I'm really grateful for the Bama Art House series, which has given me an opportunity to see a lot of films that wouldn't normally come to Tuscaloosa. I've seen a lot of films that I loved (Moon, A Prophet, Still Walking, Four Lions), a couple I didn't feel strongly about either way (The Secret in Their Eyes, Monsters), one I disliked (Greenberg) and also whatever you want to call You, the Living.* Their series for the spring kicked off with Lars von Trier's Melancholia**, a film I felt pretty ambivalent about. Sorry to start the blog off with a shrug, but... maybe it will be a really insightful and witty shrug?
Spoilers ahead.
Melancholia starts off with a series of stunning shots. Kirsten Dunst in jeans looking mystical and bummed out, Earth colliding with a massive planet, Kirsten Dunst in a wedding dress looking dead and creepy, animals dying, etc. etc. etc. The images move so slowly that they are almost still, and the effect is very striking; it's all scored to Wagner's Tristan and Isolde, and it's powerful stuff. Melancholia's unique vision of the apocalypse is something I've never seen before- no disaster porn, no New York City crumbling, no television screens. I'll come back to that in a bit. The imagery is beautiful, but the section lasts for close to eleven minutes, which is an awfully long time to give your audience no context for the undeniably powerful imagery before them. Still, I thought the opening was pretty interesting.
After the carefully composed and overwhelming beautiful cinematography of the opening, I was really let down by the scrappy handheld quality of the rest of the film. Everything is still beautiful, and perhaps von Trier is trying to unsettle his audience, but man, I really hated the shaky-cam. Also, the first half of the film. I hated it, I mean.
After the carefully composed and overwhelming beautiful cinematography of the opening, I was really let down by the scrappy handheld quality of the rest of the film. Everything is still beautiful, and perhaps von Trier is trying to unsettle his audience, but man, I really hated the shaky-cam. Also, the first half of the film. I hated it, I mean.
Essentially, the first half of Melancholia consists of Kirsten Dunst's character (Justine) sneaking out of her own wedding reception over and over and over so that she can be sad by herself: in a bathtub, taking a nap, having sex with some guy on a golf course (well, I guess she's not alone in that part). Supposedly Melancholia is a movie about von Trier's own depression, but I found the first half pretty unbearable after a while. I would like to point out again that this is her wedding reception, where she is getting married to a guy who seems like a real sweetheart and seems to care about her an awful lot, but she keeps getting so bummed out that she has to go lie down (or have sex with a dude on a golf course). Perhaps my difficulty sympathizing with people who suffer from depression stems from my own weird personality issues, but I kept wanting to shake Justine and say: "Look! Your husband seems pretty cool! These people all care about you! This wedding is expensive and clearly pretty cool and it looks like you're getting married at Hogwarts, so you should be pretty stoked!" But, alas, Justine is a fictional character and the reception is at her brother-in-law's house instead of Hogwarts, and I cannot shake her and say these things.
The second half was much more to my liking. Some unknown time afterwards, Justine has taken up residing at her brother-in-law's house, and her sister is taking care of her because she is just toooooooooooooo sad to move. Again, maybe I'm just a douchebag, but I find it pretty hard to sympathize. Anyway, a giant planet has appeared and is moving towards the earth. In a move of incredible subtlety that demonstrates a great trust in his audience, von Trier names the planet "Melancholia" instead of "This Is A Big Obvious Metaphor For My Depression, Which Makes Me Feel Like Everything Is Hopeless And Makes It Hard To Care About Things", which is good, because that would take a long time to say. In any case, her brother-in-law is cheerfully obsessed with the planet, assuring her and Claire (her sister) that Melancholia will pass our planet by and provide us with "the most beautiful thing anyone has ever seen."*** In any case, as the planet grows nearer, Justine grows more calm, insisting that she knows that Melancholia will destroy the Earth and that no one will miss our little planet because "life is evil." My guess is Justine doesn't get invited to many parties and spends a lot of time offscreen listening to My Chemical Romance.
Alright, I'm being crass, but I hated the way that Dunst's character felt like such an empty device for beating the depression metaphor into the audience. This sort of character writing is a real sore spot for me. I understand that you can make your characters dance on the end of a string, but people are infinitely more complex and interesting than metaphors (I'm looking at you, Dogtooth) or one-note characters that never take on a third dimension. That's my conviction, anyway.
Honestly, the idea of a giant planet heading towards Earth is genuinely fascinating, and it was my favorite part of Melancholia by a long shot. Since we see Melancholia obliterating our comparatively puny planet in the opening of the film, the conclusion approaches with a sort of dreadful inevitability. Seeing the characters deal with the realization that everything they've ever known is about to be destroyed is heartbreaking and fascinating, and it's a relief to finally see Justine attempt to comfort her nephew as the planet approaches Earth (as opposed to, uh, lying naked outside and starting at it). As a metaphor for depression, Melancholia is pretty self-indulgent and heavy-handed, but as a planet-destroying device and beautiful-image generator, it excels.
Stuff I was digging on:
-Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kiefer Sutherland. All give powerful performances. Sutherland is very funny and a nice counterpoint to Justine's constant moping.
-Several very powerful and memorable shots, especially in the opening sequence and towards the end.
-There actually are some pretty good jokes in Melancholia, and they're a welcome respite.
-Whether you will admit it or not, there is an 8-year-old inside of you that thinks that seeing a supermassive planet totally cream the Earth is 100% totally awesome
Stuff that harshed my mellow:
-The shaky-cam, which really clashed with the Kubrick-esque obsessive perfection of the opening shots
-The constant, constant sadness
-The opening half lasts a couple of eternities, and felt enormously repetitive. Plus, dude, how many people are openly trying to achieve their own agenda at the wedding? It seems like everyone is constantly making really unreasonable demands to me, and everyone seems oblivious when she keeps sneaking out to lay around and be sad. Since Justine is so obviously a stand-in for the director, this felt really whiny to me.
-The central character is total drag and felt really one-note
-There really is a brilliant, brilliant dark comedy hidden somewhere in Melancholia. Of course, I love comedies and especially dark comedies, so I'm pretty biased here. Maybe sometime I'll take the opening shots, intercut them with scenes from other movies where Kirsten Dunst is having a great time, and set the whole thing to "It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)." I bet I could rack up like, 70 views on YouTube.
Verdict: 6 Earth-destroying depression metaphors out of 10.
*Pleasant enough, but truly bizarre.
**I know you can't read the words at the top of the poster, but J. Hoberman of the Village Voice is quoted: "When I left the theater, I felt light, rejuvenated, and unconscionably happy." I don't think J. Hoberman and I watched the same movie. I like to think that the projectionist accidentally showed Singing in the Rain and didn't realize until it was too late, and was too embarrassed to admit his mistake.
***Get it? Von Trier's depression is beautiful. Like Joy Division, or Edgar Allan Poe.
