Showing posts with label Lars Von Trier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lars Von Trier. Show all posts

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Breaking the Waves and Patriarchy in Von Trier Films

Bess is a simple woman.  She loves her family, cares for her church, listens to her God and deeply, desperately, obsessively loves her new husband, Jan. She can't stand to be apart from him, but his job as an oil rig worker forces him to be away from her for months at a time.  It is at this point that Bess begins making deals with God, to get him back no matter what the cost.

Lars Von Trier is often accused of being a misogynist, because of the excessive abuses that he puts his female characters through.  Certainly the abuses in Nymphomania, Dancer in the Dark, Dogville, this film and especially Antichrist are varied and of the deepest horror, and one might question the imagination of a man who creates such violence to such lovely women.

But placing the blame on Von Trier is, I think, missing the point.  Von Trier is not the enemy, and he is not punishing these women for the sin of being women.  Rather, he is displaying what happens in a patriarchal society.  Each of these films show a different aspect of patriarchal abuses.  Dancer in the Dark shows a helpless woman, caught in a web of a man's desire; Antichrist shows male jealousy and power, Dogville displays the blame society places on the vulnerable and Nymphomania shows how a woman's self abuse can occur in a society focused on men's sexual desire.

Breaking the Waves takes place in an extremely patriarchal society, in which only men are given a voice in the community, women are expected to be submissive and obey what the men order or else they are exiled from the community.  The film takes Bess, the dearest and gentlest of souls, and shows how patriarchy, just by being patriarchy, destroys her bit by bit.  She has the most loving husband and a sister in law who does everything they can to help her, but even with this kind of support, they cannot stop the voice of patriarchy in her head, which she considers to be the voice of God.

In a sense, this film displays the most insidious and evil part of patriarchy-- the voice of harsh judgment and punishment within the heads of the vulnerable and helpless, so that they never can escape the marionette strings that bind them, even if alone.  Freedom is never an option, nor is love, even when true love is found.

This is a terrible, but important film to witness.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Review and Meditation on Dancer in the Dark


Acting is a brutal art.  To accomplish a real act of drama, not just a light and frothy musical scene, but deep sorrow and regret, requires something from one’s soul that must be torn out.   Bjork, the star of the 2000 film, Dancer in the Dark, said that the role of acting in this film was so emotionally wrenching that she would never act again.  She also may have given a hint that the director of extreme film, Lars Von Trier, could be the cause of this.  She had nothing good to say about him after the filming, calling him “sexist.”  Is it because he was demanding sacrifice more than she could give for the film?  Certainly he is more demanding of his female characters than his male ones. 

Sacrifice is never pretty.  Some demand our sacrifice, some compel us to sacrifice ourselves for them.  Most people don’t want anyone else to sacrifice for themselves.  They can take care of themselves, take care of their own.  Certainly Selma, the focus of the film, wanted no help.  Yes, she had a genetic disease, a sight disorder that had just about made her blind.  Her son has the same disorder.  But she has a plan.  She will work hard and save the money necessary in order to get her son an operation so he can see, and end the curse on her family.   It turns out that the cost was going to be much higher than she expected.

Selma loves musicals.  Although her life is focused on her son, her one real joy is music and dance.   Her friend, Jeff, wonders why she would love musicals so much.  “I don’t suddenly break into song and dance.”  “No,” Selma replies, “no, you wouldn’t.”   

But Selma does, in her mind.  She can hear the rhythms of everyday life, the beats of the factory, the pounding of a train, the sketching of an artist and turns them into songs.  She is the star of her own musical.  But like the film, the songs aren’t rushed, nor do they have a tight melody.  They linger in emotion, momentarily hesitating and then rushing past the natural beats.   They dance around, perhaps even fight against the very rhythm that is their source and pulse.  

So this film, with its documentary cinematography, musical sensibility but ultimately brutal nature is almost unnatural, fighting against the limits of our mind and demanding that we, too, sacrifice ourselves.  It is no-holds-barred cinema.  Not for the squeamish or overwrought.  But it’s hyper-drama may be what some need to retain hope.  Yes, hope.

