When watching a Von Trier film, we should be judging the movie, not the man. More so here than in any other film he has made, Lars Von Trier has cemented his reputation as one of the most visionary, original directors working today. He has calmed down since his last schlock horror 'Antichrist' – and here we have a film of breathtaking visual beauty, its plot mimicking that of a bizarre contemporary opera, portraying nothing less than the end of the world.
The film, I have to stress again, is one of the most visually impressive we will see all year. From the opening scene, Von Trier's defiantly arty tastes shine through in a montage of slow motion sequences, inspired straight from disquieting masterpieces in both the art world ('Ophelia' springs to mind) and in the realms of cinema as well (it feels uncanny that only a few weeks after seeing 'Last Year in Marienbad', such a direct reference is made to the movie – who can mistake that garden with the perfectly geometric trees?). There is a scene early on in which Justine – the main character – opens art books at certain pages and leaves them lying out so that we can see the works in the distance. At times, in that prologue, you can imagine that these works have sprung to life in an aptly mesmerizing fashion.
In Part Two of the film, as the inevitable apocalypse draws closer, and nature begins to turn on itself, we are left dumbfounded by some of the images he conjures up, building up in intensity until the very last scene, as the planet 'Meloncholia' finally collides with Earth (NB: this isn't a spoiler – as an audience, it is explained from five minutes in that this is going to happen). But what a gut wrenching, deliriously intense crescendo he pulls out of the bag. The cinematography and the accompanying soundtrack are masterful. After a delightfully mysterious, breathtakingly opulent prologue, we are greeted with Part One of Two – named 'Justine' – after Kirsten Dunst's character. Justine has just got married to Michael, and they are making their way up to a castle (belonging to Justine's sister Claire – played by Charlotte Gainsbourg) for the reception in a white limousine – a vehicle notoriously difficult to manoeuvre round sharp bends. This opening scene is disarming. There are comic touches. The couple are happy – aren't they? Well – see for yourself. Part One deals almost exclusively with the couple's wedding night, and the disastrous reception party. Von Trier makes the most of his location – whether it be the vast interior of the castle or the sprawling golf course outside, bathed in artificial yellow light. It becomes apparent through a series of strange, beautifully handled sequences that Justine is in fact depressed and mentally ill, scarred by her parents' failed marriage and their present behaviour (John Hurt and Charlotte Rampling have some of the best lines in the film).
Part Two – the longer of the two sections – belongs to Justine's sister Claire. Of course, much has been made of Kirsten Dunst's performance (for which she won the Best Actress Award at Cannes), but I would say that she is unquestionably outshone by Gainsbourg here – who, as ever, is incredible. Her character is the most sympathetic – not only does she have to juggle her mentally ill sister with a somewhat unsympathetic husband (played by Kiefer Sutherland – who would have thought he would ever star in a Von Trier picture?), but also with the increasing anxiety that the planet 'Melancholia' is going to collide with Earth in a matter of days. Justine comes to stay with her sister for those final days, leading up to the apocalypse, and what ensues is nothing short of fascinating. The planet itself is seen in shots that could be paused, and the stills put up in an art gallery – the disquietingly erotic scene in which Justine wanders to the river bank and lies naked, bathed in the light bouncing off the planet in the middle of the night – will be ingrained on your memory long after leaving the cinema.
Of course, there are flaws. His script, for me, is chief among these: at times, it feels horribly like a first draft. As ever with Von Trier, he raises a lot of points and incorporates many themes (the evil of human existence – as dealt with in his previous film 'Antichrist' – crops up here yet again) – but very few are explored to any significant depth. The most successful exploration of a theme here is Justine's depression – which is handled marvellously. However, watching the film with a pinch of salt certainly wouldn't hurt.
That said, I for one was blown away by the film's originality. It is a mad, maddening, bizarre melodrama, and perhaps it is indeed pretentious - but watching it is like gazing at an exquisite work of art in motion. Two films this year have explored the cosmos and it's relation to us as human beings ('The Tree of Life' is the other). In some respects, these two films shouldn't even be compared – The Tree of Life is the far better film of the two in any case, and definitely deserved the Palme D'Or. But it is interesting to see the variation on a theme – one film a devastatingly beautiful, honest, humble exploration of human existence and the other – a manipulative, shamelessly gaudy and depressing slice of operatic tragedy.
