After watching Lars Von Trier’s
Antichrist I immediately wanted to check out the director’s other works. The film was incredibly controversial at the Cannes Film Festival, where it was heavily criticized for its violence and apparent misogamy. I almost dismissed the film outright because of these criticisms, but I’m glad I didn’t. The film was surreal and provocative and beautiful. It really won me over... even if I didn’t quite understand much of any of it.
I watch a lot of indie films, but before this I had no interest in Von Trier. Maybe because the
dogme movement he founded always sounded pretentious to me, or because of an old Ebert & Roeper
At The Movies review I watched that dismissed Von Trier's
Dogville for being boring and anti-American. But now I wanted to see more of this cinematic bad boy's work. I watched four of his most infamous and/or popular films:
Breaking The Waves, Dancer In The Dark, Dogville, and
Manderlay.
And I liked and loved them, if only because they did to me something I look for in all the pop cultural artefacts I consume: they provoked me and made me feel something, be it shock or simple empathy. All of these films got a reaction out of me even more fulfilling than what I got out of
Antichrist. In fact, I was actually surprised at how different they were from
Antichrist, which was surreal and dream-like. These films, on the other hand, are all tightly written and very precise in their execution and intent. All of them are slow and unfold organically and naturally. Here are my thoughts in more detail:
Dogville & Manderlay
Dogville was my favourite of the bunch, and mostly because of the audacious ending, which involved a shocking character twist that I felt the film completely earned. A few months ago
Quentin Tarantino listed it as one of his favourite movies of the last 17 years, declaring his belief that it's one of the greatest film scripts ever written and that, had it been a stage production, it would have won a Pulitzer. I don't know if that's true or not, but I do agree the script is amazing. It's an incredibly literate story that, I believe, acts as an allegory for the immigrant experience in America.
Nicole Kidman plays Grace, a stranger-on-the-run in the 1930's who seeks refuge in a small dead-end town. She strikes a deal with the townspeople to hide her from the gangsters and the authorities who keep rolling into the town looking for her. However, circumstances slowly bring out the cruelty of the townspeople, a natural cruelty that, it can be argued, we’re all capable of possessing.
The ending is what makes this movie. Kidman spends the entire movie being quietly understanding and passive, and one illuminating conversation with her father, the amazing James Caan, brings out a whole new person. It's shocking, and a little unnerving in that we maybe don't entirely disagree with her immoral actions.
Dogville is the first part of a proposed trilogy, von Trier’s
“U.S. Land of Opportunities” trilogy, of which
Manderlay is the second part. They share the same lead character, the same story structure and narrator, and the same minimalist, stage-like sets.
Manderlay begins directly after
Dogville, with Grace now played by Bryce Dallas Howard. And while it didn’t have the same visceral impact on me that
Dogville had, it was still a very unsettling and affecting commentary on another particular aspect of American history: the slavery of African-Americans and the post-slavery world they subsequently lived in. The film begins with Grace traipsing upon the town of Manderlay, a city that still enslaves African-Americans 70 years after the abolition of slavery. When Mam, the leader of the enslaved community, dies of old age, a self-righteous Grace attempts to help guide and transition the confused and aimless community of Africans into their new lives as free citizens.
From there the movies makes a lot of uncomfortable and provocative statements about African-Americans, white people, and slavery. Are these statements all true? I don’t know, but they definitely fascinated me! And the shock of an ending with the innocent, well-meaning Grace again showing a dark side was pretty telling...
Breaking The Waves & Dancer In The Dark
These two films are two parts of another of Von Trier's trilogies, his "
Golden Hearts" series, which are about
"naive heroines who maintain their 'golden hearts' despite the tragedies they experience." And, yeah, these sweet, innocent, and unassuming heroins--Emily Watson in
Breaking The Waves and Bjork in
Dancer In The Dark--definitely suffer in these films. Their performances are also absolutely amazing (I was particularly surprised by Bjork -- I had no idea she had it this kind of performance in her!).
In
Breaking The Waves Watson plays Bess, a child-like and slightly unhinged member of a Calvinist Church community, who marries Jan, an oil rig worker and an outsider. Bess has "conversations" with God and is so needy and in love with Jan that she can barely function when he's away for long periods of time on the oil-rig. After he's severely injured and paralyzed, he urges her to have sex with other men. For the next hour and half we watch this simple, child-like woman try to deal with this complicated situation (too complicated for her to comprehend in any reasonable way). The film is incredibly affecting and uncomfortable (I'm thinking especially of the scene of Bess dressed as a prostitute and walking her bike while being pelted with rocks by children) and it ends on an incredibly tragic note with only an odd touch--a hint of hope--in its final scene.
One thing I definitely appreciated about this film was that it doesn't just take the obvious route of Bess being completely insane. Yes, she's unhinged, but there's an ambiguity (or, well, you could argue there's nothing ambiguous about that last odd shot) that implies that maybe Bess
isn't insane after, that she
is talking to God, that her having sex with other men
is healing her husband, etc. The ambiguity elevates this dark, dark film into something more spiritual and hopeful.
Dancer In The Dark is similarly affecting, with Bjork playing Selma, who loves music and dancing, and who is slowly going blind. She's trying to save up for an operation to save her son's eye-sight. A tragic set of circumstances lead to her involvement in the death of policeman David Morse (a death scene that is completely shocking and that, again, I believe the film earned). As a result, her life falls apart. Interspersed throughout the film are musical sequences that play out in Selma's imagination, which is her way of dealing with the tragic circumstances thrust upon her. As with
Breaking The Waves, this film ends tragically but with one slight glimmer of hope.
I liked this one the least of all the films, mostly because I think it peaked after the violent incident. It really had no more surprises or twists -- just an hour of Bjork on the run, going to prison, and finally getting executed. Consequently, it didn't have the same impact on me as the other films did.
Where To Go From Here
I think I may next check out von Trier's
Kingdom mini-series. My respect for the man's work has only grown since
Antichrist. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a good provocateur.
I finally saw Where The Wild Things Are last night, and... well... I liked it okay. A little background: I'm the only one I know who wasn't exposed to the book as a kid (really, it feels like everyone I talk to had a childhood-love affair with the 10-sentence, 37-page book), so I have no prior attachment to the characters and I don't feel like the making a movie about it is somehow a bastardization of my childhood. Also, I'll admit, I dig the hipster coolness of the Spike Jonze brand (be it his ads, his music videos, his movies... or his short films about Kanye West's general douche-baggery manifesting itself as a suicidal rat-creature). So I went into this movie baggage-free and optimistic. And, like I say, I liked it. Somewhat.
It's definitely a smart script, with a sharp, nuanced, and (thankfully) subtle examination of being young, imaginative, and energetic. Max is a believable kid. He isn't cute and precocious, like most movie-kids; he's naive, destructive, impulsive, illogical, and yup, sometimes completely insensitive and mean. And I like how the monsters all represent some aspect of being a kid or a parent. Also, the look of the film is great, the soundtrack is cool, and I can't explain it, but I absolutely love James Gandolfini's voice-work as lead monster Carol.
So what did I find wrong with the film? Well, it just kind of petered out for me near the end. After the first hour and 10 minutes (just about after the completely awesome dirt-clod fight sequence) it began to get boring, with the tension dissipating almost completely. I think the film maybe could have used a stronger climax. Maybe something like all the monsters finally really turning on Max or something stronger than what we actually got, which was Carol turning on Max, Max escaping, and several conversation scenes helping Max finally realize he wants to go home. In the end... the kids and the critics who called it boring? I don't entirely disagree.