*  *  *
Spoilers below

Like the train, though, the songs move forward, as does the film, pushing along.  As Selma’s eyesight fades, so the film becomes emotionally dark and Selma’s path toward her goal becomes more difficult, even brutal.   Despite the darkness that she can no longer ignore or hide, she is determined to reach her goal, no matter what it costs, no matter what she must sacrifice.

In the end, Selma is the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb, the one whose life must be laid down for the sins of others.  She is the innocent one, the pure unblemished offering.  Through her is healing, through her is mercy, through her the guilt is washed away.

Watch her.  See how she is kindly brutalized, but she responds to all with gracious kindness and acts of mercy.  See how she is there to bring life and to heal life, to give precious gifts through her own veins.  Look at the glorious victim, one moment unable to stand, and the next joyfully accepting her fate!  Glory to the precious redeemer, tied to the beams and hung for our errors, the innocent for the guilty.  All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned everyone to his own way, but the Lord hath laid on her the iniquity of us all. 

This is the greatest, truest passion of them all.

But this is not the last song.  Death is not the finale.  They do not know, but the last song is still to be sung.  For this is not the end.  Because she willingly poured herself out to death, and she was numbered with the transgressors,  she will be allotted with the great, she will prosper and will be highly exalted.

This is the state of the poor.  Selma works and does all she can, but nothing comes of it.  Because of her kind nature, and due to her human weakness, more is demanded of her than she can give.  She gives all, but it is not enough, there is always someone… more than someone… who demands more than she can give.  It is the way of the world.  Those who are kind and have little, more is demanded of them.  More than they can give.  Eventually, broken and bruised, brutalized and beaten, they surrender all for the sake of those they love.

But this is not the end of the story.  There is still hope, there is still a future.  While the poor do not see justice in their lives, it exists in the future.  They will be praised for their sacrifice.  The slaves, the falsely accused, the abused, the oppressed, the outcast—they will have their day.   This is not the last song.  We can just hear glimpses of the melody.  We know the last song is coming.  We just need to wait.

This last song is not for the pillars of society, the powerful, the respected, the comfortable.  They have had their chance, their song.  Those who see the penultimate song and call it the finale.  If they partake in the last song at all, it will be in a supporting role, for finally the weak who supported these pillars on their backs will have their due.

“It will be a day like this one when the sky falls down and the hungry and poor and the wounded are found.” -Switchfoot

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Melancholia: Review and Analysis



I haven’t watched a lot of films by Lars Von Trier.  I still haven’t seen his possibly most popular work with Bjork, Dancer in the Dark.  But in the few films I have seen by him, I know this:  Von Trier isn’t about subtlety.  He aims his 2 x 4 straight across the jaw, just to make sure you get it.  Yet this film, as opposed to many of his others, had many subtle touches and was a truly human film, filled with human touches.  The two main characters don’t represent Woman, but are characters we can recognize and appreciate, as extreme as some of their actions may seem.

This is also possibly Von Trier’s most beautiful film.  The first five minutes of surrealistic shots, almost stills, took my breath away.   And though the film then moves quickly into narrative, it is still filled with the most gorgeous shots.  The lighting of the reception moving outside to the grass, the shot of Kirsten Dunst bathing in the light of the coming planet… all gorgeous.  And  Wagner’s score from Tristan und Isolde over it all just inhances the beauty.  Honestly, if you want me to love a film, make it surrealistic, with an amazing score and throw in beautiful images—yeah, it’ll be one of my favorites.

One of the most surprising things about this film is that though it is all about depression—we get that from the title—yet it is not depressing.  It is filled with humor, beauty, and even hope and joy.  Sure, it’s about the end of the world, but that doesn’t mean it has to be sad.  More about depression in the film in the analysis.
A much more straightforward film than Antichrist, but covers some of the same themes, about depression and nihilism.  I think this film might be the key to really “getting” Antichrist, which I will watch again to get the idea of it.  If I finally “get it” then I’ll write my findings in a new post.

Overall, Melancholia was a marvelous experience, excellently acted and brilliantly conceived.   I cannot recommend it to everyone.  If you have had no experience with depression or have never struggled with being overwhelmed by life, perhaps you wouldn’t appreciate it.  But for me, it was an amazing experience, and one I want to have again.  5/5

Below is my analysis of the film, including spoilers.  If you haven’t seen the film, I recommend not reading it until after you’ve seen the film.



