 A film in three minutes, Festun. When you think about the concept of family, what usually springs to mind, rousing heartfelt moments shared over a Christmas turkey or birthday cake, traditional sing songs or those same old anecdotes a drunk uncle or racist grandparent loves to share? Or what if, for you, the concept of family meant hiding something from the truth, perhaps keeping a dark, secret berry deep inside to never be let out? Whatever your views, the idea of a large get-together of relations out in the countryside may sound like the perfect weekend to some, but for others, such an occasion could be interpreted as a form of hell, especially when the patriarch of said family is hiding something from everyone. Thomas Vinterberg's 1998 masterpiece Festun is an exploration of such questions, taking us as the viewer on a journey into the politics, frayed nerves and sibling rivalries of a successful, if neurotic, middle-class family that is about to enter meltdown. The story follows the family's free grown-up children, Christian, Michael and Elsa, who travel to their father Helga's hotel mansion to celebrate his 60th birthday. Joined with them are countless extended family members and in-laws, all of whose lives appear to be intrinsically linked to Helga's success at the family-run hotel. What starts as a pleasant, if somewhat chaotic reunion between the dysfunctional siblings quickly turns into a nightmarish circus after Christian makes a speech that no one present will ever forget. Festun was the first feature film to be produced under the artistic rules of the Dogma 95 Manifesto, a cinematic movement spearheaded by Danish directors Lars von Trier and the before mentioned Vinterberg. For a film to be considered a dogma production, several rules must be strictly followed, shooting must be done on location with no use of non-digetic music or sound, the camera must be handheld at all times, and any kind of optical or special effects must be avoided completely to name but a few of the Manifesto's stringent limitations. This gives Festun a presentation of authentic documentary filmmaking, as we watch each of the family members struggle to come to terms with Christian's revelations with a kind of fly-on-the-wall perspective. The performances from the main cast and extras excel at adding to the sense of claustrophobic horror as the night progresses, turning the setting of an idyllic grandiose hotel with its ornate dining room into a gilded prison for the family to become trapped in. Festun can be interpreted as a black comedy, family drama, or as a psychological exploration into the mind of a person who has experienced trauma. But Vinterberg's direction makes the final piece appear more like an amalgamation of all three, leaving us as drained and perplexed as the family guests become after an earthshattering night. Despite Dogma's success as a movement being limited to only a small family of filmmakers, Festun acts as arguably the best introduction to this unique style of filmmaking for first-time viewers. Its story will stay with you for many years to come, and will probably make you grateful for your own family, faults and all, after witnessing the dysfunction and secrecy of this one.