Von Trier’s Antichrist Morbid but Far from Mundane

©2009 Zentropa Entertainments23 ApS, Zentropa International Köln GmbH, Slot Machine Sarl, Liberator Productions Sarl, Arte France Cinéma, Memfis Film International AB, Trollhättan Film AB, Lucky Red SRL.

Throughout much of human history, the forest has always been considered a place of danger and foreboding and in Lars Von Trier’s “Antichrist,” fear of the forest takes on a whole new level of anxiety and shock.

While He (Willem Dafoe) and She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) are having sex, their young child falls from a window to his death in agonizing slow motion all the while Handel’s “Lascia ch’io pianga” plays in the background.

He, who happens to be a psychotherapist, agrees to council his grief-stricken wife with the caveat that they move to Eden, their cabin in the woods.

At first, a gaunt and perpetually bony She substitutes sex for grief throughout much of “Antichrist” but as they both discover, sex is never the antidote for grief especially when it comes to losing a child.

Acorns and trees become objects of dread as do the sounds of the forests which become more and more horrific as She spirals into a deeply imbedded madness.

A constant droning sound similar to that in David Lynch’s “Eraserhead” becomes synonymous with dread.

In one scene, a more sinister version of Mr. Fox from “Fantastic Mr. Fox” tells He that “chaos reigns” which is true in most Von Trier films but so what?

Later, HE reads She’s diary with its incomprehensible writings peppered with motifs suggesting witchcraft and a complete devolution which opens a window into the ravings of a lunatic.

As proof, She asks He to “hit her until it hurts” but when He hesitates at first, She exclaims that “You don’t love me.”

More “Eraserhead”-like music provides the eerie backdrop to fornication in the woods and in a woodshed where She (in a fit of rage) makes a failed attempt at copulation with her husband.

©2009 Zentropa Entertainments23 ApS, Zentropa International Köln GmbH, Slot Machine Sarl, Liberator Productions Sarl, Arte France Cinéma, Memfis Film International AB, Trollhättan Film AB, Lucky Red SRL.

Instead of moving on like most normal couples, She clobbers He in the groin with a piece of split wood rendering him unconscious.

In a “Misery”-esque moment, She takes an antique wood drill, pops a nice hole in He’s leg and immobilizes him by attaching a heavy weight to the leg.

“Antichrist” seems to give new meaning to the phrase: Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.

After regaining consciousness, He attempts an escape by crawling through the forest where he fights off a raven that wants to make a meal of his leg.

At this point, one almost hopes a giant tree limb would fall on He, She and the entire Von Trier production crew such is the sense of intense, ultra-violent psychosis in this film.

The biggest mistake here is not moving out to the country cabin to heal but He’s insistence on acting as his wife’s psychotherapist which comes into alarmingly sharp focus as She plods through the woods screaming “Where are you, you bastard?”

The level of pain and suffering in this film are on such a massive scale as to almost render this film comical and beyond hyperbole such that the hyper-violence in “Misery” and “A Clockwork Orange” come to mind as being almost sophomoric.

Despite the morbid subject matter and depressing montage and script, “Antichrist” draws the viewer into a kind of morbidly weeping vortex reminiscent of a diabolical peep show.

She’s actions toward the climax of “Antichrist” are clearly meant to precipitate a type of suicide-by-cop action by her husband.

The climax itself is beyond watchable except in some countries where self-mutilation is still acceptable (spoiler alert).

Gainsbourg, as Von Trier’s bony yet electrifying muse, is as usual intelligent and dynamic in her believable depiction of a broken woman who slides into madness following a tragic loss.

Dafoe too is great in a performance that rates him high as the quintessential actor’s actor.

“Antichrist” is dedicated to the Russian director Andre Tarkovsky who may have agreed with the notion that if there is any redeeming message to be gained from this film, it’s that the ugly side of human nature has its place among all forms of human artistic endeavor including cinema, but that doesn’t mean that the ideology of art for art’s sake is for everyone.

It’s not a stretch to say that “Antichrist” may be perceived as being completely inaccessible to all but the biggest Von Trier fans but it’s also a film that the viewer can’t help but watch simply out of curiosity much as motorists slow down to view a horrific automobile accident.

Still, based on Von Trier’s catalog of films to date, I’m sure that he would be okay with that assessment.—-Steve Santiago

Artist entertains but Chaplin it’s not

Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo star in "The Artist," 2011, The Weinstein Company

When I first saw “The Artist,” I couldn’t quite make out whether this film was a gimmicky effort made to appeal to a niche segment of cinephiles or a finely crafted homage to the silent era.

