Video essay: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcM4h6oUBxM

I’ll never forget the first time I watched Lars Von Trier’s 2009 film, Antichrist. I remember being completely awestruck. It was maybe the first time I fully grasped the fact that the sole purpose of movies is not just for entertainment. I’d never felt this type of reaction to any film before. I maybe didn’t necessarily enjoy it, but I actually appreciated it. The cinematography and music choice of the prologue left me stunned. It was beautiful, I was witnessing a true artistic vision. The shocking gore and disturbing subject matter undoubtedly can alienate others, but it only transfixed me to be more obsessed with finding out the purpose of the film. Who was Lars von Trier and what would ever compel someone to make something like this?

Antichrist for me was important in establishing that understanding the motivations of the artist can further make you appreciate the art. In other artistic expressions, I usually found myself enjoying the mysterious state of deciphering the meaning of other people’s work. When I found out that Paul McCartney wrote Martha My Dear about his dog, the song become less powerful to me. I always understood that my interpretation was paramount, and I owned my reaction completely. I didn’t like the idea of somebody else manipulating my own likings and dislikings.

So after Antichrist I had to look up Lars von Trier immediately. His style is so confrontational in that he is unafraid to tackle difficult subjects regarding the human condition, like mental health, social issues, and mercy and sacrifice. I view most of his filmography as unflinchingly nihilistic stances on humanity. Dogville, for example is a demonstration of Von Trier’s utter misanthropy. It seems like Dogville was his statement on the human experience: we suffer throughout our lives and we’re all capable of true evil”. In his own words: “evil can arise anywhere, as long as the situation is right”. After a few years I had immersed myself in most of his works, and I grew to just understand where he was coming from.

As of now I view Dogville and Manderlay is a single film, and these two parts are the beginning of a trilogy all about Von Trier’s evolving understanding of our universe. The official “Depression Trilogy” begins with Antichrist and continues with Melancholia and Nymphomaniac, but I feel like Dogville is the true beginning, especially given the ending of Melancholia. Dogville is the announcement of Von Trier’s misanthropy, Antichrist is about our experience in the grappling with this fact, and Melancholia is about the depression regarding the acceptance of this fact.

In order to effectively communicate and completely convince the audience of the true vileness of human beings, you’re gonna need a long time. Dogville clocks in two minutes short of three hours in length, and by the end of the movie it’s hard to not find yourself at least somewhat in agreement with a depressed madman. This film showcases the inerrant flaw of being human, of being nothing more than dogs. Nicole Kidman plays Grace, a woman on the run from criminals who hides out in the tranquil town of Dogville. The citizens of Dogville agree to keep her in hiding, but just having the status of being an outsider provokes contempt and abuse from just about everyone. The social dynamics at play here between the characters are fascinating. Essentially, through terrific dialogue and convincing performances, Von Trier slowly but surely illustrates that every person at essence is unethical and nefarious. Perhaps we might all be malevolent to varying degrees, but we’re all malevolent nonetheless. Maybe we should be disgusted at the moral failings of man, and we should not be afraid to share that message. Dogville is ultimately portraying the compassion we collectively have in society, and how this is simply of a manifestation of our inner-guilt and ulterior motivations. I view the film as anti-objectivist, and Von Trier’s hatred is explicitly pointed at human beings pursuing what they may think is in their self-interest.

The next film, Antichrist, seems to permeate a debilitating sadness if we choose to recognize the universe as an uncaring, unlawful place. If humans are evil by their nature, this could be proof that the main constant of existence is chaos. This movie moves us through the grieving process after a tragedy and a profound realization. It functions as a parable of some people’s contrasting reactions to the loss of something that’s loved. I don’t think it’s an accident that the tragic element of Antichrist is the death of a toddler. A happy child is one of the purest symbols of innocence, and I think Von Trier did this purposely to signify how humanity has lost its innocence.

The film is divided into four chapters. Grief, Pain (Chaos Reigns), Gynocide, and the Three Beggars. I already described the purpose and intent of the Grief and Chaos chapters, but the Gynocide and Three Beggars contain the extremely shocking events that are responsible for the most unpleasant images in the history of cinema itself. This is one of the primary things Antichrist will be remembered for. Many people do not understand why these events in the film, but I would argue the scenes of genital mutilation serve an important function. After describing to us why humanity is evil, and after we have exited the beginning stages of grief and we have accepted that chaos can bring unfortunate events, it can be contended that we can conduct ourselves in a moral fashion by ensuring that we don’t subject any new humans to the unfair, unjust world we live in. As if Von Trier isn’t sadistic enough, in a flashback sequence he confirms the hypothesis set forth in Dogville. Lars plays the audience like a fiddle when it’s revealed that the mother watches the child fall out of the window, and purposely fails to react which reveals her innate, evil nature. This twist in narrative, this idea that maybe the cosmos aren’t predetermined, that maybe humans are solely evil for the sake of being evil, is the result of Von Trier’s sheer hatred of our species.

His next feature, Melancholia, is the representation of his best wishes for the destruction of all of us and the planet we live on. The plot is focused on two sisters, one of which I believe signifies Von Trier’s philosophy. Christine, played by Kirsten Dunst, is a woman going through an extreme depressive episode as the rogue planet Melancholia arrives in our solar system on a collision course with Earth. Her sister Claire plays much more of a typical well-adjusted and rational character. The film is engaging as we watch their two separate responses to their knowledge of their impending doom. Christine seems to be more at peace with their annihilation, while Claire remains terrified. I think Lars is trying to examine the possibility of being depressed as being enlightened, at least in the sense that perhaps being depressed can lead us to handle difficult situations in more rational ways. In any case, Melancholia seems to be a way of wrapping up what Lars Von Trier has to say about his own human experience.

His filmography is an interesting exhibit, a window into the mind of someone with extreme depression, anxiety, and existential angst. He says “Basically, I’m afraid of everything in life, except film making.”

All this talking of his movies makes me excited to see what he has to say about his new film “The House That Jack Built.” Let’s see what it’s about.

Why am I not surprised?