Antichrist: Darkness Risible
But when a dead animal lying in the brush looks straight into the camera and pompously spits out the words, “CHAOS REIGNS!,” you have to decide whether you’re with the movie or against it.
— Jeremiah Kipp, The House Next Door
I agree — sort of. The viewer does have to choose whether to side with Antichrist. But I’d say that choice takes place earlier, during the painstakingly presented opening sequence, described by J. Hoberman in The Village Voice as “fabulously inappropriate” and “so precious it might have been staged inside the snow globe of Citizen Kane. “Either it’s the “I dare your bourgeois values to look away” slow-motion shot of a penis entering a vagina, or it’s the equally endless shot of the child’s teddy bear falling expressionlessly through the postcard snow and landing in a harmless, theatrical puff of flakes.
When a movie uses visual metaphors so sophomoric that actual sophomores should take offense at the expression, it’s hard to see who would side with it. It’s a self-indulgent, contrived exercise whose didacticism doesn’t teach us anything, save that we’ve seen every provocation attempted herein done better elsewhere. You may think you need to see Antichrist, see for yourself what all the fuss is about, but you don’t, because you’ve already seen it. You saw all the corpse parts that make up this Pretentionstein in their original living bodies. You’ve seen grief; you’ve seen cock; you’ve attended writing workshops and bitten the inside of your cheek for 90 minutes. You’re good.
To side against the movie, though, is not necessarily to side against von Trier or what he’s trying (and failing) to do. The critical knock on Antichrist — when it’s knocked; some people have enjoyed it — is not just that it’s trying too hard, but that von Trier is a misogynist who enjoys women’s suffering, that it’s torture porn, no context, no compassion. I wouldn’t call von Trier my favorite filmmaker, because his experiments often fail for me, but these charges seem unfair. Yes, von Trier wants to shock, to provoke, to see where a plot seed goes when its bloom is forced to the furthest possible point. I’ve never understood why this is often considered an invalid or cheap artistic starting point per se, when it’s more or less the foundation of every cultural breakthrough since cave drawings, and while the artist has to exercise some care when the provocation involves violence (especially against women), my feeling is that von Trier’s chief emotional interest as a storyteller is in exploring the ways in which we punish ourselves. Von Trier apparently feels that this is easier to accomplish narratively with female characters; it’s not the most rigorous route, but I don’t find it offensive. Your mileage there will vary.
The trouble is that the results aren’t always interesting on their own merits, and anything he may have had to say about the process of grief, misuses of intimacy, et cetera in a situation like this one has the focus pulled away from it by the garish garbage strewn around in the foreground. A director who starts a film with unsimulated penetration is functionally saying, “Don’t look too closely at anything else that happens,” because he knows you won’t be able to, and a story that shows you one of its protagonists mutilating her own genitals is afraid of its real self. Speculating on whether that’s actually Dafoe’s equipment (Dafoe claims it is; von Trier says he used a stunt shaft) distracts you from the symbology, which isn’t even symbolic anymore. A symbol is a thing that stands for another thing; in Antichrist, von Trier just gives you the actual thing, with a perverse twist whose only additional meaning is editorial laziness.
It’s so much that it’s not enough: characters (de-)named “He” and “She”; a deer with a fawn half out of its womb; a baby bird falling out of the nest and overrun with ants; “Her” thesis topic; the barrage of acorns; the looming, foggy woods. Deploying a series of italicized reflex hammers is not the same as telling a story, but it might work if we liked or could relate to these characters. No such luck. Dafoe and particularly Gainsbourg give fearless performances — but in the service of illuminating a breed of affected, shelter-magazine-layout-marriage asshole better left in a darkened corner.
It’s my understanding that von Trier made this movie as an attempt to deal with and emerge from a very deep depression, and that he’s not entirely pleased with the result. I respect both of those instincts. What Antichrist ends up revealing is likely not what von Trier intended: that one’s own madness is difficult to make compelling for other people.
Tags: Charlotte Gainsbourg J. Hoberman Jeremiah Kipp Lars von Trier movies Willem Dafoe
I get why actors are eager to work with Von Trier, but I’m with you — his films don’t seem to me like they’re for an audience. Of actual people.
Which, you know, okay. Artists make art for all kinds of reasons, not necessarily to be enjoyed by the public. I’m therefore okay with saving my $12.50.
Dear Folks at The New Yorker,
Please read the 2nd paragraph of this review. Several times.
Then be gentle in breaking the news to David Denby that his replacement has been found.
‘Preciate it.
Completely not relevant to the review, but: “J. Hoberman” made me think of your cat. J. Hoberman Bunting III. Hee.
Thanks, @Jessica.
@Patricia: He’s pretty productive for a two-toothed nap-o-tron.
He does get wonderful performances from people. Emily Watson is fantastic in Breaking The Waves.
But I wasn’t as affected by that movie as many people were; it was hard to watch, and Watson was great, but sometimes you want less “what if this happened” or “this might happen this way” and more “this DID happen this way” or “this HAS happened this way.”
