Lars Von Trier's controversial new film Antichrist opened in cinemas at the weekend, having passed through the UK censors completely uncut. Ignoring the Daily Mail's traditional reaction, this is very much the correct decision.
Much has been made of some of the more shocking scenes (genital mutilation, full sex, talking foxes) that I'm not going to go into any of that because it has already been discussed to death by the worlds press. If you're not aware of the full extent of the graphic horror on display in the film click here for some more details on Wikipedia.
The film itself is a deeply shocking affair. From the beautiful opening scene, where the baby son of the two main characters (played by Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg) falls to his death from an upstairs window whilst his parents are having sex in another room.
The scene is shot in black and white, and in permanent slow motion, soundtracked by a delicate and moving Handel aria. The classical music fuses both the tender and beautiful act between the adults and the horrific accident to wonderful effect. It is a horrible scene and it is made horrible by the fact that it is filmed so beautifully.
The next forty five minutes or so are quite slow and more than a little dull. Willem Dafoe's character, a pompous and arrogant therapist, takes it open himself to treat his wife through her overpowering grief. This, naturally, culminates in Gainsbourg becoming convinced that everything (and more specifically, the entire of womanhood) is evil. To counterbalance this, she attacks both her husband and herself in the disturbing ways so well documented in the media.
When the film premiered at Cannes earlier this year, it was greeted with outrage. Journalists accused Von Trier of "rampant misogyny", that the film was “an abomination” and "proof that Von Trier hates women". Famously, at his press conference, a furious journalist implored him to justify not just his film but also himself to the world press.
I'm not really interested in the issue of misogyny. The film itself is in many respects a mediation on that whole topic and it has been argued that the main theme of the film is that women are essentially evil. Although Von Trier's attitudes towards women are - at best - suspect, to make such sweeping and generalised statements does nothing to actually critique the film. A much better discussion of the gender issue can be found at Guardian Unlimited.
In fact, all it really does is turn an arthouse film with limited appeal into a global talking point that more people will go and see.
Despite that, it still isn't the kind of film that a multiplex audience is going to devour and that is a good thing. To go and see Antichrist is because you have made a conscious decision that you want to make your mind up about it yourself. It is for that reason that it was crucial that it passed through the censors uncut; not because I believe that the film is necessarily a masterpiece but because the audience of Britain should be given the freedom and responsibility to decide for themselves.
To my mind, there are two pressing questions about the film and neither of them are about misogyny:
a) Was the violence/sex/graphic nature of the film necessary?
b) Does the film actually work?
I'm still unsure about the second question (and furthermore during the writing of this article I have struggled to settle on a definite answer). My normal argument in any situation like this would be that if a piece of art can polarise opinions in both directions (as many people hate is as love it) then regardless of individual opinion it must be an important piece of work.
Ultimately, the feeling of genuine shock as the film reached its conclusion suggested that it must have worked. I was open mouthed for a significant amount of time after leaving the cinema and even a day after it was difficult to explain in conversation just how powerful it was. A significant chunk of that was the beautiful way it was filmed by cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle and perhaps even more so for the performances from the always fantastic actors Gainsbourg and Dafoe. Both roles were understandably difficult but both actors came out with dignity and an intensely believeable character, which mightn't have happened in lesser hands.
I would like to go and see the film again, but I don't see I can physically put myself through it. It is by no means a piece of great entertainment; it was one of the more unpleasant 105 minutes of my life. Despite this, I firmly believe that art doesn't always have to be pleasant and nor should it be. In fact, the anarchist in me actually thinks that it has a duty to be nasty and ugly just as much as beautiful.
The question of whether the graphic scenes were necessary or not remain a difficult balancing act. I would argue that the opening scene, where you see a short shot of an erect penis thrusting in and out of a vagina was unnecessary. It didn’t add anything to the scene whatsoever, other than the initial shock factor and in all honesty, there’s enough shock factor by the end of the film to do without this initial one.
With regards to the violence, I don't have the same problems. The way that the film lags in the first half and builds the tension slowly through the psycho-analysis between husband and wife means that the violence has to finally manifest itself to bring meaning to the whole film. Unfortunately for viewers in the 21st century, violence needs to be taken to new lengths in order to sustain any real sense of psychological disturbance.
Ultimately it is a question of subtlety. I would compare Von Trier with Michael Haneke, who is the master of the subtle art of screen violence. Take Funny Games, which retains its sense of genuine shock without actually showing any violence on screen, and compare it with the sledgehammer impact of Antichrist.
There is no doubting that Antichrist is a flawed piece of work - as most of Von Trier's work is - but it is also a beautiful, moving and genuinely disturbing piece of art. It's most definitely not for everyone and I would even go as far to say that those who like the film probably didn't enjoy it - it's not the kind of film you enjoy - but there is definitely a reward in there for the viewer.