Directed by the relatively unknown Michel Hazanavicius, “Artist” (2011) has garnered glowing critical review including three Oscar nominations for Hazanavicius: best director, best original screenplay and best editing.

Despite that, “Artist” is still not in the same league as its cinematic ancestors: “The Passion of Joan of Arc” (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928), “The Battleship Potemkin” (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925), “Greed” (Erich von Stroheim, 1924), “The General” (Buster Keaton, 1926) and “Metropolis” (Fritz Lang, 1927) are just a handful of films from that era that should, at the very least, receive a special screening by the academy prior to handing out any statuette for “Artist.”

But with its legions of gushing critical followers, that seems unlikely to happen.

In any event, “Artist” opens with a screening of George Valentin’s (Jean Dujardin) latest silent picture “The Russian Affair” during which aside from him being tortured by a Frankenstein-like electrical device, not much else happens.

But after the screening, a starstruck fan, Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo),  accidently inserts herself into media frenzy outside the theater and is photographed planting one on Valentin’s face.

When his wife Doris (Penelope Ann Miller) sees the photo on the front page of Variety the next day, she is none too amused by both Valentin and his kooky Jack Russell Terrier, Uggie, who is trained to mimic Valentin’s pantomime.

The Weinstein Company, La Petite Reine, Studio 37

Meanwhile, Peppy Miller is ecstatic at having been photographed by Variety and decides to go on an audition at Kinograph Studios.

While waiting for her audition, she shows a butler (a bored Malcolm McDowell) the magazine cover and is dejected when he still doesn’t recognize her.

After earning a role and receiving a nod of approval from the casting director, Peppy celebrates with a Tiger Woods-like fist pump.

She then turns to a still seated McDowell and says “My name is Peppy Miller” to which McDowell wryly smiles and shrugs it off.

The Weinstein Company, La Petite Reine, Studio 37

Valentin later suggests Peppy paint a fake mole above her upper lip to attract more attention and miraculously she starts commanding better roles.

As time rolls on to 1929, sound technology comes into being and Valentin’s relationship with Doris

becomes more mundane and strained.

On top of that, Studio head Zimmer (John Goodman) screens one of the first rushes employing sound and Valentin laughs it off  as a joke.

“If that’s the future, you can have it,” he sniffs (perhaps echoing the same criticism Walt Disney received when he first proposed producing animated feature-length films).

Not surprisingly, Valentin inexplicably wakes up to an entire world using the new technology of sound only he is unable to speak, still silent and still holding on the a bygone era.

It turns out to be a Buñuelian dream from which Valentin awakens sweating and clearly disturbed― so much so that the normally outgoing actor becomes introspective on the ride to the studio at which he discovers that most of the silent actors and stage hands are gone.

Kinograph Studios has decided to halt production of silent films in favor of talkies.

“You and I belong to another era, George. The world is talking now,” Zimmerman tells a stunned Valentin.

In a matter of hours, Valentin discovers that he has gone from yesterdays box office idol to today’s washed up actor―it wasn’t possible back then to hang on for dear life by coining boorish phrases like “winning.”

Meanwhile though, Peppy Miller is winning having signed a deal with the newly reinvented Kinograph Studios.

She still believes in Valentin and eventually helps resurrect his career but only after Valentin makes one more desperate attempt at producing and acting in his own silent film which fails miserably.

The Weinstein Company 

“Artist” is an entertaining, well made and aptly researched and edited piece but the effusion of positive critique of it as something new rather than novel is puzzling and makes one wonder whether or not some critics are really familiar with the silent film canon.

Still, in addition to the categories for which it is nominated, “Artist” should probably also be nominated for best costume design, best cinematography and music score.

Everything is period correct even down to interior light switches and poster fonts.

Under ideal circumstances, there should probably be more of a push to restore original silent films and screen them at modern theaters but as they say, “every dog has its day” and if there were such a thing as an Oscar for dogs, Uggie would certainly earn my vote.―Steve Santiago

 

‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’ delivers again and again

Noomi Rapace & Michael Nyqvist in 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' (2009) Yellow Bird, Nordisk Film

To say that Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a gripping crime thriller really barely scratches the surface of what is really a sweeping work of fiction that  delivers an eye-opening look at how wealth and immorality corrupts and destroys a prominent family while at the same time condemning certain aspects of modern Swedish society.

