Antichrist is a film which surrounds itself with an intangible, yet undeniable, aura of Olympian, or perhaps Styxian, grandeur. First there is the title with its connotations of the apocalyptic and the blasphemous. Then there’s the reputation of the director himself – though already an accomplished filmmaker in the 1990s, Lars von Trier has made himself the cinematic bete noir of this young century, a veritable lightning rod for controversy. His psychologically brutal methods with actors have earned criticism (it’s said that Bjork vowed never to appear in a film again after enduring Dancer in the Dark), while his storylines garner accusations of misogyny and anti-Americanism. With his devilishly grinning visage and intellectually refined sadism, he himself strikes a cutting figure in public appearances and even in his own movies: the 2003 documentary The Five Obstructions saw him torture one of his idols, the older director Jorgen Leth. Von Trier forced Lethe to remake a classic short film over and over under various conditions, all of them set, with perverse pleasure, by von Trier himself (on one occasion, he rather obscenely forced Lethe to hold a banquet in front of starving Calcuttans; on another, von Trier himself takes over directorial duties, violating his own rules and holding Lethe responsible for the violation).
Yet undergirding – perhaps even motivating – all this diabolical cruelty, nastiness, and alienating misanthropy is the suggestion of a moral vision. Is this morality merely a front, a charade, as von Trier’s most vociferous critics seem to suggest? Or does von Trier, engaging in the very evil he claims to condemn, only strengthen his moral outrage by including himself in its aim? All these questions are liable to spin around in a viewer’s head while watching one of the Dane’s films, but to be fair, such questions are usually overtly suggested onscreen as well. Not so much this time. While Dogville, The Five Obstructions, and Dancer in the Dark (I’ve seen neither Manderlay nor The Boss of It All) are all evasive and tricky, their purposes are not as obscure as that of Antichrist. This new film, starring Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg, is narratively straightforward and stylistically far more conventional than much of von Trier’s recent work. By the ending its themes are clear enough: violence towards women, masochism masked as sadism, the collapse of smug rationalism. The story is always rather easy to follow, with some scenes consisting of nearly undisguised exposition, and the remarkably uncluttered cast certainly make the characters easy to keep track of (there are no speaking parts except for Dafoe’s and Gainsbourg’s; and all the extras have their faces blurred out). Even much of the initially obscure symbolism – the deformed animals who haunt the film, the wife’s obsessive thesis paper, the strange chapter headings (“Grief,” “Despair,” “Pain”) – is clarified by the climax. Yes, the “what” is not so hard to ascertain. What’s more elusive is the “why.”
The “what” is roughly as follows – and the reader is advised to stop here if he or she wishes to know no more about the plot (personally, I scrupulously avoided any synopses before going in, sensing that the notorious-sounding movie was best experienced with fresh eyes and ears). A couple, grieving for the loss of their young boy, who wandered about one night and fell out a window, attempts to deal with grief through psychoanalysis. The husband is a rather arrogant psychologist, his wife a scholar who was writing a thesis on the subject of “gynocide,” focusing on the persecution of women as witches in the Middle Ages. Aggressively rational, almost bullying at times, the husband tries to convince the wife that her fears are unfounded, and even takes her to the center of her nightmares – a cabin in the middle of a wood simply called “Eden” – to confront her fears. There, he begins to have his own doubts and question both his wife’s sanity and the legitimacy of her terrible intimations about “Nature.” That’s the story, but what’s harder to get ahold of is the flitting mood, occasionally ethereal, often intense, yet never quite experienced head-on, except in the beginning.
Antichrist opens with a sequence of stunning virtuosity, one of the most breathtaking I’ve experienced in years. With crisp black-and-white photography, sharp as a razor and lit like a dream, all action cranked down to the slow-motion point of melancholy drift, von Trier captures He (Willem Dafoe) and She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) in the shower. Each droplet of water is as clear as a frozen bullet and as if the visuals weren’t achingly transportive enough, a deeply moving rendition of Handel’s “Rinaldo” scores the entire passage. Yet pristine as the imagery is, freely as the elevated emotions flow, the moment is rife with subversion. He and She are passionately screwing in the shower, and later in bed, with full-on close-ups of penetration leaving little to the imagination. And as a toothbrush slips from its perch near the showerhead, cascading gracefully before it bounces off the orgasmic Gainsbourg’s shoulder, it’s hard to suppress laughter at von Trier’s cheeky ability to include the ridiculous alongside the sublime.
