It is simultaneously one of the most horrific and
intriguing films I have ever encountered - lost in a sea of barbaric violence,
but also a profound examination of the psychological horrors that can accompany
unfathomable pain.
I am not the first film critic to struggle with an appraisal of Lars von
Trier's latest, polemical creation. How do I even begin?
"Antichrist" is brilliant and yet I never want to see it again. It
is a monumental achievement, in examining an aspect of the human psyche that is
so awful and unbearable that I can in no way encourage you to see it.
It is a glimpse into the darkest places of the human soul. If it is something
you are able to brace, then "Antichrist" is a provocative journey into
our nightmares worth your consideration.
There are really two movies here joined at the hip. In a prologue, we witness
the death of a child - a death that unleashes a tidal wave of loss that will
eventually consume the souls of the parents.
In the first half of the film, things revolve around a psychologist known
only as He (Willem Dafoe), patiently trying to coax his wife, She (Charlotte
Gainsbourg), through her grief.
Here, Lars von Trier's tone is calm and mild - the film comes in measured
tones and is coolly photographed (in fact, von Trier's composed shots and
subdued lighting schemes here couldn't be further from the ragged "Dogme"
look and sparse minimalism he has opted for in his last few films).
Beyond the character interactions, the background of the film is bare,
stripped of supporting characters, while the lead characters are blank to the
point they are not referred to as anything more than He and She.
It is von Trier setting a stage and allowing the bleeding pain of grief to
spill out like some naked work of psychodrama. In the raw and exposed
performances from Dafoe and Gainsbourg, the pain is so raw and immediate that
the tension in this film is derived from one central, terrifying question: How
much grief can a human endure before he implodes?
What has utterly disgusted many mainstream audiences is the second half of
the film, where he takes a marital psychological drama out into the woods and
literally witnesses the destruction of all that is good and pure in the
universe.
Retreating to their rural cabin in a bid to work through their agonies and
confront their night terrors, He and She slowly turn on one another. He, subtle
in his accusations, turns on his wife, blaming her for the loss of his son. She
is initially strong, but slowly she gives in to fear and despair.
This leads to violent altercations, where she attacks him to keep him from
leaving her, and where she turns sharp instruments on herself, turning
masochistic in a bid to punish herself - in the most shocking ways imaginable -
for failing as a mother.
What happens out here in the woods is the opposite of Eden - as Von Trier
labels this cabin. This is not Eden at all; it is hell on Earth, with a husband
and wife setting out to hurt one another, where all things good - from nature to
sex - has been spun on its axis.
Some have wondered if there's a point to all this gratuitous violence and
anger. I wish there weren't, but I think there is. Von Trier's child died, and
he made this movie during his bout with depression.
This is a movie about a loss so great that everything in the universe ceases
to matter. A loss that cuts to and through the heart. A loss that strips you of
your soul, leaving you with no sense of pain or hope.
It's the best film you may never want to see.
E-mail: SnyderReviews@hotmail.com