Dancer in the Dark (Lars Von Trier, 2000)

"In a musical, nothing dreadful ever happens."

Introduction

Asked what type of filmmakers inspire and influence Lars von Trier, the last thing one would consider is Busby Berkeley and The Sound of Music. As unlikely as it sounds, these established Hollywood musicals are what contribute to Dancer in the Dark, a musical tragedy starring Björk in the lead role. Contrasting filmmaking methods of hand-held naturalism and 100-camera musical-numbers, von Trier manages to fuse together a story of sadness and truth within a contextual setting that is the great US of A  -a world whereby the American Dream is real for many, but unattainable for others.

A Clear Message

Located in Washington during the 1960's, we follow Selma (Björk), a Czech immigrant working within a factory and saving for an operation for her son, Gene (Vladica Kostic). He - and she - carry a hereditary illness that leads to blindness and Selma is in the final stages - using only touch and sound to help her work and travel. A version of the story could be told in fairytale form. The traveller (Selma) is cursed by blindness and to restore the sight of her Son, she must collect riches to offer a doctor. The Prince is Geoff (Peter Stormare), a man whose sole purpose is to protect Selma, with the assistance of Kathy (Catherine Denueve). The beast or villain is Bill Houston (David Morse) and his evil wife - products of the capitalist America. They take money from Selma (as she rents on their land) and are threatened by her - the evil wife suspects Selma and Bill are conducting an affair and Bill is jealous of Selma's money.

Subtle moments as Selma attempts to refuse a gift from Bill create a clear conflict of attitudes towards innate values. Selma says she is "not that type of Mother" who accepts gifts - or will even consider buying a bike for her Son. It is through the pressures of those around her that she relents and, due to Gene's happiness, she accepts the bike. As a sequence early in the film, this moment may give the impression that Selma - and Gene - have clearly been overpowered by the American values of wealth through the ownership of items.

But Dancer in the Dark is not merely a commentary on America - and it is not primarily political in its message (as Dogville is) as Selma, throughout the film fantasizes that she is within a musical. The clicking and valves within the factory becoming a rythmic beat that Selma leads in chorus. Wooden-tracks and industrial-trains are the percussion to a song about sight - as Selma sings to Geoff how she has seen everything. This escapism is intertwined within the naturalist fairytale offering an alternative perspective on America. Hollywood - a jewel in the crown of Americanism - may be seen as a perfect blanket used to cover the contradictions and paradox within the great USA. An image America sells to the world; a lie that those within America like to believe to give themselves a sense of safety and pride.

You Can't Leave...

Stig Björkman writes in Sight & Sound how Dancer in the Dark is part three in Lars von Trier's 'Golden Heart' trilogy, preceded by The Idiots and Breaking the Waves:

"Golden Heart was a picture book Lars had when he was a small child. It is the tale of an uncommonly good-natured girl who sets out into the woods on her own with bits of bread and other things in her pockets. At the end of the book because she has shared everything she possesses with those who have crossed her path she is naked and destitute. But her last line is full of implicit fiath: 'I'll manage all right, just the same'. This expression of the extreme consequences of playing the martyr is engraved on von Trier's consciousness." 

This particular intepretation feeds into the fairytale interpretation presented, but also argues a cynical pessimism too. Selma, as our protaganist, is likeable and in Björk's touching, sensitive performance, lovable. She needs and demands protection - and Geoff's sincreity shines through moreso than Bill and Linda (Cara Seymour) despite the roof they provide - for money - over Selma's head.

It is clear that to ensure a strong education for Gene (the opening sequence portrays Gene as a serial truanter), to gain the best health (for Gene's sight) and even to gain fair trial in the courts you need money. This money defines your way of life and your attitudes towards others. It corrupts Bill and ultimately destroys the goodness they have inside. Imagination and escapism is all anyone has to escape the relentless monotany of life.

Last Breath

The final act of the film reinforces how Americanism dilutes the brutal and horrific reality of a society built on contradicting foundations. Despite the musical numbers and the final moments that attempt to "brighten" up what is difficult to view - we see through the dancing and the singing; we see through the glossy, "Hollywood" version protrayed; we see only animalistic, dog-eat-dog values.