Adding to the discomfort of the scene are the frequent cutaways to a little boy in pajamas, who at one point clearly stands in the same frame as his naked parents, who ignore him in the throes of their own passion. There are also repeated shots of a dryer, as beautifully lit as the fairy-tale child’s room or the amorous bodies, whirling away in some forgotten corner of the room. Again, we laugh, and wonder: what’s going on? The beautification of consumer products casts an uneasy light upon the whole scene, the innocent child and the primal couple alike. It suggests that all the artistic sheen of this sequence is somehow phony, little more than a glorified TV commercial or print ad (reminiscent of one of the Five Obstructions in which von Trier forces Lethe to reshoot his classic film as a slick, “arty” Euro-ad). Indeed, the ability of this “Prologue” (as it’s titled) to evoke the aesthetics of advertising, the emotions of art, and the occasional imagery of pornography all in one fell swoop is remarkable and unsettling. The sequence concludes when the little boy, clutching a badly-used teddy bear steps up onto a window sill, slips, and falls into the snow below, as gracefully as that toothbrush in the shower stall, but with far more gruesome results. A dark stain splashes across the fluffy white ground; more poignantly, the sad-looking little bear busts open, its threadbare arm finally shaking itself loose upon landing next to the boy – an indirect evocation of innocence’s destruction.
There’s little else in the film to echo the visceral power of this scene, this confusing emotional sway, and richly provocative aesthetic. An epilogue echoes the approach without quite reaching the crescendo; throughout the movie there are dreamy passages of slow-motion, shot in color, which also capture that indelibly iconic quality of the opening. However, the majority of the movie is shot in a handheld, roughly realistic style, indulging in frequent and at times claustrophobic close-ups of the actors, with medium shots when necessary to capture the action. There’s a passing similarity here to von Trier’s much-vaunted Dogme video aesthetic of the 90s, and indeed the whole film was shot on digital (though the prologue and epilogue’s HD is fully cinematic, the bulk of the film feels very much like video). However, unlike the raw pull of the Dogme or pseudo-Dogme films, Antichrist feels fairly conventional. Perhaps, in part, because the raw, off-the-cuff style has become our culture’s dominant aesthetic with the advent of reality television and ascent of Paul Greengrass’ shakey-cam action films – suddenly the trappings of “up close and personal” cinema no longer seem so subversive or shocking. Furthermore, the dialogue is at times didactic, as the actors struggle (mostly with success) to humanize their all-purpose protagonists. All in all, the style and scripting of the film can feel a little disappointing at times; von Trier closes the film with a dedication to visionary Soviet director Andrei Tarkovsky, but one finds oneself wishing that the truly Tarkovskyian moments weren’t so few and far between, like all-too-fleeting visitors from another more mystical, all-too-missed dimension.
Yet within its own stylistic constraints, the film is fluid, effective, fully controlled – if one leaves the theater disappointed in a sense, perhaps somewhat confused, one also is left with the lingering suspicion that one nonetheless may have witnessed greatness. There are enough gorgeous moments throughout (these moments are referred to as “test footage” in the credits) to keep the viewer intrigued – and ultimately these linger even longer than the gruesome violence serving as the film’s centerpiece and probably the source of its notoriety. If you’ve stuck around this long, be aware that major, and quite nasty, spoilers lie around. You see, ultimately She – who has already acknowledged a belief in the responsibility of women for their own historic persecution – attacks He, bashing him in a rather tender spot and then, while he’s unconscious, doing something which shall go unmentioned in this piece. Finally, she drills a hole in his leg, inserting a rod and connecting it to a stone wheel in order to keep him “bound.” Fears of castration are ultimately confirmed, but not in the sense we expected – she wields the rusty scissors on herself in a close-up which, I must confess, I didn’t watch but for a frame after the jump cut.
