by Pat Perry
“The earth is evil. We don’t need to grieve for it.”
Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia is, in the simplest terms, the story of a wedding, two sisters and the end of the world.
At its deepest level, it presents the destruction of the earth as metaphor for a clinical depression that renders all human ritual and activity essentially meaningless and futile.
It’s a work of science fiction as well, although the science it’s based on is apparently specious. Type “Melancholia movie science” into any search engine, and you’ll find a plethora of posts by scientists (both amateur and professional) grumbling about the “implausible” planetary “dance of death” that winds a slow and sinister thread through the film to its explosive climax.(In a nutshell, they’ll tell you it’s impossible for a planet to come out of hiding from behind the sun and smash into the earth within a matter of days, per the film’s depiction. Rather, those unlikely events would play out over many years.)
As apocalyptic dramas go, Melancholia is unusually intimate in scope and decidedly low-tech. It’s not so much about the end of all mankind as it is about the end of a small, sequestered family group. The deadly approach of the rogue planet is mostly measured through a loop of wire attached to a stick.
But this is a Lars Von Trier film, and Von Trier has never played to standard audience expectations. Like all of his best work, Melancholia is equal parts transcendent and absurd – chilling or heartbreaking in one moment, completely wack-a-doo in the next. I well remember seeing it on its opening night in 2011 at a suburban art-house theater; the audience hooted with derision throughout much of it, and many of them complained noisily all the way out of the auditorium. (What had they been expecting? Obviously these people had not been fans of Dogville or Dancer in the Dark, let alone Anti-Christ. Or even seen them, for than matter.) My boyfriend also hated it and we had a fairly rancorous argument about it on the drive home. But that’s the way it goes with the director I fondly refer to as Mr. Shaky-Cam Provocateur – he’s a divider, not a uniter. Based on my experiences of discussing his other films, I’m looking forward to some lively debate on the comments thread for this post.
The film commences with a striking but enigmatic series of still and slow-motion shots depicting, among other things, dead birds falling from the sky around a gloomy young woman (Kirsten Dunst), a shot of the same woman in a bridal gown attempting to stride through a thicket of gray, wooly growth attaching itself to her legs, and a beautiful yet terrifying image of the earth being destroyed in a collision with a much larger planet. All are underscored by Wagner’s mournful overture to “Tristan und Isolde” (which will become a recurring theme on the soundtrack.) This prologue is lovely to look at but utterly baffling on your first viewing of the film; the meaning of those images will become much clearer once you have seen it. They comprise a sort of cryptic trailer for the film to come. (Manohla Dargis exhaustively analyzed the sequence in this memorable New York Times article.)
The two sisters of the film’s narrative are played, impeccably, by Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg. Dunst’s Justine is the subject of the film’s first chapter, which shows her slowly unraveling through her own lavish wedding reception. If her early scenes as a giggly, rapturous bride seem so over the top as to be fake, that is by intention. Justine, it soon becomes apparent, is a severely depressed woman, trying to desperately to be happy and grateful for her new husband and party they’ve been given. (“I am trying! I smile and I smile and I smile,” she pleads to her concerned, scolding sister.) To the bafflement of her sweet, patient groom (Alexander Skarsgard) and the increasing irritation of her sister and brother-in-law (Kiefer Sutherland), Justine wanders in and out of the party at random, stepping out to take a bath or a nap, to put her nephew to bed, or to seek assurance from her cold-hearted mother (Charlotte Rampling) who’s hiding out in a bedroom doing yoga stretches. Just as she’s about to consummate her marriage, Justine announces that she “needs a moment” and leaves her husband with his pants literally down, while she heads out to find, mount and furiously hump a co-worker on the lawn. When it’s time to toss her bouquet, she stares at the guests in a near-catatonic state until her frustrated sister finally grabs the flowers and throws them to the waiting women herself in a flourish of fed-up fury.