As I was leaving the theatre after seeing Melancholia, I heard one woman say to her companion, “That was so stupid.”  And I could understand why.  After all, the film ends with Earth being destroyed and flames engulfing the audience, and finally, complete silence.  This isn’t subtle, nor is it an ending where you have to decide whether it is happy or unhappy.   Frankly, the film makes it clear: it just is.  This is reality.  For many people, this is simply silly.  They have never experienced the end of their world, nor dealt with the depression in which such an end is inevitable.  To end the film in this way is a slap in the face to their sensibilities, a pointless exercise in nihilism. 

But part of what the film communicates is that melancholia is a state of mind, an “illness” that cannot be gainsaid.  Either you have had this state as an experience or you haven’t.  If you haven’t, then such thinking is “stupid”, overdramatic and a rejection of reality.  But if melancholia is a part of you, then it is just how reality looks.   The end is truly nigh, and our body just is preparing for the inevitable.

What is exactly meant by melancholia?  In the ancient world, a melancholic personality is one who has too much of a certain “humor” (or fluid) in the blood.  The melancholic personality is introverted and creative, and when one develops too much of the humor that creates such a personality, then such a person becomes isolated, lack energy and depressed.  This is an early form of what today we call clinical depression.   Technically, clinical depression is usually caused by a lack of serotonin in the brain, which causes one to no longer feel pleasure in everyday experience.  This causes lethargy and a lack of energy.  Such a lack of serotonin can also cause one to be anxious, inflating little fears to inaction.   Depression is sometimes a way of the body indicating that it has had enough stimulation, and that it needs rest.  In chronic depression, the body never catches up on the “rest” it needs, and the victim can spend his or her time sleeping, staying away from people and hiding from anything that might cause stress or stimulation.

Von Trier adds one more layer to melancholia that isn’t usually found in ancient medicine or modern psychology: a philosophical side.  Attached to lack of energy, introversion, and creativity is a nihilism—a confidence that there is, in reality, no hope for life.  All life will end and there is no life or spiritual force that will replace that life when it is gone.   It is true that such hopelessness often accompanies depression, but it isn’t a necessary component of it.  However, what does accompany such depression is a satisfaction that life will end, because once life is over, then so is the stress and one can finally rest.

Obviously, Justine is the melancholic, the focus of the film—and the representative of Von Trier himself.  She has all the indicators of all the layers of melancholia, and Part I lays out exactly what such a condition is.  Justine, is in the midst of the “happiest day of her life” and it is clear that everyone expects her to—nay, demands that she— be happy.  But happiness is not in her nature, and frankly, such a social event with so much planning and detail is a clear trigger for a depressive event, demanding more energy than a melancholic has.  Everyone is disappointed with her, but she has no reserves to meet everyone’s demands.

Finally, she escapes the stress by undermining her entire life.  She publicly has sex with a visitor to the wedding, thus ending her short marriage.  She deeply and publicly insults her boss, thus ending the promotion he just gave her.  The only relationships she retains are those that give her comfort:  her father (who runs from her) and her sister.   In this way, she ends her own world, allowing the thoughts of the inevitability of such an end have their self-fulfillment.  Now she can rest.  There are no more demands.  Disaster is not something to fear, but it is to be embraced.  It is the end which is best met quickly and on one’s own terms.

In Part II, the focus changes.  Now it is about the impending disaster of the planet Melancholia coming to destroy the Earth.  For the characters, there is some ambiguity as to whether the planet will hit, but for us, who has already been given a preview of the event at the beginning of the film, there is no question, and the horses agree with us—the end is inevitable.

There are four responses to this impending doom.  The first is Justine’s.  She is not surprised by the end of all life, she not only expected it, but is content with such an end.  “The Earth is evil” she says, and so it is worthy that all life be destroyed, to be replaced with nothingness.  The funny thing is, that while pressures were being put upon Justine in the first part of the film that she couldn’t deal with, the only truly evil actions in the film are hers (except, perhaps, for John’s selfish end).  “Evil” then, must be a personal definition, not a moral one.  The Earth is evil to her because she can’t deal with it. 

