He's Coming Back...

Melancholia

Strong cinematic emotions stir ardently when the name Lars von Trier is mentioned. The infamous Dane is a prankster, provocateur and has been called genius, misanthropic, misogynistic and perhaps even downright evil-- he doesn't help himself in the soft and cuddly department when he (jokingly) sympathizes with Nazis either.  It's the craft and scope and intensity of his films, however, that whether loved or hated-- and that's all relative in his case, as it's quite possible to be on both sides of the fence for many of his projects-- that distinguish him as a filmmaker not easy to discount or completely write off.  His latest, a wistfully romantic dreamlike opera is perhaps his most ambitious, yet also his softest and as strange as it seems, warmly humanistic.  Melancholia could describe its characters, but it also the name of a planet that is striking close to hitting Earth; that end of days hysteria strikes the most civilized in von Trier's cinematic track record may be the ultimate prank the auteur has set for his audience.  Emotionally, however, it's easily one of his most accessible and lovely triumphs-- each image almost impossibly pretty and poetic, and while this is most certainly not a film for everyone, it's difficult to shake the experience of a seasoned filmmaker boldly and refreshingly tinkering with the possibilities and marvels of film.

Melancholia seems to float from it's opening sequence-- a wondrously shot sequence set to Wagner's Tristan and Isolde-- there's fleeting and soft shots of our characters stuck and grounded and sad and terrified.  Whether it's meant to be a dream, an allusion matters little-- it's gentle and lulling, yet strong and stirring and beautifully poetic prelude.  It's in the opening shots that von Trier provokes with uncommon gentleness and teases his audience with something rich, splendid and alive.  It's an invitation to something exciting and unique.  The story itself starts with a wedding, an extravagant affair at a regal estate.  The newlyweds are Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Michael (Alexander Skarsgard) and are introduced jovially and happily.  The castle is owned by Justine's nervy sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her astronomer husband John (Kiefer Sutherland.)  The wedding in running behind schedule, a matter that makes Claire and John (who have spent a fortune on it) as well as the huge wedding party and planners frantic and uneasy.  Making matters more nervy is Justine's erratic behavior-- calm and pretty one moment, fragile and unhinged the next.  What exactly is the matter-- is it her callous boss (Stellan Skarsgard) whose eager to work during her happy day, or her unstable parents both making a scene-- mom Gaby (Charlotte Rampling) is a bitter rattle-rouser, while father Dexter (John Hurt) is a looney womanizer.  Or is it that strange red star on the horizon that appears just as Justine starts to feel paralyzed with depression and unable to situate herself with her loving husband, supportive, but frantic sister or herself for that matter.

The film is broken up into two parts.  The first is titled "Justine" and revolves around her wedding and ultimate undoing.  The second is titled "Claire" and takes place shortly thereafter when a distraught and nearly catatonic Justine comes back to her sister's home as the planet Melancholia inches closer and may impart doom on all.  What's striking about the second act is that Claire is still nervous, utterly paranoid and longingly protective of her husband, unstable sister, and curious son Leo (Cameron Spurr), while Justine is barely alive-- nearly refusing to eat, bathe-- but utterly calm at the same time, as if she's accepted whatever fate comes, while actively being apart of it as well.  Whatever cosmic interplanetary connection von Trier is going for in his characterization of Justine hardly matters, it brings out the best in Dunst, who has never been so assured, arresting nor compelling on screen before. She so deeply digs into a woman overtaken by depression; something only she alone can feel and see.  It's easily her finest performance to date.  All of which contrasts the typical von Trier-ian debate over misogyny; how can a filmmaker who conjures such strong, vivid roles for females be labeled as such.  In fairness, Dunst gets off slightly easier than past von Trier characters, including co-star Gainsbourg last foray with the filmmaker in 2009's Antichrist.  She's positively glowing and filmed with an almost devastating gracefulness (she won the Best Actress prize at this years Cannes Film Festival.)

What strikes in Melancholia is the richness of character detail and history, one that perhaps is only know to von Trier himself.  It matters little why Leo refers to his depressed aunt as Aunt Steelbreaker, or why the two bond over building caves together, nor what happened earlier in the lives of the two sisters that set them off on two strikingly different paths...what matters is that the subtext is there and alive and open to multiple ideas, and shaded with such beautiful imagery that's meticulous but also a tad playful.  The comic beats of Justine's parents acting like fools, or the wedding planner who won't look in her face for ruining his wedding, it's a freer and almost seemingly happier von Trier, despite the gloom and end of days depression that surrounds it.  It's perhaps the softest and most cuddly the filmmaker has every presented.  I rather like it.

There's another component that makes Melancholia a special edition to the von Trier collection, in that it's one of the first to truly use special effects of any kind.  And that kind of cinematic presence coupled with his intense, dogmatic style seems to free him even more a bit.  Dare it be said, but there's this sense of a kid playing in the sandbox in watching the film.  I'd be bullish to say that von Trier has found his inner Spielberg, but there's a joyful refrain in this film, one that's too distinctive to be ignored.  A-

Melancholia Ad Work

 The star and Cannes winner, and latest victim of Lars von Trier's hellbent revenge on pretty actresses.