Helmed by the relatively unknown Danish director Niels Arden Oplev, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo  really does have it all―sex, violence, marital infidelity, political intrigue, corporate corruption and of course numerous references to Sweden’s brief WWII experiment with Nazism.

The Girl with the Dragon  is based on Stieg Larsson’s wildly popular “Millennium series” of novels which were released shortly after his death in 2004.

All three novels in the series (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, (The Girl Who Played with Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest) dissect the underbelly of 21st century Swedish society while the stark beauty of the Sweden’s countryside provides a naturally dramatic backdrop.

In The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist) is an investigative journalist who loses a libel case involving a wealthy but corrupt businessman named Hans-Erik Wennerström (Stefan Sauk).

Despite being sentenced to three months in prison and ordered to pay thousands in damages, Blomkvist is hired by Henrik Vanger, the former CEO of Vanger Corporation, to investigate the disappearance of his great-niece Harriet.

Because Harriet has been gone so long, Henrik rationalizes that Harriet was murdered yet each year on his birthday he receives gifts of pressed flowers leading him to suspect that either it’s a joke from the killer or Harriet is still alive.

It’s no secret that Henrik deeply despises his family which only further muddies the waters of potential suspects.

“For all intensive purposes the Vanger family was made up of a thoroughly unpleasant bunch and there was a mutual hatred among us,” Vanger tells Mikael.

Girl takes place around Christmas time but there is anything but cheer and tidings of joy.

Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace) is a surveillance agent/computer hacker initially hired by Vanger’s lawyer to investigate Blomkvist but she believes Mikael has been set up and eventually is arm-twisted into joining his investigation into Harriet’s disappearance.

Rapace’s portrayal of the rakish, antisocial Lisbeth is brutally ice-cold yet brilliantly believable and consistent throughout the entire 152-minute film.

When Lisbeth is assaulted by a group of thugs in the subway, she manages to fight them off with a broken bottle.

And when her guardian/probation officer Nils Bjurman (Peter Andersson) threatens to withhold money from her unless she performs sexual favors, she frames him by secretly videotaping her own rape.

 

Peter Andersson & Noomi Rapace (2009) Yellow Bird, Nordisk Film

                                                                                                                                

Like most modern films, product placement rears its ugly head in the form of prominent placement of Apple laptops.

But that’s not really as annoying as how it seems every time a computer is hacked, the screen displays “ACCESS GRANTED” as if that needs to be spelled out every time.

Still, Girl has returned nearly $105 million in box office which might explain why American production companies caught a whiff and decided to remake a 2011 version directed by David Fincher and starring the latest “Bond” muse Daniel Craig.

I’m also not sure how Daniel Craig, more known for his action roles, will come across as an investigative journalist although he does have an uncanny resemblance to Michael Nyqvist.

What really sets the Swedish version apart from its inevitable American clone is that in this version, the music and dialog are consistent throughout the film.

Absent is the typical American penchant whereby inaudible dialogue is followed by ear-shattering audio simply for dramatic emphasis.

The astonishing climax is reached through steady and surefooted building of plot points in a way any adult would appreciate because the editing in Girl is methodical and mature without being boring.

Early theatrical promotions for the David Fincher-helmed Girl made it seem like the film would be the next great MTV music video rather than a high-quality dramatic thriller which this film is supposed to be.

It is said that imitation is the best form of flattery but in this case you’re probably better off seeing the original.—Steve Santiago

   

Melancholia It’s What’s For Dinner

"Melancholia," 2011, Zentropa, Nordisk Film Distribution, Magnolia Pictures

If you’re on the fence as to whether you’ll have a big lavish wedding—don’t, otherwise you could have an entire planet crash the party and ruin the festivities.

Such seems to be the message of Lars Von Trier’s latest offering, “Melancholia” starring Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kiefer Sutherland, Alexander Skarsgård, Charlotte Rampling and John Hurt.

The film is presented in two parts entitled “Justine” and “Claire” which at first glance would seem to suggest some sort of meaningful dichotomy but  in reality is just a single unified treatise on how depression runs in families.

At first, “Melancholia” stylistically resembles Zack Snyder’s “300” in its visual richness combined with the psychological tension of a Bergman film.

In one of the first few shots, Justine (Dunst) is seen in close up looking like she scraped herself off the sidewalk after an all-night rave party.

Next, Melancholia itself appears out of the abyss as a stunningly beautiful, benign orb while Justine floats down an idyllic stream in her wedding dress almost right out of a Tennyson poem.

As the film’s title would suggest, Justine inexplicably falls into a severe depression on her wedding night.

