In what used to be the hunting meadow of the Danish kings, an eighty year old gent named Martin has set up home. He has lived on a ramshackle old houseboat for the last two decades, but instead of rustic charm surrounding him, it’s a rubbish tip. It is actually the main depository for garbage for Copenhagen’s million-odd population. He largely has the place to himself where he scavenges what he can amidst the gulls, rotting waste, rusting cars - there’s even an old tram car that he attempts to cannibalise. Martin is a smart and erudite man, he’s no dosser and is remarkably adept at making his living from the tons of stuff his fellow citizens no longer want. The workers carry on their jobs around him, leaving him to rummage or just to sit in his deckchair reading an almost inexhaustible supply of reading matter. In his own way, he has a civilisation of his own and his narration coupled with some basic camerawork give us just a little insight into how he became a man of the dump and into why he chooses to remain living the life he does. With modern eyes, it’s also quite a savage indictment of just how cavalier human society is when it comes to disposing of things it no longer needs. So much out of sight out of mind, it’s breathtaking.

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