I’m not ruining anything when I tell you that Lars von Trier’s Melancholia features the epic destruction of the planet Earth. It’s billed as “A beautiful movie about the end of the world,” but that end occurs in the first 10 minutes during a stunning, Kubrickian flight of cinematic fancy loaded with eye-popping effects, magnificent music and imagination to spare.
In micro, Melancholia is about the relationship between two sisters, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and the way they cope with impending doom. The film is broken into two parts (“Justine” and “Claire”), the first focusing on Justine and her wedding, the second on Claire and the way she handles her family as the end approaches. Both are fascinating and maddening in equal doses.
After the mind-bending opening, Melancholia comes back down to earth for a fun scene in a limo. Justine and her husband-to-be (True Blood’s Alexander Skarsgård) giggle and kiss in the back of the stretch as they head for their wedding reception two hours late. Cherish this scene, as the movie is all weighty, all the time from there on out. (Hey man, it’s called Melancholia, right?)
Once at the party, we meet Claire and her family — husband John (Kiefer Sutherland) and son (Cameron Spurr) — Justine’s long-divorced parents (John Hurt and Charlotte Rampling) and her incredibly annoying boss (Stellan Skarsgård). The film sticks close to Justine’s point of view as we observe her psyche slowly crushed under the weight of awkward toasts, absurd requests, familial infighting and her own general malaise. People keep asking Justine if she’s happy — almost demanding it, really — and though the wedding represents her best attempt at cheerful normalcy, the girl is incapable of pulling it off.
Part One goes on for more than an hour, and by the end Justine will have committed several acts of irresponsibility (at least one of them jaw-dropping) and blown her marriage apart. He sister’s wanton self-destruction is no shock to Claire, who confesses to sometimes hating Justine even as she provides the driving force behind the doomed wedding reception. In a way, the party was Claire’s way of trying to turn her troubled sister into something more like herself — a well-adjusted creature of ritual and tradition.
Melancholia flips the script in Part Two, as the normally strong and steady Claire begins foundering in the face of impending disaster while Justine seems to become more calm and clear with each tick of the doomsday clock. I won’t go into much detail on Part Two, except to point out that, much like the first part of the film, it is visually stunning, engrossing and thought-provoking, but also includes moments that strained my ability to stay with the narrative. In particular, von Trier’s treatment of Kiefer Sutherland’s character is ill-conceived and sells the character out just as he’s becoming interesting.
There are going to be some great pieces written about the symbolism in Melancholia and what von Trier was really trying to say with his film, but this review will not be among them. That’s largely because I gave up early on trying to wedge the film into some intellectual box where the story and characters work as symbolic stand-ins for — take your pick — the current economic crisis, global warming, nuclear annihilation, nihilism, etc. My guess is that enterprising film students will dig into Melancholia for years to come, unearthing nuggets of greatness from this challenging film.
For the non film theory-obsessed, Melancholia works despite its sometimes-clunky narrative by pairing amazing visuals and filmmaking technique with two terrific performances. Kirsten Dunst has been a critical darling since first appearing at age 12 opposite Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in Interview With The Vampire, but this is the first time she’s taken a real adult role and hit a home run. (She won Best Actress at Cannes for her performance, and seems the front-runner for many American year-end awards as well.) Dunst has the “showy” role, playing what amounts to a troubled woman with a disability, but it’s Charlotte Gainsbourg who really carries the film, providing a stable emotional core that the audience can hook into. Both performances are terrific and award-worthy.
I’m recommending Melancholia, as it’s clearly on a different level than all the Jack and Jills and Arthur Christmases now playing. I think real film fans will find it a must-see. That said, I must admit to being disappointed, largely because I wasn’t moved emotionally at all. Much like the work of Stanley Kubrick (to which Melancholia earns its comparisons), there is beauty and wonder here, but it comes at the cost of seeming cold and isolating.
When the end finally came, I found it a letdown — if only because I had grown to hate the characters (great performances notwithstanding). If the world has to end, I sure hope I get to spend my last two hours with people more engaging than these.
This article appears in Dec 1-7, 2011.