Film: Thoughts on Antichrist
Antichrist -astounding and terrifying in equal measure
Bloody Hell, where to start with Lars von Trier’s Antichrist? It is perhaps the most intense, unrelenting piece of film making since Gasper Noe’s Irreversible, which is quite a feat. What the majority of film goers might find especially difficult about Antichrist is that it does not fall easily within a particular genre, at no point sign posting what the audience should be feeling or where the narrative is headed. I would describe it as a rabid psychosexual horror film, falling somewhere between David Cronenberg’s early work and the textural magnificence of David Lynch. That said it is quintessentially a Lars von Trier film, from the opening hardcore sexual imagery right through to the ambiguous iconography and morality present throughout.
Charlotte Gainsbourg
The basic premise deals with the story of a couple, played superbly by Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg, grieving the death of their infant son. Dafoe takes on the role of therapist to his wife and as they retreat to a cabin in woodlands known as Eden, reality and sanity begin to unravel towards a brutal and terrible finale.
To try and simply summarize Antichrist in a paragraph is a bit like saying Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man & The Sea is about a geezer trying to catch a fish. It is about that, but also so much more. Like all great works of art the conceit is delightfully simple, yet played out in such a way as to embrace titanic themes. So far I have read several interpretations as to the meaning of von Trier’s film, none of which match my own. Yet this is most likely the desired effect from a film maker who is as much of a provocateur as he is a storyteller.
At times in Antichrist the breathtaking beauty of what is on screen is truly astounding and terrifying in equal measure. There are also scenes that will make even the most jaded splatter flick fan turn away in disgust. I personally never thought I would be subjected to the site of Willem Dafoe spunking blood from his cock, or a graphic depiction of genital mutilation, yet I was equally unprepared for Charlotte Gainsbourg’s utterly spellbinding performance. I honestly don’t think I have ever seen an actor give so much to such a complex role, especially within the context of a Hollywood system that views gaining a few stone and shaving off your eyebrows as the height of method acting.
Will I give Antichrist a second viewing? Maybe, but for now I will nestle it amongst works like Hubert Selby Jnr’s Last Exit To Brooklyn and Larry Clark’s Kids, unflinchingly brutal artistic statements that are frankly too intense to engage with casually. But by the same token I would heartily recommend fans of art house cinema to give over a 109 minutes of their life to Mr. von Trier and discover what all the fuss is about.