Finally, after awakening, crawling into a hole out in the woods, and unsuccessfully attempting to clobber a crow whose squawking betrays his hiding place, the man frees himself and strangles his wife to death. She has already warned him that someone must die when the Three Beggars – Grief, Despair, and Pain, represented by a deer (with a deformed fetus growing out of its anus), a fox, and the aforementioned crow – appear. The animals arrive but she hardly struggles with her husband while he disarms her and unscrews his heavy constraint. Retrospectively, it seems clear that her abuse of him was only to ensure retribution: when he kills her, it’s the final fulfillment of her self-loathing (ever-present in the wake of her son’s death, which she may have caused – inadvertently? on purpose? – by putting his shoes on the wrong feet).
This leads to the vaguely perplexing conclusion in which Dafoe leaves Eden, his own Eve lying lifeless in its center. Handel soars on the soundtrack once again, the imagery returns to its original monochrome hues and stylized framing, and Dafoe looks about him with disbelief. A flock of women slowly emerge out of the woods where, in earlier, darker moments, we viewed masses of knotted dead bodies strewn through the soil. Has She, (anti?)Christlike, liberated their souls from purgatory and cleansed their sins? Is sinfulness the wrong way to look at it – was she the ultimate martyr, with their “resurrection” merely a reminder of the brutality women suffered at men’s hands throughout history, usually from those who – like He – thought they were doing right? Or are they a silent reminder to Dafoe’s character of the tradition he belongs to? Why are their faces still blurred? As with the tolling bells at the end of Breaking the Waves, the appearance of this woodland sisterhood blurs the line between female martyrdom and objectifying sexism – supposedly von Trier had a “misogyny” expert on the set during this shoot, but she may have been out for a coffee break when this scene went before the cameras.
Ultimately, the conclusion, like the rest of the film is as fascinating as it is vexing. It will take multiple viewings – if one can withstand the sordid sadism of the final act – to decode all the film’s allusions and symbols, to analyze its correspondence to greater archetypes as well as its inner dramatic connections (the “meaning” as well as the “story”), and to determine why the hell that fox looks up at Dafoe halfway through, and loudly hisses, in a voice worthy of Gollum, “Chaos reigns.” All of that will be fun, to be sure, but there’s a more important question: does the film work? Does it move, does it captivate, does it illuminate? At times, yes, but for the bulk, I’m not so sure. As some sort of a mad allegory, for the historical relations of the sexes, the relationship between reason and intuition in human society, the position of the director himself in relation to his subjects – and indeed the connectedness of these various subtexts to one another – no doubt reams of essays could be written about the movie.
Yet as an emotional experience the film struck an uneasy balance between the archetypal and the specific. At times, our distance from the characters, despite the commitment of the performances, was hard to surmount given the lack of a relatable world around them – or indeed, any world at all. And the levels of mystification von Trier piles onto the movie, from the hypnotic black-and-white footage to the scrawled chapter headings to the very title itself, repeatedly make us step back and question what we’re seeing, instead of falling under its spell. Such may be the point, but is it an ideal one? Yet there’s enough there to warrant a second look, and perhaps a deeper discovery. Like that hideous little fox, von Trier hisses his warning at us, but he knows we can’t resist. And so we follow him yet again into that deep, dark glen, into a Nature that, as the film’s characters note at one point, could be that external threatening Nature or else the human nature within. Either way, it’s one cruel mother.
[Originally this post provided a link to my piece, which was first posted on the Examiner. As of 1/29/10, it has been moved here in its entirety.]
Well it’s quite an essay, one I fully anticipated. To cull summary judgement out of any of your reviews is never an easy task, but I don’t remotely say that in a bad sense, as it’s clear you generally shy away from definitive positions, much to your credit. As I stated in previous threads, I don’t buy the mysogony arguments, as Von Trier’s past work doesn’t convince in this regard. It has been confirmed by those close to the director that he was mired in a deep state of depression when he conceived ANTICHRIST, and it’s bleakness and brutality was his way of lashing out. It’s a film ripe for all sorts of interpretations and it’s prime for re-viewings (as you note yourself here more than once) but in the end it’s like any other difficult film: it will appeal or revulse the sensibilities, and will always be seen as a vision of this most controversial of directors.
