> REVIEW
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Melancholia (2011)
Enjoy it while it lasts…
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By Carol Vine | September 2011
Artificial Eye©
WRITER/DIRECTOR: Lars von Trier
Melancholia is an un-boxable, outrageous and sense-battering work that is distressing as it is comical, and ultimately, breathtakingly beautiful.
The opening, a gorgeous slow motion sequence, with some extraordinary compositions, that quite literally depicts the end of the world as the planet Melancholia plunges into it, is a far cry from the bleak dogma of The Idiots (1998) and Dancer in the Dark (2000). Director Lars Von Trier’s shaky style is interlaced with exquisite, gliding and melodramatic shots of beauty, powerfully aided by Wagner’s enigmatic score. A visual, dauntless feast of gorgeous craziness.
The film, in two parts, tells the stories of two sisters, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) within the confines of a dysfunctional and fragmenting family, and the external threat of the oncoming apocalypse.
Part one belongs to Justine and her lavish wedding reception, paid for by her sister’s wealthy but money-conscious husband John (Keifer Sutherland) which is blighted and ultimately wrecked by her worsening and crippling state of depression. Much as she tries, she cannot stop the onset, and eventually it overwhelms her, destroying her marriage on the same day it happens. The sumptuous festivities are underpinned by a seeping sense of dread and unease, ending with cataclysmic awfulness as Justine eventually rejects her husband, sleeps with a virtual stranger and abuses her boss in a reckless and irreversible act of resignation.
Part two is from the stoic Claire’s perspective, the older sister, as she cares for the now virtually incapacitated Justine, and tries to contain her increasing anxiety about the planet Melancholia – coming closer to earth with every orbit. It’s this anxiety, along with concern for her sister’s well being, that pervades the second half, a constant reminder of impending doom.
But in spite of the looming planetary presence, this is as much a study of a family disintegrating. The family’s unravelling renders the ever-nearing threat of the physical planet almost insignificant, or perhaps simply an external manifestation of the ever-present and eventual catastrophic spiral into self-destruction.
Destruction is the theme here, and oddly, the beauty of it. Horrifying and compelling. Justine’s decline into her hellish illness ultimately gives her a knowledge and a freedom that is liberating. In a (somewhat expected) turn of dynamic, it is she, having been sapped of emotional life, who finds strength and resource at the astonishing end.
The planet Melancholia takes Justine out of herself, or is this simply a metaphor? Ultimately, a physical manifestation of her acceptance that “nothing will pass us by”. We’re on a collision course. For Justine, there is no life and the planet confirms what she already knows. It almost doesn’t need to be there, but without its enormous radiant beauty it would make for a very depressing film. It’s a painful, alluring external embodiment of the catastrophe of self.
Kirsten Dunst’s Justine is at times callous and increasingly dislikeable, which is testament to her remarkable and memorable performance – a true and unnervingly naked portrayal of bleak depression. It is also not without humour – a bold and intelligent move that contrasts sometimes a little too starkly with Charlotte Gainsbourg’s ultra-serious Claire.
There are some wonderful supporting performances from John Hurt as the childishly negligent father and Charlotte Rampling as the raggedly embittered mother – both of whom give wedding speeches of staggering cringe-factor. Then there’s the brilliant Stellan Skarsgard as Justine’s comically vile boss. None of these characters return for the second half of the film, which adds to the oppressive claustrophobia of the situation. We’re given no sense of the outside world, no global coverage at all of the impending disaster. Instead Lars weaves us further, and with suffocating intensity, into the family unit.
On occasion Von Trier has a tendency to precede a static shot with a static line, distinctive to his sometimes jagged dogma style, and probably coming about through his often-improvised way of working. There are also many areas of reiteration and exposition, and somewhat stilted dialogue – yet it’s this breaking of the “rules” that is so admirable about his work. Rather than jarring, these moments provide a necessary hiatus. The notion that “every” single moment has to forward and serve the narrative is overridden so often in Von Trier’s work, by the importance of the rhythm as a whole.
In Melancholia Von Trier has crafted a mesmerising, resplendent work that is agonising, absurd and ultimately feels like a gift. A fearless, poetic and slightly ludicrous reminder that there’s far more to cinema than three acts and a textbook – Von Trier creates a wave of tragic beauty that carries us, reeling, to the cathartic, breathtaking and inevitable climax.
This is not just a thinking person’s disaster film, but also a meditation on the end of the world, in every sense.
Script…………………………………………………………………………………………….
Expositional, sometimes rather stilted and occasionally melodramatic. Somehow Von Trier gets away with all this and created a moving, tragi-comic piece that ultimately seems well-paced. 4
Direction………………………………………………………………………………………..
Von Trier expertly goes his own way – coaxing magnificent and painful performances from his cast, and a tone of inevitable, beautiful doom. 4
Verdict…………………………………………………………………………………………..
A deeply affecting piece of work that lingers in the mind long after viewing. You’ll probably only ever see it once, but it must be seen. 5
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