tripu

There are things in this world which purpose or destiny is easy for anyone to distil: wheels, coal, surgeons, fear — you know what they are for. And there are other things that just are, and their utility rejects comprehension. Love, ageing, civil servants. Man.

If one were forced to classify art in general, and films in particular, into one of these two categories, I guess the second bucket would clank loud.

What do you watch films for? Forget right now about documentaries, cheap scary movies and light-hearted irrelevant comedies: documentaries serve the same purpose as magazines, and the latter two are a ride in the amusement park. What do you watch films for?

Why would you pay to watch a film so clumsy (or so honest) that spares all the polite ellipses, and instead lets you watch with eyes wide open, like a rabbit helplessly startled by the lights of the car that is just about to run over it? Why would you pay for a film with just two actors in it, barely three or four locations and a plot that can be summarised in two sentences? Why would you watch a film so skilfully conceived and crafted to make you suffer for two hours, both mentally and physically? And, most importantly, why would you pay for a cinematic gadfly to rip up your own shameful human nature into pieces and then hold them to your face?

For me, the red thread running through Dancer in the dark, Dogville and this film is how lovingly the writer rejoices at the display of evil and cruelty. It is as if he were shouting at us that it is our Nature to be evil, to inflict pain to others and to ourselves, and to enjoy it as the beasts we are.

The photography reminded me a lot of the work of Chris Cunningham: dark and foggy atmospheres, shallow depth of field, cold palettes and a disturbing attention to textures and detail. The super slow motion scenes are a marvel, and probably Chris Tookey was referring to them when he mentioned those ‘few images of startling beauty’.

If you suspect that films have a purpose and a reason on their own, even if you can’t name it; if you believe there is a point in safely experiencing a brief but realistic jewel of hatred, remorse and agonising pain, go watch Lars von Trier’s Antichrist.

If, on the other hand, you think only a mentally ill person or a masochist could enjoy that, or if the trailer made you hesitate for a moment, spare yourself the ordeal.