present he perceives through his personal observations and through the windows as he peers in on his own previous home.

     The boy begins the film already feeling alone and abused, in a small skate-board park where he over and over attempts dangerous jumps and flips. As any young skateboarder must know, he fails over and over and he attempts to improve his skills. But it is a frustrating process as a loner perhaps forcing himself to learn the only skill this young 16-year-old believes he possesses.

      He returns home only to find his mother (Iben Dorner), reporting that she has suddenly found a temporary job in Italy, and must leave him in the hands of his maternal grandparents, his loving grandfather (Jens Jørn Spottag) and his beloved grandmother (Bodil Jørgensen). His grandfather, significantly, is a glazier, a man who replaces the blown up and broken windows on the island of Langeland, a summer tourist designation, where the grandparents live.

      If his grandfather seems somewhat stern, it quickly becomes apparent that he is an extremely loving man, trying to enlist his grandson’s help and involve him in the glazier’s artistry. But Tobias also discovers that since he last saw his grandmother, she has descended into deep dementia, with her husband having to observe her every movement. She too, is finally shipped off to a nearby nursing home since there is no way the working man can look after her every hour as he needs to.

      Meanwhile, Tobias, with his skateboard as a method of travel, explores the island, discovering a men’s bathroom in the woods where he encounters a handsome young, but far older, painter, Aron (Alexander Mayah Larsen) to whom he is immediately attracted. The feeling is mutual, and the two strike up a flirtatious relationship. Tobias, lying about it age, claiming he is 19, finds a possible lover in the older Aron, but whenever it gets to the level of actual sexual involvement, Aron pulls away, and with good reason.

      Although Tobias simply sees him as a friend, he is too inexperienced to perceive that Aron was not just accidentally at the bathroom in the woods, but involved as a male prostitute there, a place where older men come to pick up people like him. Tobias, still a child, cannot perceive the reality, however, and believes their relationship might lead to his first sexual encounter, as he keeps texting Aron and tries to arrange for a meetup.

      But suddenly, in an even worse series of events, his grandmother becomes seriously ill, and now, to be close to his wife in her last dying days, even he must send the boy away. By coincidence, Tobias’ real father (Paw Henriksen), who has remarried, now has a prepubescent daughter, and a seemingly quite happy life since he’s left Tobias’ mother is living in a rental space on the island as they vacation there for the summer.

     The father is happy to reconnect, but it is quite clear that Tobias—obviously still hurt by his abandonment and by the things he has been told by his mother—is resentful, as is the father’s new daughter. The wife, although friendly, doesn’t quite know how to respond to the former son who seems quite and moody. They have rented, moreover, a rather large all-glass house, with an indoor swimming pool, in which the family—the father’s new family—are engaged in a pleasant game-ball activities, further making Tobias feel like a true outsider—which, in fact, he truly is.

     Skateboard in motion, he rushes back to see Aron, visiting him in his own house and basically attempting to seduce him. It almost appears as if he will finally succeed until Aron notices that the boy has already begun actions of self-harm: his fingers are bloody where he attempted to punch a steel wall, he has begun to carve scars into his arm.

     Realizing that he cannot but do further harm to this beautiful boy, he too pulls away once more, leaving the confused and inexpressive Tobias feeling yet again rejected by the adult world into which he seeks entry.

      Throughout these experiences, Tobias has been attempting to make contact with his mother, who finally tells him to stop trying to communicate with her, that she is busy with her new job. Tobias, now a true outcast in his mind, gets back on the train and returns to his home which imagines will be empty a dark, but perhaps still a last refuge.

      What he discovers is the worst of all betrayals. Inside he can see from his position, his mother remains with a new boyfriend. She has obviously sent him away so that she can enjoy her sexual pleasures with a man she has met; she has never gone off to Italy to work.

     With no other choice, he calls his grandfather who arrives by car, and seeing what is happening, enters the house declaring to his daughter has had “so many chances.” Obviously, she too is a kind of whore, another adult who has lied to her son. The father may have left her because of her own unfaithfulness; but it doesn’t matter: her sexual needs have outweighed any love she has for her son.

       His gentle grandfather brings him back to his home. By this time the grandmother has died, and they attend the funeral. Even though they are in-laws, his father and new family show up for the funeral, but Tobias’ mother cannot be bothered.

       What began as mild outrage now begins to be acted out in other ways. He punches out the picture of his mother as a young woman hanging over his bed.

     Another young man he has also encountered at the bathrooms, Jonas (Jonathan Bergholdt), also male sex worker who has previously rebuffed him. Now Tobias approaches him asking him to help him become involved in that world.

        For the older trolling gay men on this island, the beautiful young flesh of Tobias is a true draw, and before long, Tobias also is picked up by cars and fucked by the older men, bringing in a sum of money. When his grandfather finally finds the sizable sum in the pockets of his clothing, he demands and explanation, the boy shouting out the truth that he fucking old men like him and being paid for the act, claiming that he really loves it, has grown accustomed to wrinkled old cocks.

    He continues, but one night, again encountering Aron in the facility, he punches out the park bathroom mirror, revealing the fragmented, shattered being he now perceives himself to be. Almost exhausted, now in serious condition he collapses into Jonas’ arms, his self-destruction almost coming to an end.

    An ambulance is called and Tobias is sped away, finally finding himself in a medical clinic where he is given proper counsel, understanding, and love. Eventually, he arrives back in his grandfather’s house to apologize for his behavior, the grandfather apologizing to boy for not being sensitive enough his needs. It is clear that these two lonely beings have both found a way to a real love.

     If you expect this film to have a coherent narrative, you’ve missed the point. The boy’s life has previously never allowed any coherency. Almost every adult he has met has sent him away, lied to him, betrayed his love. It is a truly broken world for Tobias of no logic. And there can be no easy solutions. In this special Danish world, however, he has been given proper treatment, and with time he will perhaps move back to Copenhagen or some other Danish city to find someone of his age to share his life. But Green makes no promises; his camera focuses on the shards, the pieces of life this young man must pick up and toss away before he can again move forward, played out in a scene that depicts precisely those acts.

     Several Letterboxd commentators say that they can never again watch this movie. And believe me, it is a truly painful experience to endure. But the young actor Hjerrild is so convincing both in his confusion and resilience, and the grandfather so endlessly loving that you end the film feeling hope instead of despair.

     This is another brilliant movie that is rare these days.

 

Los Angeles, September 22, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (September 2026).