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Writer/director Lars von Trier got himself into a whole lot of hot water this year—not for directing another controversial film like 2009’s Antichrist but for talking a little too much about his fascination with Hitler and the Nazis when he really should have been talking about his latest film, Melancholia.
Of course, as is often the case, while von Trier was stirring up a little scandal, he was also stirring up interest (or at least morbid curiosity) in Melancholia—an often bleak but striking drama that deserves to rise above the controversy that surrounds it.
In case the film’s dismal title doesn’t tip you off to the gloominess to come, the first eight minutes offer another hint or two. From the first image—of a seemingly detached Kirsten Dunst watching on as dead birds fall from the sky—you’ll know that you’re probably not in for an uplifting experience. Still, the stunning images of death and destruction eventually give way to a strikingly dissimilar setting: a wedding. But while blushing bride Justine (Dunst) and her new husband, Michael (Alexander Skarsgård), may seem to be the happiest of newlyweds, the cracks soon begin to show.
When Justine and Michael arrive late to their extravagant reception, the hosts—her sister, Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and brother-in-law John (Kiefer Sutherland)—begin to lose their patience. And bickering parents cause Justine’s depression to spiral out of control.
After the disastrous wedding, a now despondent Justine returns to her sister’s estate, where Claire has become obsessed with a planet called Melancholia, which is on a collision course with Earth.
Melancholia is definitely not an easy-going film—the kind that you’d take your friends to see on a laid-back Saturday afternoon. It’s not a film that you’d describe using words like “fun” or “light” or “entertaining.” And if you’re expecting that kind of film—a light romance starring Kirsten Dunst—you’ll be sorely disappointed. Though it does have a handful of entertaining moments (especially in the beginning), it’s mostly just a downward spiral of doom and gloom—a story of depression, dysfunction, and the end of the world as we know it.
Still, despite its dismal subject matter, Melancholia is a strangely spellbinding film—the kind that will hold you in its grasp, captivated by the somber beauty of it all, even if the story and its point may leave you somewhat perplexed.
A number of other films this year have sought (and claimed) to present this kind of artistic splendor. But while The Tree of Life was simply self-indulgent and pretentious and Another Earth was just plain dull, Melancholia is truly striking—a captivating blend of science-fiction and art-house drama. Granted, it’s not without its moments of pretentiousness and self-indulgence—especially in its opening scenes, which might tempt viewers to walk out and sneak into another theater. And the story isn’t exactly simple or straightforward. But there’s something so striking about von Trier’s (and cinematographer Manuel Alberto Claro’s) intriguing imagery—and Dunst’s heartfelt performance—that you’ll just be happy to sit back and take it all in.
I’ll freely admit that I’m still not entirely clear on what von Trier is trying to say in this disheartening drama (though I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with Hitler, despite the director’s recent rants). Yet, despite its sometimes perplexing message, the striking imagery and noteworthy cast make Melancholia the kind of film that you can appreciate and absorb—even if you don’t fully understand it. More than just a story, it’s an artistic experience.
