According to some
new research
spoilers may be beneficial to enjoyment of a story. That’s good to know, as Lars
von Trier’s latest film,
Melancholia, spoils its own conclusion within its first five minutes. Melancholia is, in part, the story of the end of the world.
This is telegraphed in the grand, apocalyptic opening sequence, which
culminates with a rather large planet slamming into our woe betide world.
Thereafter we go back to the beginning of the tale, and
witness (in irritating hand-held camera, for the most part) the ultimately disastrous
wedding reception of Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Michael (Alexander Skarsgard).
Justine battles with depression, which frustrates those trying to support her.
This is compounded by other challenges, such as eccentric
parents who aren’t past the feuding stage of their break-up, and a venal
boss pressuring Justine for the perfect ad campaign tagline. Ultimately,
Michael leaves Justine, and the special day ends up memorable for all the
wrong reasons. (Well, it would be memorable, except it gets rather overtaken in
the scheme of things by the end of the world.)
In the second half, set some days after the events of the
reception, Justine falls even further into depression, and her sister Claire (Charlotte
Gainsbourg) tries to nurse her back to sanity at the mansion estate of her
mega-wealthy husband John (Kiefer Sutherland). In the background to all this is
the predicted “flyby” of the newly discovered rogue planet Melancholia. Despite
John’s reassurances, Justine (like the audience) knows that this won’t end
well.
Armed with her complacent fatalism, Justine becomes measured
and collected as the rest of the family become increasingly fraught. Justine’s
transition in the second half from exhausted depressive, dependent on her
sister, to the calm, assured head of the family is an oddly believable
character arc.
It was no surprise to
read that the initial idea for Melancholia came from a therapist’s suggestion to von
Trier that people with melancholia are better able to handle extreme situations. Regardless of whether that theory is correct or just psychobabble, von Trier’s film makes for
a compelling fictional example.
There were plenty of comparisons between Melancholia and
Terrence Malick’s
The Tree of Life after
they both debuted at Cannes this year. Both were anticipated films by noted
‘art house’ filmmakers, and both featured fairly gritty day to day realism
interrupted by celestial affairs. One film featured the beginning of life on
earth, the other the end of the world. Malick’s film won the Palme d’Or, but
Melancholia is the more interesting cinema.
Melancholia has some impressive imagery, especially during
the opening montage. Surreal images
such as this one are more evocative than most of the cosmic flourishes from Tree of Life. It
is also more engaging, and surprisingly funny. You don’t have to be the
misanthrope that von Trier is to appreciate his cynical humour
A stylistic misstep, however, was the hand-held camera work
that was used in most of the interior scenes. Lars Von Trier considers it lends
some verisimilitude to the domestic aspects of the story. It actually does the
opposite. A similar approach was used in
Dancer in the Dark,
where von Trier used hand-held for the “real world” parts in contrast to the
slicker fantasy musical sequences. As a friend commented after that film, the
sustained hand-held camera work only draws attention to the film making process,
and von Trier has even less justification for the long periods of shaky camera in
Melancholia
As mentioned earlier, the issue of plot revelation is
something
von Trier has considered. “It was the same thing with ’Titanic’, he says ... you
just know: aw, something with an iceberg will probably turn up. And it is my
thesis that most films are like that, really. In a James Bond movie we expect
the hero to survive. It can get exciting nonetheless. And some things may be
thrilling precisely because we know what’s going to happen, but not how they
will happen.”
He has a point, but obviously there are some films which, upon
first viewing, achieve greater suspense because they play on the audience’s
uncertainty about what will happen. Whether this would have been the better
approach with Melancholia is an interesting question. Von Trier thought that leaving
the audience in suspense over the issue of the world ending would be a
distraction.
On the other hand, as some critics of the film have pointed
out, it can be more difficult to care about the characters if we know from the
outset that they will be killed. More importantly, it is that small, nagging
doubt in the back of the viewers mind over the duration of a story that creates
the kind of suspense that can draw the audience further in to the narrative,
rather than distract from it.
If there’s one thing
Lars von Trier understands perfectly, it is ritual. In publicity for the film, he told Nils Thorsen : “If
there’s some value beyond the rituals, that’s fine. The ritual is like a film.
There has to be something in the film. And then the film’s plot is the ritual
that leads us to what’s inside. And if there’s something inside and beyond, I
can relate to the ritual. But if the rituals are empty, that is: if it’s no
longer fun to get Christmas presents or see the joy of the kids, then the whole
ritual about dragging a tree inside the living room becomes empty.”
Melancholia is heavy on ritual, with the wedding
reception being the backdrop in the first half. In the second, Claire even
tries to ritualise the end of the world, wanting to “do this properly” by being
in the right place, with the right wine and music – an approach mocked by
Justine. Nevertheless, in the final moments, they do end up acting out a kind
of ritual; in a continuation of the games they played earlier, Justine comforts Claire’s son by making a
special ‘cave’ to hide in. Rituals are essentially childish, so acknowledging
them as an extension of play is actually the more mature approach.
So why would von Trier,
a confessed self-satisfied filmmaker, have doubts about his latest film? He has
acknowledged fears that the film is too close to a Hollywood-style. He has
worried that it could be viewed superficially, as if the film was too slickly
made to allow for ambiguity or getting “lost in the cracks”.
"I am afraid that it has turned out too 'nice’. I like
the romance in it. Pathos. But that’s alarmingly close to nice."
That’s
the dilemma von Trier faces when making cinema about the end of the world: will
he be thought of as being too nice?
As a
filmmaker, von Trier is bold and skilful, but seems concerned not just with
being true to himself artistically, but on being seen to be so. Maybe
his attachment to the faux-naturalism of the shaky-cam, and his reluctance at
having an accessible story trait like suspense, comes from the same place as
his fretting over being too nice. It’s a partly contrived outsider position. The
T-shirt version would be: “I hope you realise I don’t care what you think.”
This
attitude leads to otherwise uncompromising artists worrying about how they are
being perceived, which does not necessarily lead to better
art. Melancholia is an excellent film that may have relatively wide appeal.
Hopefully, von Trier’s therapist will tell him that’s okay.