But 'Melancholia', in its own, unique way, is stunning; years from now, I have no doubt it will be considered a masterpiece. Until then, suffice it to say that this is the best film that Lars Von Trier has made in a long time. Let's hope this is the start of a trend!
The film, I have to stress again, is one of the most visually impressive we will see all year. From the opening scene, Von Trier's defiantly arty tastes shine through in a montage of slow motion sequences, inspired straight from disquieting masterpieces in both the art world ('Ophelia' springs to mind) and in the realms of cinema as well (it feels uncanny that only a few weeks after seeing 'Last Year in Marienbad', such a direct reference is made to the movie – who can mistake that garden with the perfectly geometric trees?). There is a scene early on in which Justine – the main character – opens art books at certain pages and leaves them lying out so that we can see the works in the distance. At times, in that prologue, you can imagine that these works have sprung to life in an aptly mesmerizing fashion.
In Part Two of the film, as the inevitable apocalypse draws closer, and nature begins to turn on itself, we are left dumbfounded by some of the images he conjures up, building up in intensity until the very last scene, as the planet 'Meloncholia' finally collides with Earth (NB: this isn't a spoiler – as an audience, it is explained from five minutes in that this is going to happen). But what a gut wrenching, deliriously intense crescendo he pulls out of the bag. The cinematography and the accompanying soundtrack are masterful. After a delightfully mysterious, breathtakingly opulent prologue, we are greeted with Part One of Two – named 'Justine' – after Kirsten Dunst's character. Justine has just got married to Michael, and they are making their way up to a castle (belonging to Justine's sister Claire – played by Charlotte Gainsbourg) for the reception in a white limousine – a vehicle notoriously difficult to manoeuvre round sharp bends. This opening scene is disarming. There are comic touches. The couple are happy – aren't they? Well – see for yourself. Part One deals almost exclusively with the couple's wedding night, and the disastrous reception party. Von Trier makes the most of his location – whether it be the vast interior of the castle or the sprawling golf course outside, bathed in artificial yellow light. It becomes apparent through a series of strange, beautifully handled sequences that Justine is in fact depressed and mentally ill, scarred by her parents' failed marriage and their present behaviour (John Hurt and Charlotte Rampling have some of the best lines in the film).
Part Two – the longer of the two sections – belongs to Justine's sister Claire. Of course, much has been made of Kirsten Dunst's performance (for which she won the Best Actress Award at Cannes), but I would say that she is unquestionably outshone by Gainsbourg here – who, as ever, is incredible. Her character is the most sympathetic – not only does she have to juggle her mentally ill sister with a somewhat unsympathetic husband (played by Kiefer Sutherland – who would have thought he would ever star in a Von Trier picture?), but also with the increasing anxiety that the planet 'Melancholia' is going to collide with Earth in a matter of days. Justine comes to stay with her sister for those final days, leading up to the apocalypse, and what ensues is nothing short of fascinating. The planet itself is seen in shots that could be paused, and the stills put up in an art gallery – the disquietingly erotic scene in which Justine wanders to the river bank and lies naked, bathed in the light bouncing off the planet in the middle of the night – will be ingrained on your memory long after leaving the cinema.
Of course, there are flaws. His script, for me, is chief among these: at times, it feels horribly like a first draft. As ever with Von Trier, he raises a lot of points and incorporates many themes (the evil of human existence – as dealt with in his previous film 'Antichrist' – crops up here yet again) – but very few are explored to any significant depth. The most successful exploration of a theme here is Justine's depression – which is handled marvellously. However, watching the film with a pinch of salt certainly wouldn't hurt.
That said, I for one was blown away by the film's originality. It is a mad, maddening, bizarre melodrama, and perhaps it is indeed pretentious - but watching it is like gazing at an exquisite work of art in motion. Two films this year have explored the cosmos and it's relation to us as human beings ('The Tree of Life' is the other). In some respects, these two films shouldn't even be compared – The Tree of Life is the far better film of the two in any case, and definitely deserved the Palme D'Or. But it is interesting to see the variation on a theme – one film a devastatingly beautiful, honest, humble exploration of human existence and the other – a manipulative, shamelessly gaudy and depressing slice of operatic tragedy.
But 'Melancholia', in its own, unique way, is stunning; years from now, I have no doubt it will be considered a masterpiece. Until then, suffice it to say that this is the best film that Lars Von Trier has made in a long time. Let's hope this is the start of a trend!