There's something to be said about how strong an effect a film has on you, whether it be positive or negative. Any film that evokes a lasting, memorable change has to in some small way be a success, right? Lars Von Trier's latest controversial film(the latest in a long list of controversies), Antichrist, has struck one helluva chord with me. I can't exactly say that I liked it, but I'll always remember it. What Von Trier has crafted is a grotesque human trial designed to drag each of us to our razor's edge. A polarizing film which will have some people fleeing out of the theatre in disgust and others singing the director's creative genius. Here's what I know for sure:
Never, and I mean never, have I had the cashier guy refuse to sell me a ticket until I took the time to read a disclaimer basically absolving the theatre of any liability in case I go nuts or try to demand my money back or something. I, of course, didn't read it entirely and waved off the cashier who just sorta chuckled. It was weird, to say the least.
I've never had the urge to vomit at any movie in my entire life until this one. So congratulations, Mr. Von Trier. He gets that distinction twice in this film, actually.
Antichrist is broken into 4 chapters, a prologue and epilogue. The prologue features no sound except for the opera playing in the background. Completely in black and white and in slow motion, an eerie snow falling on the ground. We see He(Willem Dafoe) and She(Charlotte Gainsbourg) in the midst of having deep penetrating sex(yes it's graphic). Their infant son in the next room jumps down from his crib. In what I thought was one of the creepiest scenes of the movie, he sees his parents' banging in the next room and turns away with an almost devilish smile. He goes back to his room, sees the snow outside through the window, then quietly slips and falls to his death just as his parents reach climax only a few feet away.
She suffers from a debilitating grief. He, who happens to be a therapist of some sort, treats her casually and coldly, like a doctor. He decides to treat her himself. He decides to force her to confront all of her greatest fears by taking her to the place she fears most, an old cabin they share out in the woods. A place called Eden. There, they discover eachother's true nature. She had been there researching gendercide, and had come to the conclusion that women were inherently evil. She has sex with her husband constantly simple as a means of distracting herself from her pain and grief. He, a domineering presence both mentally and physically, indulges her even though he knows it's basically a conflict of interest. The woods surrounding them seems to exist on another plain entirely, physically warping with their every step. The trees are twisted, almost like a demon's hands reaching out from the ground. The animals are unafraid and their eyes are desolate. A fox disembowels itself right in front of He's eyes. A deer stares blankly, it's unborn calf hanging lifeless from it's rear. This is a place without the grace of God's touch. It is a place where everything is reduced to it's core nature.
He and She show little affection to each other at all. Their presence in Eden only makes it worse. As she continues to despair and give in to what she believes in woman's true nature, she mutiliates him in the most personal way possible, then sexually stimulates him as some sort of crazed experiment.(vomit enducer numero uno!) She hobbles him in a way that puts James Caan's brutal treatment in Misery to shame. It's clear She blames herself and He for allowing their sexual desires to be the murder of their son. Vomit enducer numero dos soon follows, and all I'll say is what she does to herself involves a pair of rusty scissors. Use your imagination. More than a few people left the theatre I was at in disgust after this act. I don't blame them.
I don't blame them, but I wonder what they were expecting. Surely anyone who came to see Antichrist knew going in that it was going to push boundaries. Surely they know who Lars Von Trier is? He is a director that has built his career on shockingly graphic and emotionally intense movies. He knows how to push people's buttons in every conceivable way. In that he is a master of his trade, and there's a reason why he's one of my favorites. So to go in to a film like this and then run away when it becomes too much defeats the purpose of you're going there to begin with. Nobody's walking into Antichrist blind, ok? The shocking sexual brutality within this movie should turn your stomach. That's the point. It's supposed to make you think and want to shield your eyes. That's what Von Trier is looking for.
For me I wanted to see how Dafoe and Gainsbourg translated into Von Trier's harsh minimalist style of filmmaking. Gainsbourg has been near the top of my list since she stole the show from Gael Garcia Bernal in The Science of Sleep. Here, she's no less convincing, in a role that I can't imagine was easy to perform. She spends a vast portion of the film naked, being made love to, and committing other sexual acts that would give most actresses pause. Dafoe is as reliable as ever, and equally willing. They are the only two characters in the movie basically, so the entire thing relied on their level of intimacy and believability in front of the camera.
As I walked out, the cashier asked me what I thought of the movie. My answer: "I wanted to throw up. But it was interesting." That was all I could think to say, still trying to comprehend what I just sat through. Did I like it? I honestly don't know how to answer that. I enjoyed the acting. The story had me compelled, but I certainly don't understand every facet of it. It was a journey, let's put it that way. One I'm glad I survived, yet likely won't sign up for again.
6/10