Much has been made of some of the more shocking scenes (genital mutilation, full sex, talking foxes) that I'm not going to go into any of that because it has already been discussed to death by the worlds press. If you're not aware of the full extent of the graphic horror on display in the film click here for some more details on Wikipedia.
The film itself is a deeply shocking affair. From the beautiful opening scene, where the baby son of the two main characters (played by Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg) falls to his death from an upstairs window whilst his parents are having sex in another room.
The scene is shot in black and white, and in permanent slow motion, soundtracked by a delicate and moving Handel aria. The classical music fuses both the tender and beautiful act between the adults and the horrific accident to wonderful effect. It is a horrible scene and it is made horrible by the fact that it is filmed so beautifully.
The next forty five minutes or so are quite slow and more than a little dull. Willem Dafoe's character, a pompous and arrogant therapist, takes it open himself to treat his wife through her overpowering grief. This, naturally, culminates in Gainsbourg becoming convinced that everything (and more specifically, the entire of womanhood) is evil. To counterbalance this, she attacks both her husband and herself in the disturbing ways so well documented in the media.
When the film premiered at Cannes earlier this year, it was greeted with outrage. Journalists accused Von Trier of "rampant misogyny", that the film was “an abomination” and "proof that Von Trier hates women". Famously, at his press conference, a furious journalist implored him to justify not just his film but also himself to the world press.
I'm not really interested in the issue of misogyny. The film itself is in many respects a mediation on that whole topic and it has been argued that the main theme of the film is that women are essentially evil. Although Von Trier's attitudes towards women are - at best - suspect, to make such sweeping and generalised statements does nothing to actually critique the film. A much better discussion of the gender issue can be found at Guardian Unlimited.
In fact, all it really does is turn an arthouse film with limited appeal into a global talking point that more people will go and see.
Despite that, it still isn't the kind of film that a multiplex audience is going to devour and that is a good thing. To go and see Antichrist is because you have made a conscious decision that you want to make your mind up about it yourself. It is for that reason that it was crucial that it passed through the censors uncut; not because I believe that the film is necessarily a masterpiece but because the audience of Britain should be given the freedom and responsibility to decide for themselves.
To my mind, there are two pressing questions about the film and neither of them are about misogyny:
a) Was the violence/sex/graphic nature of the film necessary?
b) Does the film actually work?
I'm still unsure about the second question (and furthermore during the writing of this article I have struggled to settle on a definite answer). My normal argument in any situation like this would be that if a piece of art can polarise opinions in both directions (as many people hate is as love it) then regardless of individual opinion it must be an important piece of work.
Ultimately, the feeling of genuine shock as the film reached its conclusion suggested that it must have worked. I was open mouthed for a significant amount of time after leaving the cinema and even a day after it was difficult to explain in conversation just how powerful it was. A significant chunk of that was the beautiful way it was filmed by cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle and perhaps even more so for the performances from the always fantastic actors Gainsbourg and Dafoe. Both roles were understandably difficult but both actors came out with dignity and an intensely believeable character, which mightn't have happened in lesser hands.
I would like to go and see the film again, but I don't see I can physically put myself through it. It is by no means a piece of great entertainment; it was one of the more unpleasant 105 minutes of my life. Despite this, I firmly believe that art doesn't always have to be pleasant and nor should it be. In fact, the anarchist in me actually thinks that it has a duty to be nasty and ugly just as much as beautiful.
The question of whether the graphic scenes were necessary or not remain a difficult balancing act. I would argue that the opening scene, where you see a short shot of an erect penis thrusting in and out of a vagina was unnecessary. It didn’t add anything to the scene whatsoever, other than the initial shock factor and in all honesty, there’s enough shock factor by the end of the film to do without this initial one.
With regards to the violence, I don't have the same problems. The way that the film lags in the first half and builds the tension slowly through the psycho-analysis between husband and wife means that the violence has to finally manifest itself to bring meaning to the whole film. Unfortunately for viewers in the 21st century, violence needs to be taken to new lengths in order to sustain any real sense of psychological disturbance.
Ultimately it is a question of subtlety. I would compare Von Trier with Michael Haneke, who is the master of the subtle art of screen violence. Take Funny Games, which retains its sense of genuine shock without actually showing any violence on screen, and compare it with the sledgehammer impact of Antichrist.
There is no doubting that Antichrist is a flawed piece of work - as most of Von Trier's work is - but it is also a beautiful, moving and genuinely disturbing piece of art. It's most definitely not for everyone and I would even go as far to say that those who like the film probably didn't enjoy it - it's not the kind of film you enjoy - but there is definitely a reward in there for the viewer.
This is cinema as art, not cinema as entertainment. Whether you love it or hate it, there is a definite place for it in the modern world.
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