| Antichrist | |
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Ironically 'boring' is one of the many criticisms levelled against 'Antichrist' the latest piece of marmite cinema to emerge from the warped brain of Mr. von Trier. Disturbing, disgusting and distressing are also thrown into reviews liberally, alongside pretentious. But these criticisms belie a nasty fact about many of the critics who hate this film so much. They pack in so many films a week that in between chuckling at Will Ferrell and grinning at the antics of Denzel Washington, there is little space to give this intriguing essay on fear, loss and horror the time and energy it deserves. The haunting images, some carefully crafted to linger for days others mindlessly bludgeoned into audiences for pure impact, need time to be digested rather than to be hastily judged before dashing off to watch a stylish French gangster film. But my defence of Antichrist should not be based solely on an observation of those who've seen it so far. Let me move onto the film itself. Divided into three chapters, which are sandwiched between a prologue and an epilogue, the film unravels the relationship of a couple (named simply 'He' and 'She') as it... well, as it unravels. We open with an artful depiction of the death of their child. As the couple have sex the youngster escapes his gated bedroom and falls from a window. Far from simply establishing this basic pot preface, this scene is a work of genius which establishes the sensory code pursued throughout the film. Graphic close-ups of sex, combined with the almost euphoric music interact directly with the audience's senses, explaining the pleasurable distraction of the sex itself. Meanwhile, close-ups of the various elements which conspire to the toddler's demise - a washing machine, an open window, a loose child gate - provide the pieces of the puzzle we need to complete the narrative with a slow, grim certainty. Importantly, the three subsequent chapters are also introduced via a cluster of small ornaments representing the three beggars. After the death of their child, she falls into a depression or, as one psychologist puts it, suffers from 'atypical grief'. Her husband, being a therapist himself, believes he can treat her himself and, on discovering her fear of the woods, takes her to their woodland cabin to confront her fear. Within the three acts that take place here, von Trier challenges the boundaries of horror and psychoanalysis with a series of events and personality dissections that will have you vacillating between shock and nervous unease. The ultra slow-motion shots of Charlotte Gainsbourg's 'she' entering the forest, confronting her fear, creates an atmosphere that, transposed into conventional horror films, would have most critics drooling. The increasing horror derived from nature, too, is a superb way to change an entire forest into a dark and frightening location. Most impressive among his tools for doing so was the simple acorn. When hammering down on the ceiling in numbers he becomes perturbed, she then proceeds to enunciate that once she thought 'it's just acorns', but on thinking further wondered that if each oak lives for a hundred years then just one must survive each century. This means that the sound of the acorns on the roof is the sound of the deaths of thousands of children dying before they are even born. Its repetition in later scenes serves, therefore, not only as the usual unsympathetic sound of, say, a shower continuing after a fatal stabbing, but adds the constant reminder of the cruelty of nature. The commentary on relationships and human nature in part adopts psychology to enunciate an awful fight for control, and a battle between self-loathing and self-help, but also extends itself to satanism in horrific twist that allows von Trier to push the limits as far as only he can. It is here where the scenes, of which you will no doubt have heard of, appear and smash home the nasty conclusion of the horror film and all it proclaims to be addressing. It is cold, brutal and confusing as von Trier obstinately sticks to his use of cold sounds, slow camera movements and painful close-ups to form the most visceral impression of his vision. All of this leads to a chillingly surreal conclusion that is as absorbing as it is strange. It's brutal, horrific and often painful to watch, but that is what to many horror films dare not be any more. This is a must for anyone who claims to love that particular genre. As to pretentiousness, yes there is a lot embedded in this story (not least the director's heavy depression that he battled as he wrote and shot this project) but it is not mere showmanship, placed into a code that only film students can understand. From the first part of the first act, von trier is at pains to describe the visual code that is employed throughout the film. The camera tricks that convey the nausea, disorientation and sonic distortion that characterise anxiety, and these help us all grab a foothold in this insane ride through the mind of one of the most innovative directors of our time. I hope all of this convinces you that there are no excuses for any self-respecting film fan to ignore this movie. Rating: **** Starring: Willem Dafoe, Charlotte Gainsbourg Director: Lars von Trier Release date: 24th July 2009 Run time: 109 mins Certificate: 18 Review by Michael Edwards
If you like Lars, we wrote an outing of Movie Gospel just for you! Why not have a peek... Want more twisted horror? Check out our Martyrs review. Or for another mind-bender you might want a look at our Synecdoche New York review. |
Lars von Trier. Colourful, charismatic, controversial and, in this instance, condemned. But before I hasten to the defence of this much-maligned movie, let me ask you one thing: what would cinema be like without this man? I can answer that for you too. A lot more conventional and a lot more boring.