Von Trier has called a Melancholia a comedy, and some of these scenes are indeed funny after a dark, absurdist fashion. Mostly though, the wedding reception gives us the opportunity to see Justine presented with every single thing her family and friends believe should make her happy – and finding meaning in exactly none of it. Von Trier made the film after suffering a debilitating bout of depression himself, and his sympathies with Justine are all too apparent here. Nearly everyone at the party is an exaggerated caricature of shallowness or pettiness. From the brother-in-law who keeps reminding Justine how much the party is costing him to the boss who’s pushing her to deliver one more advertising tagline to the sister fussing over a tightly scheduled list of wedding reception activities, there isn’t one person who doesn’t appear ridiculous and oblivious to the fact that Justine is not merely selfish but desperately ill.
In a sense, there are actually four “characters” at the center of this film and it’s at the start of the wedding reception that another of them appears: Melancholia, a huge planet which Justine glimpses as a distant red star in the evening sky. By the film’s second act, Melancholia has become clearly visible, a milky blue-white orb looming ominously in the above and on a deadly collision course with the Earth (Or a ‘fly by” if you believe Claire’s husband, who plays down the danger to calm his near-hysterical wife. “Melancholia will pass in front of us, and it will the most beautiful sight ever,” he assures her, and the irony of that statement won’t be lost on anyone.)
In the second chapter (titled “Claire” for the sister played by Gainsbourg), the story takes a more harrowing turn. Justine arrives at her sister’s home so severely depressed that she can barely function; nevertheless, Claire fusses over amenities (fresh flowers on the bed table, a chocolate on the pillow, a lovingly prepared meat loaf dinner) that have no effect whatsoever on her sister’s overwhelming despair. Claire fears that the approach of Melancholia will further disturb her sister, but as the planet draws nearer, Justine becomes ever more calm and lucid, if still a little scary. There is an obvious affinity between her own melancholia and that aptly named sphere in the sky. She even sneaks out late one night to lie luxuriously naked while bathed in its blue-white light.
For Justine, whose depressive state renders her incapable of finding contentment or meaning in the things that fulfill most people (e.g. work, marriage), the end of the world holds no terror, only the promise of relief and respite. (As she tells her sister in the quote which opens this post, she sees no reason to grieve for the passing away of everything they know.) For Claire, who is clearly attached to all the domestic minutiae of her existence, facing oblivion is unbearable. Once it becomes clear that they and everyone else on Earth are doomed, the sisters have a memorable exchange that crystallizes their opposing natures and sheds light on the entire troubled history of their relationship. Claire is desperate to mark the end in some appropriately momentous way. “Help me, Justine,” she pleads in anguish. “I need to make it nice.”
Justine: You want to sit on the terrace and sip wine, the three of us?
Claire: It would make me happy.
Justine: Do you know what I think of your plan?
Claire: No. I was hoping you might like it.
Justine: I think it’s a piece of shit.
Claire: Please, Justine, I want it to be nice.
Justine: Nice? Well then, why don’t we meet on the fucking toilet?
Claire: Fine, then let’s not…
Justine: You’re damn right let’s not!
Claire: I really hate you sometimes.
I mentioned earlier that there are four ‘characters’ at the center of Melancholia. The fourth one? It’s the rambling estate on which the entire film takes place – a sprawling mansion with spacious, sparsely furnished rooms set on an 18-hole golf course (“Augusta National transported to Versailles” as critic Stephanie Zacharek memorably described it.) The estate sits atop a hill, at the end of a road so winding and unwieldy that Justine’s wedding limo nearly doesn’t make it to the reception. Remote and imposing, it’s the perfect place in which to sequester oneself from the rest of humanity and harbor illusions about one’s own invulnerability. At the same moment, it’s a perfect, unobstructed vista from which Claire and Justine can watch the apocalypse hurtling towards them with terrifying clarity. In a way, it embodies both of the sisters who inhabit it on its last day.
When the end does come, however, Melancholia evolves into something emotionally resonant and heartbreaking. To reassure her young nephew, Leo, Justine assures him there is a ‘magic cave’ where he can hide safely from the destruction to come. Together they build a sort of teepee out of tree branches and when the moment is upon them, she leads her nephew and sister into the teepee and grasps their hands as Melancholia rises on the horizon and a tempest begins to blow. Leo remains angelically calm. Claire shakes and sobs. But, contrary to what we would have expected, Justine is neither steely nor calm. Rather, she gazes tearfully at her sister in genuine love and concern. One can strongly sense that if she misses nothing else on Earth, she will miss Claire.
