Directed by Lars von Trier. Starring Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kiefer Sutherland, Charlotte Rampling, John Hurt, Udo Kier, Brady Corbet, Alexander Skarsgård, Stellan Skarsgård 15A cert, QFT, Belfast; Cineworld/ IFI/Screen, Dublin, 136 min
Lars von Trier's madly ambitious allegory is an apocalypse like no other, writes TARA BRADY
FROM THE get-go Lars von Trier has proved a most divisive talent. His detractors would have you believe he's a misogynist, a publicity hound and an outrageous chancer. They didn't much care for his Dogme 95 manifesto, they hated the theatrical purity of Dogville, and they refused to view Antichristin the bourgeois-bashing spirit in which it was intended.
Von Trier’s defenders, meanwhile, will tell you he’s cinema’s answer to Puck, a naughty sprite out to upend the status quo at every turn. If he is a fraud, protest his champions, his output only confirms his genius. So what if the “von” is an affectation: neither Erich von Stroheim nor Josef von Sternberg were vons either.
Whatever foot one kicks with on the issue, there can be little doubt that the movieverse would be an infinitely duller place without the self-styled Danish enfant terrible. Only Lars von Trier could show up at Cannes with a ravishing piece of cinema such as Melancholiaand then go and spoil it all with headline- grabbing remarks about Hitler.
Never mind the antics. Melancholiamay be von Trier's finest work to date. It may even silence some of his most vocal critics, if they can bear to drag themselves to the local fleapit. If you've ever wondered how Richard Wagner's grandiloquence would look on screen, or dreamed of catching Kirsten Dunst in flagrante delictowith an entire planet, then this is the movie for you.
Taking cues from the overture to Tristan und Isolde, Melancholiaopens with a Shakespearean mute play comprising images so lush they simultaneously recall the work of Dutch masters and the September issue of Vanity Fair. Expect to see stage adaptations of what follows.
In common with Festen, part one pivots around a troubled family get together. Justine (Dunst) and Michael (Alexander Skarsgård) are celebrating their wedding at a castle that belongs to her sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg)
and brother-in-law John (Kiefer Sutherland). but the celebration is marred by the bride’s late arrival and by open hostilities between her divorced parents (John Hurt and Charlotte Rampling).
Mom launches into an attack on the institution of marriage. Justine’s boss attempts to exploit her as an artist. The wedding planner (Udo Kier) is so dismayed he can’t bring himself to look at the bride. By the end of the evening the marriage is over and Justine is taking advantage of Brady Corbet on a golf course.
If the director’s distaste for capitalism and patriarchal values weren’t already apparent, part two introduces a rogue planet hurtling towards earth. The unruly orb eschews any known laws of physics in favour of allegorical function. Melancholia, as the planet is called, spells certain doom for the stately home, its inhabitants and their world. The impending apocalypse variously inspires despair, madness and fear. Justine’s depression segues into peaceful acceptance; Claire’s sensible mothering instincts give way to terror.
Melancholia's operatic tendencies are complimented by grand performances. It took a special kind of turn for Dunst to have left Cannes with the award for Best Actress only days after the film's director was cast out of the Côte d'Azur. The gong was justified. The entire project seems to pivot around Justine's whims; the early marriage scenes are blackly comic, act two is gracefully lethargic; the denouement is blissful oblivion.
Beautifully shot and wildly ambitious, Melancholiais the end of the world as we know it, and Lars von Trier is feeling just fine, thank you very much.