You cannot leave; you cannot walk away. Björk holds her own as we are fully invested in her character - as we don't believe this is a musical anymore. There is truth in this fairytale as there is truth within all fairytales. Dancer in the Dark polarised audiences - critics complaining of the "sentimentality" and "fakery" of the film.  But you can argue that this is what resonates the most as von Trier, though shooting naturalistically, the musical-numbers and the character of Selma are products of Hollywood. Selma, as a character, personifies selflessness and beauty - and in that beauty is truth. Indeed, in Dancer in the Dark, the truth resonates.

Dogville (Lars Von Trier, 2003)

"The residents of Dogville were good honest folks, and they liked their township"

Introduction

Cubism, as an art movement, can be simplified as a style that depicts an object or person through distorting perspective and space. Cubism argued that, as an artist, if you look at an object, though you might depict what is observed , why not include what is not observed,yet remains a part of the object. So, though you cannot see the opposite-perspective, there are no rules to stop you from including it anyway. This sense of transparency and an all-seeing eye is what Lars Von Trier uses to great effect in the theatrical and political Dogville.

The film is located within a single set, whereby only props and floor-markings denote where each house is located. Tom (Paul Bettany) is a philanthropist, gathering the town regularly in the hope of creating change and ensuring the development of the community. His world shifts when, late one evening, Grace (Nicole Kidman) arrives following gun-shots, promising her that the town will look after her when it is clear that Grace is being pursued by gangsters.

Profound and Political

This vague description of the narrative does not truly demonstrate the complicated politics weaved within the story as, across nine chapters (with a description of what is due to happen), this story evolves into a perverse tale of power, corruption, abuse, arrogance and control that forces you to reflect on your own attitudes towards society. Though common-place in many of Von Trier's films, the description of each chapter forces you to acknowledge the themes rather than dwell on what will happen next.

Alluded to in the chapter description, a moment of horrific abuse is further amplified as we see the attack from afar. The theartical bare-staging depicts a lack of awareness (or ignorance?) towards the attack - a topic that is clear through this type of production. Ma Ginger (Lauren Bacall) continues to sell her wares; Liz Henson (Chloë Sevigny) continues to gossip; children still play on the road. This single moment is as profound as it is upsetting.

Von Trier, throughout the film, manages to make similar observations and insights into the Western world, and particularly the US as the film clearly intends to provoke a discussion. In Dogville, he comments on the arrogance of forgiveness that, by definition, criticises Christian doctrine whereby forgiveness is at the core of the belief. He comments on genocide, the purposes of it and where it can emerge from. In an interview with The New York Times, Von Trier even explains how "the point to the film is that evil can arise anywhere, as long as the situation is right.".

A Relevant Retrospective

As part of a Lars Von Trier retrospective at the BFI, Dogville is as relevant today as it was in 2003 - indeed, maybe moreso as we now live in a world that celebrates how transparency. In education, the government will argue the changes and "improvements" on the basis that things should be more "transparent" - in the same manner as every other element of the public sector. Furthermore, the automatic response from those in power - the press over phone-hacking; politicians over expenses; banks over the recession; Starbucks and Jimmy Carr -  is a public apology for their sins. We are now in a society whereby the contradictions, deciet and dishonesty is known, and yet we continue nevertheless.

This is, ten years on, one of the most important films of the 21st Century - but be prepared to challenge yourself. Simply enough, Grace is a woman who is simply trying to do the right thing and yet she becomes a victim. As you punch in your ticket or collect your paycheck; as you work hard to live another day - think of Grace. Think of how an open-minded, generous and optimistic woman becomes twisted and destroys the world she was welcomed into.

The Simon and Jo Show Podcast: 04/10/2009

So, round two - another overview on the weeks films with Jo and myself!

"The latest films discussed by your London-based film reviewers. Specifically focussing on Ricky Gervais and Matthew Robinson's 'The Invention of Lying' and Lars von Trier's 'Antichrist'."

That's the description ... enjoy!