You can read those final seconds of Melancholia in a few different ways, I suppose. But for me they amount to Von Trier’s most shocking revelation yet: in the final seconds of life on Earth, human connection is what matters most. Or to put it more succinctly, it all comes down to love. That’s the last thing I would have expected from Lars Von Trier, but it’s his most potent and memorable takeaway yet.
I just watched this a few days ago for the third time (and the first since its release), Suffering from depression myself, and having had a tough time of it lately–it’s a major task for me to complete an article these days–the film made me feel good, knowing that someone else out there understands this disease
and could craft this knowledge into such a beautiful piece of work. I watched it with my mother, who was confounded by it. But I think that’s a normal reaction for those who can’t grasp real depression (which is mostly everyone). I have difficulty seeing this as a science-fiction film–it’s a character study, more than anything else. But I greatly enjoyed your piece, Pat. A gorgeously succinct accounting of this devastating film.
Dean,
I tend to agree I think of this less a science fiction film and instead a character study like you. It happens to have some sci-fi elements, but to me those are less the focus here. It’s a great film nonetheless.
Dean, thank you and my sincere hopes that you are getting whatever help you can to cope. I’ve had some experience of depression myself and my late partner suffered from severe depression; I would agree that this film resonates more deeply with those of us who’ve been there. I think a case can be made to classify MELANCHOLIA as science fiction, but, like you, I’ve always considered it more of a character study.
When the end does come, however, Melancholia evolves into something emotionally resonant and heartbreaking.
Pat, I completely understood that this film would have resonance for you, and not for the most reassuring reason. But I also have long known you affinity for this great melancholic work, and you have projected here with some mighty terrific prose and deft analytical prowess. i am inclined to agree with you that Von Trier’s uncharacteristic contention here does come down to love, and it is what is most precious in those fading moments of conciousness before it all ends. MELANCHOLIA is a poerful tonic, a wake up call, but artistically it is extraordinarily beautiful, a poetic work that underlies some unforgettable players.
Thank you, Sam. Yes, the film resonates for me on some personal levels, but overall I just find it strange and beautiful and moving for so many reasons.
My views on Melancholia are well known and for better or for worse were expressed at WitD with some plain speaking eons ago in 2012. I was angry then. (Now I am merely grumpy.)
Depression is a complex affliction. It can take you down the deepest well and leave you helpless in an almost catatonic withdrawal, or drown you in a sea of turbulent anxiety in which each waking moment you are tortured by a gut-wrenching nausea and consumed with an anger that will vent at the first opportunity. Sartre nails it in his (autobiographical?) novel aptly titled Nausea.
Von Trier gets it right in portraying depression and his sardonic observations on the “undepressed” – is that a neologism? – are well founded.
What I don’t like is his prescription. If it were as simple “love is all you need” then the love of those who care for you would be enough to pull you out of that deep dark well.
Or you could try mindfulness, meditation, and exercise – all worthy palliatives.
For most though chemical intervention is needed to kick-start the engine to recovery. Arthur Koestler in The Ghost in the Machine placed his faith in the biochemists – but his prescription did not stop him from eventually taking his own life.
Depression has its roots in alienation. The depressive sees through the charade of human existence. The pointlessness and the cosmic indifference. But you can’t live like that. R D Laing posited that insanity is a healthy response to the horrors of existence, and it is is the rest of us that are mad.
You crave the balm of the normal cluelessness that allows those around you to live in the moment and find meaning and purpose in the face of the massive black monolith at your shoulder. Or a black star.
So we hit the booze, pop a pill, or find religion. Or self-destruct.
