I will have to tear myself away from examining Von Trier's career more deeply, other than to say that I loved 'Dogville' for its performances, conceptual approach and skilled direction. I will not dispute the anticipation with which I continue to view his work - a sentiment which no doubt reflected also in his enduring ability to draw some of cinema's biggest talents against a backdrop of criticism. His name alone, at the beginning of Antichrist, inspired laughter from the Cannes audience in the self indulgent introduction to the film. In my mind, Von Trier's career seems to revolve around making rules for himself and playing by them to great success, however, from a critic's perspective, he thinly treads the line between genius and nonsense. Either way, he shows no intention of adjusting this course and I have to respect his unrelenting faithfulness to his neuroses, regardless of a very possible chemical imbalance. It is clear to me that every ounce of absurdity is underpinned by emotion, auteurist style, and artistic prowess. For these reasons I will no doubt continue to follow his work.
I now realise that I have fallen into the trap of further indulging Von Trier for two paragraphs rather than addressing the matter at hand - 'Melancholia'. It appears I am as susceptible to controversy as any other film enthusiast.
Melancholia is a film divided into two chapters - each dealing with its eponymous protagonists. The first focuses upon 'Justine', played by Kirsten Dunst. The second switches its emphasis to 'Claire' (Justine's sister), played by Charlotte Gainsbourg (Antichrist). After a stunningly shot introduction of blissful apocalyptic beauty, set against a backdrop of a serene and paradoxically resigned score, the film begins a dreary and disjointed meander to its finale. Following over two hours of tedious dialogue - the end result only partly salvaged by a truly great cast - the film reaches yet another beautifully shot denouement which sadly serves as little reward for a clumsily and indulgently under-developed plot. Stylistically, the introduction and ending of Melancholia replicate that of Antichrist in their slow motion photographic aesthetic. Impressive as this may be, they merely frame the anti-climax of unfulfilled potential during the interim.
The first chapter guides us through the wedding party of Justine and her new husband Michael (Alexander Skarsgard), in which an ostensibly tense and uninterested reception have awaited their late arrival and the ensuing rigmarole of formalities of which they are still obliged to partake. We are made increasingly aware of the contradiction of a miserable wedding day. The wedding party are disproportionately unenthused by proceedings, as well as the fact that they have been made to wait to begin them. This culminates swiftly when one of which even denounces the institution of marriage during her speech. To begin with, Justine and Michael appear the only ones to be enjoying the experience, as the crowd look on in 'knowingly' prophetic austerity. Soon enough Justine's demeanour becomes increasingly despondent - the reason we do not know, but coincides with the pathetic fallacy of an already blighted atmosphere and constant references to the celestial presence of an approaching planet, referred to as 'Melancholia'.
During the development of this narrative thread there are some great performances by pretty much all involved, but the plot lacks the cohesion to bind these performances, or even to develop in a way that keeps the audience interested. Ultimately the first half of the film comes across as clumsy and self insistent. This is then only exacerbated in the second half of the film as we have less characters and proceedings to distract us. The second chapter follows Claire and her husband 'John' (Kiefer Sutherland) in their conflicting anticipation of Melancholia's approach - Justine now in the debilitating depths of depression, and Claire becoming increasingly frightened. Von Trier cleverly uses supporting characters such as John and Claire's son 'Leo' to examine both denial and the ignorance of innocence as valid, but ultimately flawed coping mechanisms.
I do not deny that Von Trier's examination of depression upon the human psyche (perhaps a retrospective visit to the experiences that inspired the despair of Antichrist) employs themes and symbolism that make way for beautifully artistic presentation throughout the film. The effects of depression and the ways in which we adapt to deal with them are an important enough subject to justify addressing. I was particularly impressed by intelligent references to aspects of captivity, desperation, inducement, inevitability, despondence, resignation, and isolation among peers. Von Trier displays great knowledge of this topic. However, a disjointed and drawn out approach undermines the development of the above themes, despite the fine efforts of Kiefer Sutherland, Alexander Skarsgard, Stellan Skarsgard (Dogville), John Hurt (...also Dogville), Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg.Indeed, by the film's beautiful finale I was able to relate to the character of Justine - if only in the fact that I was similarly beyond caring.