And the true star, faux Nazi-sympathizer auteur extraordinaire.

Anyone else think it's kind of cool that a strange, apocalyptic art flick set at a wedding gets it's own character posters?  Lars von Trier is certainly a brand of his own.  Melancholia, which earned warm reviews (and a Best Actress award at Cannes for Kirsten Dunst), before being entirely dismissed by von Trier's silly comments, opens, courtesy of Magnolia Pictures, and opens in limited engagements November 11th.  Anyhow, it's nice for folks like Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kiefer Sutherland, Alexander Skarsgard and John Hurt get their own one-sheet.

The Ongoing Shenanigans of Lars von Trier

The awkward clip above is from the press conference at the Cannes Film Festival where director\auteur\provocateur Lars von Trier, sitting beside his latest actress\victim Kirsten Dunst, now infamously recalls his affections for Nazism and Hitler.  Whether as a lark, a merely nonsensical sarcastic rib, or who knows, his true sentiments, it's the statement that made me "persona non grata" and forced his exit from the storied film festival.  Strangely, just before this public meltdown, his latest film, Melancholia, (which is\was in competition, and has been described as an end of the world Rachel Getting Married) was favorably reviewed, and many early reviewers suggested it might snap a few prizes come festival end.  The speech itself is fairly disgusting, and poor Dunst's pained reactions make it even more uncomfortable.  But then again, this is Lars von Trier, a man whose work and reputation is built around discomfort and provocation.  A man who has publicly admitted many times over that he's unstable.  This is hardly the first time even he's made a ruckus at Cannes.  A longtime fixture of the festival, his 2000 musical Dancer in the Dark won the Palme D'Or, he can usually be counted on to bring in a fair share of controversy both inside and outside the theater.  His last venture to the film, for 2009's Antichrist, had another press conference meltdown of sorts.  A journalist questioned the violent nature of the film (of which that film had plenty of--including a fairly graphic display of genital mutilation), which turned into an outburst and war of words by our favorite nutty Danish-man.

In his films, including Breaking the Waves, Dogville, The Idiots and Antichrist, he's not shy about pointing fingers and causing trouble.  A longtime critic of both American and European values (even though his well documented fear of flying has kept his traveling at a minimum; he's never stepped foot on American soil), his films always raise eyebrows, either for the explicit sexual content, seemingly nonchalant gashes of violence, and implicit judgments of human nature.  Not to mention a severe brutality, usually directed at his female protagonists (Emily Watson, Bjork, Nicole Kidman, Charlotte Gainsborg, and Kirsten Dunst could likely form a support group.)  And while response of the films has always been all over the map, I would assume even from his fan base, there's always something eye-catching, revolting, interesting and endlessly fascinating about his films.  Which I suppose raises the question: Is Cannes being unfair in banning a known provocateur from its gates?  Should this not be a safe haven for films, and not the baggage that may come from its filmmakers?  The endless question of separating a man from his art, which will likely never be fully resolved.

In 1915, D.W. Griffith changed and morphed cinema into a modern age with Birth of a Nation, of course that film righteously endorsed the Ku Klux Klan, shameful message but the film did change the landscape of movies.  Elia Kazan named names in a fearful and silly era of American history, was that right?  Of course not, but the man is also responsible for A Streetcar Named Desire, Splendor in the Grass, and On the Waterfront, his ultimate apologia that still sparks nerves (including my own), but undeniably on of the most artful and important films in American history.  Whatever Roman Polanski did with that young girl was surely wrong, but does that make Chinatown, Rosemary's Baby, The Pianist or The Ghost Writer wrong as well.  Ditto for Woody Allen-- his latest, Midnight in Paris is his strongest and most wistful effort in years.  And well, Mel Gibson...perhaps we should let sleeping dogs lie, although he played nice this year as The Beaver played Cannes...by not speaking, of course.

The point is that while the words spoken by von Trier are wrongheaded and silly, and at the same time it's difficult to judge the heads of the Cannes Film Festival for being too-sensitive (no matter how much time has passed, the subject will always be murky), there should perhaps be some considerations as too comments uttered by a self-described unstable man promoting his latest provocation.  No one will likely ever find out the truth behind the comments themselves...even his apologies after the fact must be read in quotation marks.  But the man's art (which is what it is) should speak for itself.

Melancholia

The first art for Lars von Trier's latest, Melanchlia has arrived.  It's kind of dreamy, yet again the print art for von Trier's work is always striking.

 

Love him or hate him...I've swung both ways...he's a bold, ballsy real nutbag of filmmaker, and bless him for that.

Melancholia

In the past, provocateur\auteur\madman Lars von Trier has tortured the likes of Emily Watson, Bjork, Nicole Kidman and Charlotte Gainsbourg, as well as a few audience members journeying into his films.  Now it's Kirsten Dunst's turn in his latest, science fiction? provocation.