Antichrist (15.)
Directed by Lars Von Trier.
Starring Charlotte Gainsbourg, Willem Defoe. 104 mins.
I’m writing this on a nice new laptop, recently purchased from Fat Dave. The laptop works perfectly, is definitely legitimate and was very reasonably priced, just like several other electrical items in my possession, also courtesy of Fat Dave. And yet I still feel I’ve been had in some way.
Which is how I feel about the movies of Von Trier, many of which I have very much enjoyed over the years but never without a wary unease that he has in some way got one over on me. Well not this time, Antichrist is pure cobblers and only a doe eyed rube is going to fall for it.
An intense and rather theatrical two hander, Antichrist is the kind of piece where the actors are praised for their bravery. Some thirty five years ago grieving couple Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie tried to get over the loss of their child by distressing the bed sheets in Venice. Now Von Trier sends his couple out into a hut in the woods to get over a similar bereavement to undergo as series of emotional, physical, sexual and supernatural torments.
Written, he claims, during a bout of depression, AC is a blunt howl of anguish at everything and everyone. Its nihilistic despair is expressed in the time honoured way of the artist – by forcing actors to perform a series of demeaning and humiliating acts.
(These culminate in His and Her moments of, apparently graphic, genital mutilation - I can’t vouch for that myself as I was looking at the ceiling at the time. A terrible dereliction of duty I know but a triumpant moment of humanity at the same time. Look away now if you don’t want to know when to look away: around 75 minutes in when she attacks him in the shed and wrenches down his trousers – this one is a bit abrupt and could catch you off guard - and then around the 90 minute mark when she picks up the scissors but there is a very gradual build up to that one so you should know exactly when it is coming.)
The Von Trier oeuvre can be likened to a series of the Generation Game with Lars as Brucie putting actor through various embarrassing rituals. Rather hilariously Gainsbourg actually managed to pick up a prize from the conveyor belt, winning Best Actress at Cannes even though it’s the worst thing I’ve seen her in. She is normally a beguiling performer but apart from when she’s screaming obscenities, her delivery is so unvarying it’s like she’s saying the same line over again. Dafoe was a diffident Christ in Last Temptation and his not much more energised here.
It sure do look priddy tho. The look of the film is a return to the lush imagery of his earlier films. Von Trier dedicates the movie to Russian master movie maker Tarkovsky (which is nice of him as much of it is a rip off of Mirror) and if the great man had ever made a Timotei advert this is what it would have looked like.
Despite its desperation to provoke, it is ultimately a rather mild piece, easy to shrug off and forget. As empty, hateful, nihilistic gestures go it’s not a patch on Transformers 2.
Directed by Lars Von Trier.
Starring Charlotte Gainsbourg, Willem Defoe. 104 mins.
I’m writing this on a nice new laptop, recently purchased from Fat Dave. The laptop works perfectly, is definitely legitimate and was very reasonably priced, just like several other electrical items in my possession, also courtesy of Fat Dave. And yet I still feel I’ve been had in some way.
Which is how I feel about the movies of Von Trier, many of which I have very much enjoyed over the years but never without a wary unease that he has in some way got one over on me. Well not this time, Antichrist is pure cobblers and only a doe eyed rube is going to fall for it.
An intense and rather theatrical two hander, Antichrist is the kind of piece where the actors are praised for their bravery. Some thirty five years ago grieving couple Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie tried to get over the loss of their child by distressing the bed sheets in Venice. Now Von Trier sends his couple out into a hut in the woods to get over a similar bereavement to undergo as series of emotional, physical, sexual and supernatural torments.
Written, he claims, during a bout of depression, AC is a blunt howl of anguish at everything and everyone. Its nihilistic despair is expressed in the time honoured way of the artist – by forcing actors to perform a series of demeaning and humiliating acts.
(These culminate in His and Her moments of, apparently graphic, genital mutilation - I can’t vouch for that myself as I was looking at the ceiling at the time. A terrible dereliction of duty I know but a triumpant moment of humanity at the same time. Look away now if you don’t want to know when to look away: around 75 minutes in when she attacks him in the shed and wrenches down his trousers – this one is a bit abrupt and could catch you off guard - and then around the 90 minute mark when she picks up the scissors but there is a very gradual build up to that one so you should know exactly when it is coming.)
The Von Trier oeuvre can be likened to a series of the Generation Game with Lars as Brucie putting actor through various embarrassing rituals. Rather hilariously Gainsbourg actually managed to pick up a prize from the conveyor belt, winning Best Actress at Cannes even though it’s the worst thing I’ve seen her in. She is normally a beguiling performer but apart from when she’s screaming obscenities, her delivery is so unvarying it’s like she’s saying the same line over again. Dafoe was a diffident Christ in Last Temptation and his not much more energised here.
It sure do look priddy tho. The look of the film is a return to the lush imagery of his earlier films. Von Trier dedicates the movie to Russian master movie maker Tarkovsky (which is nice of him as much of it is a rip off of Mirror) and if the great man had ever made a Timotei advert this is what it would have looked like.
Despite its desperation to provoke, it is ultimately a rather mild piece, easy to shrug off and forget. As empty, hateful, nihilistic gestures go it’s not a patch on Transformers 2.