Anti-Christ (Lars von Trier, 2009)

"Chaos reigns"

Introduction

Does it need one? I mean, really? A title like Anti-Christ clearly provokes the viewer. Before I continue, its worth noting that this is the first [mock me indeed] Lars Von Trier film I have seen. I question whether it is a fair representation of him as a director ... but it is nevertheless my first. Not seen Dogville or Mandalay or (apparently a friends favourite ever film - Rachel) Dancer in the Dark. So, with no frame of reference, I rely on what I read to assist in my understanding of such a film. But as it is such an explicit and excessive film, with such, almost obsessive, links to raw emotion it inevitably is inspired by a very personal stance of Von Trier himself, rather than something attempting to top previous films. According to Catherine Wheatley [S&S, August 2009], he wrote this "during a period of severe depression", which backs up the exceptionally personal nature of this film. He was raised by atheist parents and feels that "Religion is a nasty business", while not being "a believer", but using the description of "a poor christian" to describe himself.

From what I know, the theme of "long-suffering women at the hands of a manipulative man" (Empire, August 2009) is something that appears often in von Triers work so it clearly links with his previous works - going against my assumption it may be on its own. So, I'm sure the more I watch other von Trier films, the more I will realise how apt this film is ... but I doubt I will re watch this film again, and that says nothing about the well-executed, scenic and spooky nature of the film, it just says what type of film I prefer to watch. Turns out, analysis of grief and suffering though extreme torture and sexual pain - inflicted on both sexes - is not my bag.

What I reckon ...

I'm going to praise the film. The first thing I told Jo as we left the cinema was that there was clearly nothing in the film unintended. Jo felt that it might have dragged in the middle a little bit, which I counter-argued, questioning whether there was anything that should have been taken out of it to speed it up - he, and I, didn't know. Everything was exceptionally framed, lit and planned and prepared. 'Well-executed' does not give the film justice, but it is what it is. If you want to explore the stages of mourning (lets list the stuff it tackles) -of death, suffering, pain, despair, sex, masculinity, femininity, good and evil, religion, Satan - censorship merely hides the truth of such emotions, effectively not giving the topics justice. The sense of destruction of oneself, of a fear of nature in man, whereby you want the audience to experience, to some extent, the horror of evil-nature, of destruction, you cannot expect to shy away from the explicit nature of such a theme.

For one, its not gratuitous - its not an exploitation film, it is an art form and respects these boundaries. This might be a shallow point to raise on something which, to be honest, the majority of film-goers, don't expect the latest Saw installment to be directed by Lars Von Trier. This is not that type of horror - it is psychological, personal and considerate of the audience. The scenes of horror we do see are planned, prepared and controlled. We begin with a prologue, showing the death of Nick - the child of 'his' (Dafoe) and 'her's (Gainsborough) child. The child falls out of a window while the two have sex in the shower. The whole experience is shot in black and white with the Phantom Camera that captures the drops of water from the shower and snow from the sky so carefully it forces you to see every slight movement as a separate art piece unto itself (though the clerk who cleared my tickets said it reminded him of a Marks and Sparks advert ... hmmm ...). Every sequence is introduced by 'Epilogue', 'Chapter 1' etc, painted by an abstract artist by the name of Per Kirkeby - emphasizing that it is first and foremost a work of Art, and not all art is something you put up on your wall (or in this case, own on DVD).

Interestingly, I have recently watched Herzog's Grizzly Man, whereby one part Herzog disagrees with Treadwell (the tragic victim of the bears) was how Treadwell ignored the horror and destructiveness of nature. The 'chaos' and lack of 'harmony' in nature is what Herzog strongly believes in - and clearly this horror is the spine of Anti-Christ, and what von Trier also believes.

Going against what I stated earlier - about the film being what the director intended - there was one part which, though Jo and I sat quietly though, the whole cinema burst into laughter. Dafoe, in the process of coaching his wife through the mourning process, stumbles across animals, mothers in most cases, having killed their young: a deer with the semi-born fawn hanging out of the deer itself, etc. In one case he sees a fox, that appears to eat its own womb, look to him and speak: "Chaos Reigns". Apparently, there is a sense of irony in von Triers work (something I missed completely in this) and maybe this is an example of that, but it broke down the amount of involvement the audience had with the film up to this point. Was that a flaw in von Triers film? I would have to ask if laughter was what he expected from that section ... then again, I imagine von Trier does not expect anything from his audience, making the film for the sake of art itself.