Because of this attitude and approach to crisis, Justine is supremely able to deal with the ultimate crisis.  Her whole life has been in preparation for this very moment, in being able to deal with the ultimate disaster.  She creates the idea of a “magic cave” which will protect them from the coming disaster.  Of course she knows that such a protection doesn’t exist.  But she creates it to ease the anxiety of those around her.   The cave is much like the isolation that she participated in to shield herself from the end of her life.

I think that this is how Von Trier sees existentialism and probably religion.  They are necessary fictions to help the normal human deal with the inevitable, impending disaster.  This is not unlike Jean-Paul Sarte’s view of reality: Nihilism is fact, but we cannot live as if there is no hope or meaning to life.  Thus we have to create fictions, commitments to life, that we surrender ourselves to completely.  It doesn’t delay the inevitable, but it makes life easier to bear in the meantime.

The second response, which is the opposite of Justine’s, is John’s.  He is completely optimistic, he is absolutely confident that life will continue on as normal.  This crisis is simply a bump in life, one of the normal intrusions to the humdrum world that makes life interesting.  He rejoices in the planet, and takes as much pleasure as he can out of it.  Eventually, he expresses his real doubts and finally seeks out the truth of the matter.  When he discovers that Earth will actually be destroyed by the planet, he finds himself completely unprepared to deal with it, and commits suicide.  It is interesting that it is the sanguine John who commits suicide and not the depressive Justine, although in real life it is the depressive that often commits suicide.  The point is that when the world ends, it is the optimistic who can’t deal with reality, not the melancholic.

Another response is the horses.  (Not Leo.  He just follows his father’s response and then Justine’s).  They know that disaster is inevitable, and their first response is panic.  All they want to do is escape it, run away.  Augustine won’t cross the bridge because he knows what is coming there.   But after a time, they calm down.  There is no point to continue panic.  What will happen will happen.  In a sense, the horses reaction is the most logical.

Finally, we have Claire.  In normal life, Claire is the most practical, the one that holds everything together, the one that smoothes out the rough edges, who maintain relationships, who keeps her head in all of life’s little crises.  She is the kind of person who keeps life going.   So the possibility of life abruptly ending is the worst possible outcome, and the one thing she just can’t handle.   Her response to this, appropriately, is fear.  Her husband tells her that she is just anxious, fearing for nothing.  However, we find out later, that he simply just couldn’t deal with her fear in light of his need for hope, so he just denied her the logical response.

When it is clear that the end of life is inevitable, Claire’s first response is to perpetuate life.  Just to stand on the terrace with her sister and son, to drink wine and make small talk.  Justine refuses this, recognizing that when life is ending, such a response is inadequate, and only perpetuates denial, leading possibly to a worse breakdown.  Claire finally accepts Justine’s solution of participating in the “magic cave”, but in the end, the false protection means nothing to her and she remains anxious to the end, recognizing that her worst fears have been realized.

The final question I had about the film is the allegory of the planet Melancholia itself.  Certainly it represents the end of life.  Possibly the end of one’s social life, as what Justine experienced in the first part of the film.  Or perhaps it represents a personal end to life—the inevitability of death for us all. 

But Melancholia represents more than the object which precipitates an impending disaster.   As its name indicates, it is also a representative of depression itself.   Certainly it represented the mental state of impending doom for Justine.  She refused to undress for her husband on her wedding night, nor did she even undress for the young tool she used to end her marriage with.  But for the planet of Melancholia, she completely disrobed and opened herself completely to it.  Depression itself was the joy in her life, that which she could completely surrender herself to.

But is the planet a representation of depression to everyone?  Is the greatest disaster of everyone’s life in the film not the “end of life as we know it”, but Depression itself?  Is John actually denying depression in response to crisis as an option, and when depression comes he commits suicide?  Is Claire fearful of her lack of response to life?  Is she ultimately fearful of losing control, of no longer having the energy or drive to love, to hope, to smooth things out? 

I don’t know that Von Trier intended such a deep metaphor, but it is interesting to think about.