See, I know Dafoe considers himself a courageous and edgy actor. Von Trier seems to have a similar opinion of himself and his directing. What I have a problem with is the idea* that viewers who do not enjoy being shocked and horrified and revolted, and who in fact actively avoid movies that provoke those responses, are stupid or anti-intellectual or shallow. I cannot imagine wanting to see this movie, but that doesn’t mean I despise people who DO want to watch it. An emotional need for escapism in movies, and the ability to understand things like “Antichrist” without enjoying them, are not mutually exclusive.
*An idea not expressed in this review, but which I’ve seen in several others. I don’t like poking at weeks-old roadkill with a stick, either, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid; it means I’m squeamish, which isn’t the same thing.
Agreed on the stand-out quality of paragraph 2! I feel compelled to quote it.
Reading Salon’s excoriation of “”Did You Hear About the Morgans” not long after reading this post, I came across the description that “‘Morgans’ does bear the distinction of boasting the sourest cast ever assembled outside of a Lars Von Trier production.”
Also, I will post the link unedited, for amusement value: http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/review/2009/12/17/did_you_hear_about_the_morgans_sucking/index.html
@Seren: That review is a barn-burner. “Congratulations, here’s $50 million. Go fuck something up” is the new “Hey, cut the rebop!”.
OK, there are apparently two good reasons to see “Did You Hear About the Morgans”:
Sam. Elliott.
Whaddaya mean, that’s not two reasons? It most certainly is.
Maybe if I just wait until the DVD hits the $2 bin … that way I can just go straight to the Sam Elliott scenes ….
J. Hoberman Bunting III: When You Need MORE Than One Tooth For Your Nap-O-Tron!
!@LaBellaDonna: My morning paper described Elliott’s turn as “officially Yosemite Sam’s surlier brother.” Youch. I hear you, but I’m guessing “Proceed with Caution” might be the watchword here.
“Pretentionstein”= Awesome.
First:
Regarding how much we punish ourselves/push ourselves you say:
“Von Trier apparently feels that this is easier to accomplish narratively with female characters; it’s not the most rigorous route, but I don’t find it offensive. Your mileage there will vary.”
Interesting, and I’d tend to agree, if because I think women do have a natural tendency to punish themselves and beat themselves up (I know I’m not making a revolutionary statement here), although not necessarily the way Von Trier appears to be exploring (yeeks). I personally don’t know much about Von Trier and this film DOES NOT interest me, but I still enjoyed your review.
Second:
I am starting to love “cut the rebop,” and not just because I finally remembered it’s from “A Streetcar Named Desire.”
Third:
OMG LOVE LOVE LOVE “Pretentionstein”!!!!
Fourth:
I once saw Willem Dafoe walking up Broadway (SoHo area). He was smiling to himself and looked like a pretty cheerful guy. (Not quite as cheerful as Jeremy Irons, who was – I kid you not – practically prancing down 5th Avenue, shaking hands with people at random and generally being hysterically charming, but cheerful nontheless.)
“a story that shows you one of its protagonists mutilating her own genitals”
This is something that annoys me immensely: how come that this is so popular among (Scandinavian?) (male) directors (and authors)? My theory is that it all started with Bergman, if he can show a woman cutting herself with a piece of glass at the dining table, everybody should take after him. (I think it was in Cries and Whispers) I once made a list, it was not very long, but quite depressing anyway. Is it a common theme in other areas too? (Scandinavian literature, theatre and film being my forte.)
And, forgot to say, that second paragraph is indeed at Thing of Beauty!
I strive for such vivid, passionate and evocative clarity as that 2nd paragraph in my own writing. Yet I fail.
@La Bella Donna–I’m waiting for that to “Morgans” to hit video for those very two reasons. (My dream movie has both Sam Elliott and Sean Connery in it. Please, someone write a kick@ss screenplay for them!)
@Cat-slave: That was in Cries and Whispers, yes. But Karin didn’t actually cut herself *at* the dinner table. She took a piece of the broken glass from her accident at dinner and did the job in the bedroom, timing it to shock her husband as he was about to join her. I was going to mention the sequence myself before I read the comments, because I thought it was artfully done and disturbing and worked as one of the many colors of that movie’s sex/repression/marital violence/revenge dream palette.
But I have no trouble believing that Antichrist is no Cries and Whispers. I loathe von Trier. Breaking The Waves is one for my all-time “acclaimed films you could barely make it through” list. I have a close friend (hey, Brandon, hope you’re not reading) who likes his stuff so much that he refers to him as “Lars” “Lars has a new one coming out.” “I saw an interview with Lars.” Ugh. No referring to a director by first name. That’s barely acceptable with Woody Allen — BARELY — or if you’re discussing the Coens (et al) and trying to differentiate between brothers, otherwise intolerable. No matter how well known the person is, or how unusual the first name, it sounds so smarmy. “Orson would have shot it differently.” “Ingmar did it in a more profound way.” “I prefer Alfred’s pre-Hollywood work.” I think not.
Heh, Todd K. “Savage Steve really knew how to shoot a spit-take.”
My new New Year’s Resolution: Check Tomato Nation for reviews BEFORE watching the movie. I haven’t covered my eyes while watching a movie since…1982?
Ooooh, I’m sorry.