The film finishes as Dafoe walks down the hill - having been tortured, pierced by a sharp implement, crawling into a cave, whereby the rock fell to shut it, then - you could say - he was 'resurrected' and manages to walk away. Remind you of anyone? Dafoe played the role himself too! Nevertheless, as he walks away, he walks past a mass of women walking up a hill. I imagine this relates to the evil woman he has just killed, does not link with all the other women with no evil desires. One interesting choice of word is exceptionally interesting. Dafoe's character is attempting to work out what Gainsborough fears - and by tackling the fear - she can move past this point of grieving. He considers that her fear is 'nature' (which to some extent it is) but crosses it out, writing 'Satan' (which to some extent it is), and then - upon realising that she was purposefully placing the wrong shoes on her sons feet (to the point that he had a deformity in his feet recognised on the autopsy) its not a completely impossible assumption that she was content with letting her son kill himself (which, in flashbacks, we see was the case). He crosses out her fear of 'Satan', realising what she truly fears is "Me", before smashing Dafoe round the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. My automatic assumption was that it is her definition of herself - labelled as "Me" - that was what he felt she feared. Clarifying the hatred she began to believe following her research into witches and 'evil-women' she researched when last in Eden, that she now believed she was. But, she hated and despised Dafoe too - so the choice of word "Me", verbalised by Dafoe himself, might imply that to some extent she feared him. Throughout the film she resents him and his arrogance and pride - and his psychiatrist-mode and therapeutic measures do nothing to change this opinion. Thus she attempts to destroy him, who she believes is some sort of Satan - natures man. Just an interesting side point.

Nevertheless, the non-innocent part in her child's death voids all the progress and therapy her husband attempts to 'help her' with. She thinks she is to blame, he tells her she is not. But he is wrong, because she is to blame. She is actually evil, akin to the witch women she researched when in Eden previously. Dafoe constantly tries to help her, but his self-satisfied attitude hinders any progress - she does tell him that it is recommended that patients must never be your partner, and yet he thinks he is better than that and this is the consequence, confirming her belief in his god-like attitude: controlling, creating ("I'm going to teach you to breath" - can he give her life?), etc.

Food for thought I think. I'll stop going over all of it - because there are bound to be bits which are completely wrong. Oh, before the conclusion - Art references, Hieronymous Bosch and all the bodies in the woods, naked and in foetus position. William Blake in the tone and portrayal of a Satanic-like presence. And, I considered not saying it, but the yellow jacket of Gainsborough, the sitting on the porch of a victorian-ish, old cabin did remind me of The Village ... I'm sorry, it did, and all you Shyamalan haters will hate the comparison.

It is a dark-subject, and the raw emotions it explores require visceral, vivid detail to relate the horror and pain to the audience but I question whether this is the type of thing I personally enjoy and, to push this further, I am dubious about the audience members who 'enjoyed' (is that the right word?) the film, people who will buy and, akin to me watching my favourite film many times, they would do the same with Anti-Christ. Surely if, genital mutilation and destruction is what you want from a film then there must be deep-rooted issues you have not faced. By extension, maybe this means that i do not condone such a film. The irony is, as a fan of the torture-porn genre (to some extent, by no means a professional) I feel like the completely OTT horror, fairground-ride nature of, say, the Saw films, somehow makes the films that much more palatable. So, when guy saws his foot off - you know its a prop, you know its fun and games and then you can laugh about it afterwards. While, with Anti-Christ I was so engrossed with the actors and the story itself that by the time we see her visual destruction o her femininity, I literally could not watch and had to quickly turn as the scissors cut. Jo said he forced himself to watch it - and that was what was expected of me, I guess. We don't make films so people turn away at the first opportunity of horror. It's a cheap shot comparing Saw with Anti-Christ - and I do apologise for it. I do not compare the acting, the directing, the cinematography - in fact anything and everything structurally is hugely superior in Anti-Christ. I merely discuss the nature of censorship and violence in cinema - fact is, nothing like this appeared before 2000. Apparently Irreversible raises the same type of concerns... and, as I said, I hope I never see this film again. But Irreversible is highly acclaimed ...

After-thought

Listening to a radio interview on The Guardian podcast and Lars von Trier gives a great analogy - that he also stated at a press conference, possibly in Cannes - whereby he does not feel any need to justify his work, let alone justification of himself. He states how, as an artist, he has created something that you are a guest to - a party, however sick, - that you are invited to. The invite in and of itself is not a bad thing, so - in that sense - I assume he intends to state that, therefore, the justification in his actions are unneccessary. Interesting point.