As I noted in my own review, which admittedly was far different in approach than yours, beyond everything it’s a wholly original concept, and love it or hate it, it’s exceedingly powerful stuff, for me one of the year’s best films. But I know a number of others, including a few extremely well-respected people at this site who were repulsed by it.
Two excellent reviews in the same week on the same film. I think Mr. Bocko framed Von Trier perfectly. But I agree with Sam that he was one mightily depressed individual.
“Yet undergirding – perhaps even motivating – all this diabolical cruelty, nastiness, and alienating misanthropy is the suggestion of a moral vision. Is this morality merely a front, a charade, as von Trier’s most vociferous critics seem to suggest? Or does von Trier, engaging in the very evil he claims to condemn, only strengthen his moral outrage by including himself in its aim?”
These are the pertinent questions that would be the outgrowth of a viewing of this film. But even if there ere answers, many viewers would still still reject the moral disinigration of a mind that has actually conceived of such abominable thoughts. Still, a very compelling argument can be made that this is art, and you later pose such a theory.
I must cast my lot with those who are urging an all-encompassing view of art. It’s not always pretty, but that should not detract for the artistic merit. When I watched Dancer in the Dark I didn’t see any psychotic director behind the camera. This is one instance where Von Trier traveled all the way to the dark side. That’s permissable in art. We can’t allow ourselves to take this personal.
Nothing like being repetitious Joe, but in this instance I must say you are right on the mark as far as I’m concerned.
This one will really take some courage on my part to watch. But as you guys have deemed it important enough to write two reviews on it, I guess it’s vital. Joel Bocko raises a number of ideas in his amazing review, which I can’t answer one way or another until I see it.
………I was waiting to hear about the ‘dogme’ cinematic style introduced years back by Von Trier and other Scandinavians. Antichrist doesn’t appear to totally conform, those as you mention in your review it is shot on video. Would it be safe to say that this film was really a very bad dream on Von Trier’s part?……..
This is some tremendous writing here in the Boston Examiner, and I’m left with the old adage that ‘beauty in in the eyes of the beholder.’ I have not seen this film as of yet, but I have read extensively on it. One reviewer, who hated it, made comparisons with the ‘Saw’ franchise, which I thought was funny. Others feel it’s the highest level of art. Still others see both points of view, as Mr. Bocko clearly does. Unless you are predisposed to regard such ghoulish proceedings as over-the-top humorous, it’s a ‘travel at your own risk’ kind of proposition.
Hey John, great to see you back in action! That SAW franchise comparison is hysterical, but of course it sells this film short by several miles. But I know the nay-sayers were spewing vitrol all over the place on this one.
Fine review! Unfotunately, that “sordid sadism” you speak of in the final act will probably disaude most viewers from engaging in an encore.
Listen, I don’t buy it. Just because the film is repulsive, violent and degrading doesn’t mean. Its not “good” or “art”. Stephen King, best-selling-to-the-point-of-night-sweats author, consistantly repulses and shocks and it doesn’t deter new readers from discovering his work. And King isn’t even a true artist. The thing here is that its VON TRIER, a director who has made his bones, in the past, by raising deep moral question through some of the ugliest dituations. BREAKING THE WAVES sets the tone and I’ve rarely come across anyone who has lashed out against that great film. And as far as Von Trier being tough on his performers and crew, I say fuck them. Name one thing that Bjork or Emily Watson has EVER done that even comes remotely close to the great work they’ve score with this director. He might repulse, but in the end he leaves you thinking about ourselves. Now, that’s art! Fine essay Joel. Your pal, Dennis
Great responses from everyone. I don’t have too much to say in response at the moment but I’m hoping to read some other reviews of the film and come back with more perspective to add to the discussion. So far I’ve only read Sam’s, as I was holding off before writing my own piece. However, even the discussion under Sam’s piece already started sending me in new directions (I hadn’t thought much about the film as an expression of the artist’s own emotional state) so I can’t wait to see what others have to say. (I understand Stephen has a very enthusiastic piece up on his own site, which I look forward to checking out).