Elvis recorded a great song in the 60s as the title song for his western movie
Flaming Star. An alternate version Black Star was recorded and only released years after his death…
Ev’ry man, has a black star
A black star, over his shoulder
And when a man, sees his black star
He knows his time, his time has come
Black star, don’t shine on me, black star
Black star, keep behind me, black star
There’s a lot of livin’ I’ve got to do
Give me time to make a few dreams come true
Black star
When I ride, I feel that black star
That black star, over my shoulder
And so I ride, front of that black star
Never lookin’ around, never lookin’ around
Black star, don’t shine on me, black star
Black star, keep behind me, black star
There’s a lot of livin’ I’ve got to do
Give me time to make a few dreams come true
Blacklack star
(Words & Music by Sid Wayne / Sherman Edwards)
“What I don’t like is his prescription. If it were as simple “love is all you need” then the love of those who care for you would be enough to pull you out of that deep dark well.”
Yes, absolutely. Amen.
I have some very painful personal experience of being that person who naively thought my love and care would help someone out of their deep well of depression. I learned the hard way that it wasn’t possible.
I’ve also experienced a couple bouts of depression myself.
I can relate to both Justine and Claire in this scenario.
My take on the final scene in MELANCHOLIA is not so much that love is all you need to eradicate depression – more that love and human connection are the things that matter most at the very end, for all of us.
Thank you for expressing all this so eloquently and vividly. I admit, I do not recall all of what you said about this film back in 2012,but I would love to go back and read your thoughts now).
Sorry Pat I did obscure the subtlety of your take on the final scene in my comment.
Lovely comment about an ugly thing, that depression. How many cineastes use the cool dark rooms of the cinema house to hide away when they’re supposed to be facing the world? This place here could fill at least a row near the front of the screen.
Elvis’ last great record—1976’s Roy Hamilton cover ‘Hurt’—to me is the start of punk rock. The Sex Pistols had played their famous gig in February but it was sparsely attended, the Ramones released their debut in late April, but ‘Hurt’ was actually on the charts around then, peaking in the following month (May 29th Billboard charts). It’s the ying to punk’s yang; where punk firebombed the apparatus, Elvis showed a world weariness and deep reluctance to it. He’d lived with it and in it much longer, so his pained cries throughout—if he feels anywhere near how he sounds you can only guess how he actually lived for a second, let alone more than a year, with this pain in him—are as deep as anything punk offered in response to it. A high personal favorite. He bled out before he could see if his cries actually worked, a reasonable enough facsimile to Rotten stating “ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?” about a year later. Depression, and the world that causes it, puts dirt over us all in the end.
Melancholia is the same thing, von Trier cheaply uses sic-fi to pray for the end of the world. It’s certainly sci-fi, and the type we should have more of.
While I do think this film is a masterpiece, it is also a bit irritating as well. ‘Confounding’ is a good word to describe it, but it is a beautiful film, and Von Trier is an expert observer of human nature. I had a different reaction to the ending, I’m thinking that it is a bit more nihilistic: nothing matters not even love.
I wonder how an audience would react to a double feature of this paired with Hillcoat’s ‘The Road’.
Peter,
I think ‘confounding’ is a good word for a lot of Von Trier’s films. I would have concurred with you until recently that the film is more nihilistic than hopeful. But watching it again last week, those final moments appeared to me in a whole new light. I’m willing to concede this may be as much a result of the baggage/worldview I’m bringing to my viewing as it is to Von Trier’s actual intentions.
confounding in a good way of course. I like how it is a film that is open to interpretation, and how that interpretation can change over time.
Great review.
Can’t argue a single point here.
Further, this film was so affecting to me the first time I saw it I started to hyperventilate during the moment on the terrace when they all begin to realize Sutherland is lying about the planet’s fate.
This film was so emotionally well done it practically set off a panic attack in me.
Thank you, Dennis.
I understand what you mean about the panic attack feeling. For me, it was the moment Gainsbourg looked at Melancholia through the wire hoop – and the planet dimensions far exceeded that of the original loop – that I felt that dread in the pit of my stomach.
Funny. I am not a depressed person though I know plenty. Through my eyes I was affected differently. I LOVE scifi and the possibilities, I NEVER once thought of the planet being poofed. That tripped me for weeks, the thought of black star, nibiru or planet X disrupting our planet, similar to the Exodus is not worrisome for me but the removal of all of us, affected me.
I found the movie to be outstanding (once the wedding stuff was over) and for once and to my absolute horror, a thought that I never conceived of. Bravo. I was not depressed over the thought, I just had to process it.