The reception is at a gorgeous Victorian-era mansion owned by Justine’s sister Claire (Gainsbourg) and her husband John (Sutherland).

But perhaps in a sign of things to come, Justine and Michael’s (Alexander Skarsgård) stretch limo almost doesn’t make up the narrow unpaved road leading to the mansion.

Then things go from bad to worse as Justine’s shrewish mother Gaby (Rampling) and bumbling father Dexter (Hurt) almost single-handedly derail the nuptials.

Justine and Michael share a moment

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Gaby toasts the happy couple. “I myself hate marriages especially when they involve some of my closest family members.”

With parents like that, it’s no wonder Justine goes off the deep end.

She refuses to consummate her marriage to Michael and eventually gets dumped that same night but not before she boffs her co-worker,Tim (Brady Corbet) outside on the lawn.

Meanwhile John, despite channeling Jack Bauer, goes from self-assured lord of the realm to basket case.

At first he appears to be the only level-headed character in the film but when he discovers that Melancholia won’t just graze Earth but actually slingshot back and collide, he decides to check off the planet by committing suicide.

With all the depression running amuck, it’s no wonder John forgot that his primary responsibility to his family was to provide for them and protect them from harm.

Not that he could do anything about a rogue planet impacting Earth, but he could’ve saved face by at least pretending.

“Melancholia” was beautifully lensed in champagne golds, rich earth tones and brooding blues by Manuel Alberto Claro (“Reconstruction,” “Dark Horse,” “Allegro”).

Hey, if the world’s going to end, at least everything looks pretty.

Von Trier’s choice to score “Melancholia” almost exclusively from Richard Wagner’s “Tristan & Isolde” catalog definitely sheds light on why everyone’s in a bad mood.

“Melancholia” premiered at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival where the verbally unedited von Trier made controversial statements that some perceived anti-Semitic.

Still, Dunst (who battled her own melancholy back in 2008) won the award for Best Actress and really put in a performance not seen since her role as Claudia in
“Interview with the Vampire.”

Stellan Skarsgård sans pirate makeup puts in a fine effort as Justine’s priggish boss Jack.

“Melancholia”is a well-crafted movie that’s worth seeing on the big screen, just remember to have a big bottle of Prozac on hand afterwards.—Steve Santiago

“Incendies” a conflagration you don’t want to put out

"Incendies" (2010), Micro_Scope Productions, TS Productions,Phi Group

“War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it, and those who brought war into our country deserve all the curses and maledictions a people can pour out.”

So said Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman during the American Civil War but it also quite aptly describes the underlying plot of “Incendies,” a Canadian film released in September 2010.

Directed by Denis Villeneuve and adapted from Wajdi Mouawad’s play “Scorched,” “Incendies” literally translates from French as “fires” and delivers nothing less than a film characterized by epic brutality and terror counterbalanced by moments of human sweetness, empathy and sacrifice.

At a reading of their mother’s will, twin siblings Jeanne and Simon Marwan (Mélissa Désormeaux-Poulin, Maxim Gaudette) are puzzled by her seemingly mad requests.

Nawal Marwan (Lubna Azabal) insists on being buried face down, without a coffin and sans a headstone.

The twins always thought their mother had a screw or two loose but never really knew why.

When Nawal requests through notary Jean Lebel (Rémy Girard) that her children deliver two letters—one for a brother they never knew and the other to a father they presumed was dead—Simon walks out in disgust.

At first only Jeanne makes the trip back to the Middle East but once she starts piecing together who her mother really was—a student turned freedom fighter, assassin and later tortured political prisoner—Simon agrees to join her and find out the truth about their mother.

Although not directly stated in the film, “Incendies” takes place during the Lebanese Civil War of 1975-1990 during which up to a quarter million people were killed, over one million people displaced and Beirut, once regarded as the “Paris” of the Middle East, was destroyed.

Director of Photography Andre Turpin adroitly captures the vastly vacant, dusty landscapes of the Middle East with an uneasy beauty that avoids turning this film into a travelogue.

The horror of war is particularly brought to the forefront during a scene in which a bus carrying Arab travelers is ambushed members of a Christian militia who at a checkpoint riddle the bus with gunfire and torch it.

“Incendies” is a film that keeps driving forward like a wild herd of mustangs until delivering its unbelievable climax.

Nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 2011, much of “Incendies” takes place during a period of war yet is not about war per se, but about how war and cruelty destroy the human soul and strip it of its brilliance and beauty.—Steve Santiago