I would have to say it’s the height of irony that Von Trier used the Biblical allegory of the Garden of Eden to to present one of the most inherently evil stories that could possibly be conjured up. Whether or not his sensibilities stay the corse throughout his career, he did this one time sink to the utter depths of despair and degradation that has rarely been seen on the screen. One can think of Pasolini’s SALO as evincing the same kind of mind-set, but it’s clear pasolini’s attack was on the bourgeiosie and the proletariats.
I liked reading this MovieMan, nice job. I disagree with with many of your points (such as the misogyny ect, but you can read those on Sam’s pieces thread–which it appears you have), but your piece is mostly in the positive which I agree with.
Your section on the opening prologue as perhaps a take on arty European commercials is quite succinct and accurate. I hadn’t thought of that connection before but your connection to the toothbrush (ect) makes it very valid and interesting. This is the von Trier making a clever rib on us; showing us that beautiful images are easy for him, but what he’s interested in is what is real, emotional, and raw. Thus making all the claims of his films being ‘ugly’ sort of the point. This is why I don’t quite get your wanting the rest of the film to look like this (like a Tarkovsky), I feel it would pain von Trier to do it like this (a fact I feel you’d agree with)… he would feel like a commercial director of no substance.
That and if you want a Tarkovsky, you should watch a Tarkovsky. ‘The Mirror’ seems to be the Tarkovsky film von Trier is most after here.
A thing I’ve thought about recently in relation to the prologue, is it’s last shot; of white sheets tumbling in a dryer. I thought it in the theater, and since I’ve been able to watch it again at home and really study it, thought it even more so; the shot looks intentionally to evoke the planet earth from outer space. I wish I could screen cap it and post it for others to see and compare. What this says at the end of this sequence, and to start the color (and proper) part of the film is rather obvious to me.
…
Another thought I’ve had on the film after seeing it twice in the theaters is how many (25-35 year old) ‘hip’ couples were seeing it. Countless times I heard them ask the ticket sellers if it was ‘as intense’ as they had heard, then being quite shaken by the end. I’d watch their reactions (the second time I saw it) and they’d all look away during moments of intensity. What struck me is this: I recall reading countless essays on filmgoing in the 60’s and 70’s in America when porn theaters would show arty European fair that young swinger couples would watch for the glimpse of nudity (this idea is expressed in the film ‘Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice’ from 1969). More often then not getting stuck watching a Bergman or Rohmer that they didn’t really want to. This paradigm for our generation is not to see nudity, but to see extreme intensity and/or graphic violence. I find this shift to be quite interesting and telling of our culture.
Jamie: While I’m sure Joel will happily acknowledge this submission, I just want to again tell you how brilliant some, if not all your submissions are at WitD. I also hadn’t thought of that European commercial thing in that astonishing opening sequence (I was thinking of a post on the year’s ‘greatest individual scenes’ and I though of that one, the bar scene in Denis’s 35 SHOTS OF RUM and the opening scrapbook segment in Pixar’s UP as prime candidates, among others.) but Von Trier’s may well have been telling is the ravishing stuff was easy for him, so what?
How true it is when you pose that the ‘paradigm’ of our society to watch sickening depravity and not nudity. In any case, I won’t deny that I look away from the screen on more than one occasion including the smashing of the testicles, where as Joel rightly notes you didn’t quite see what was promised, not that you would want to.
More often then not getting stuck watching a Bergman or Rohmer that they didn’t really want to.
Or “I am Curious: Yellow,” which was probably the quintessentially falsely advertised non-porn art film of its time (or so I’ve gathered).
Very interesting social commentary here, Jamie, and I have to agree with you, particularly due to the rise of “gore-porn” and its brethren, which astonishingly has become the de rigueur date fare (cf graphic shows like “Dexter,” etc). I must admit I’m in something of an atypical 25-35 “hip” couple, so I don’t often indulge in that kind of film-going (I watched “Antichrist” on my iPod, in bed, in the middle of the night, with my wife kicking me throughout to stop laughing), but when I was covering “The Final Destination” for the Rotten Tomatoes Show I was flabbergasted at the number of similarly-aged, clearly romantically-linked dyads there were.
Where will all end? A blood orgy (to mirror the climax of “Bob & Carol, etc”?
Fantastic. Yes, I am Curious: Yellow is what I am talking about here. Sadly, I haven’t seen that or the other one, Blue. Can anyone recommend?
I enjoy your The Final Destination story, I can picture it in my mind as a fan of horror films, I’ve seen that situation countless times. I have two friends I went to College with that still live in my native Cleveland, that are always wanting new (or old if they are renting and staying in) art film recommendations so that they can name drop these the next time they are with friends. It’s hilarious… I recommended Antichrist to both, but was honest about it’s graphic qualities. The one couple rented it on ondemand at home and turned it off, and called me to complain I would recommend such filth, and the other friend seemed miffed that I would think his wife (or him by proxy) would need such a ‘reservation’ from me (almost to puff out the chest and say, “I’m just as cultured as you, I–We can take it!”)… needless to say they saw it, and she is still unhappy about the experience. Hilarious.
I recall the same couples that wanted ‘intense’ (and got that and more) that I spoke of originally not watching lengthy portions of the last sequence. Then this last time, when the film ended they stumbled out in a daze to a large cardboard statue erected in the lobby that was split down the middle and offered a pro vs. con debate on the film from all the major critics… they of course all read this (even forming a queue to do so). I gleefully pictured them all going to a bar afterward to discuss with similar hip couples over 12 dollar apple martini’s, and quoting these excerpts since they hadn’t watch twenty plus minutes of the last act. Oh the banal humanity! Oh well, I skipped martini’s and opted for my iPod, a cold night, and a few Kools. Now if only Buñuel was around to make a film about these people! The Exterminating Angel set in a movie theater, does that work, or do you insist on a blood orgy climax to mirror Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice? (LOL) BTW, I think I’ve seen a horror filmed actually called Blood Orgy, but I’ll have to check.
As for what I listened to fresh from the theater (if anyone is interested) after watching this von Trier: first it was ‘We Carry On’ from Portishead’s Three, then as much of The Fantômas Delirium Cordia as time permitted, in my 35 minute walk home.
Jamie,
You’re correct, I think, about von Trier’s intentions but the opening, complications and all, moved me far more than anything else in the movie. I think the notion that sticking with this aesthetic would be “selling out” is ironic since commercial cinema is no longer beautiful, but rather gritty, ugly, and ephemeral. Indeed, the approach von Trier took to the rest of the film, while legitimate and well-done, was not any great departure from your usual TV drama look nowadays. So this opening, while obviously taking a bit of a poke at classically “beautiful” photography, was in a sense more subversive than the bulk of the film (and not only in the sense that it was subverting this beauty, which it was, but also that the beauty in and of itself was a sort of subversion.)
Hence, in part, my disappointment. The “gritty” look is not only less exhilirating than the transcendental visuals he tapped into every now and then, it’s also a lot more conventional, by 2009 standards.
Ultimately, no, I don’t think it would have been wise to shoot the whole film with that eerie, uncanny vibe. With repeat viewings I might even come to accept the handheld/close-up approach as the best expression possible of his vision here. I already suspect it might be so. And yet I also have to admit I was not as satisfied, or involved, by it. C’est la vie…
As for the rest, whatever the frustration with my current lifestyle, it leaves me with neither time nor resources to indulge a concern with “hip” youth culture, a fact for which I shed no tears.
I’ll re-post here what I said under Sam’s review. But for the second time at this site the film gets exceptional treatment.
I’m almost tempted to question Mr. Von Trier’s “maturity” when he makes a film like this. What is he trying to tell us? Yeah, we got much of the same (albeit in a more civilized vein) with Charlie Kaufman’s ‘Synecdoche, New York” and the same issues arise. What is being told to us here that we don’t already know, and why must be submit to this kind of hopeless despair?
[…] for the first time. Travel home from the theater, raw emotions, etc). Then, Joel had a second crack here (originally appeared at the Examiner), that prompted me to respond with this (it was after my second […]
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