denmark

Waiting for the End of the World: Lars von Trier Retrospective at TIFF Bell Lightbox

Years before he was per­sona non grata at the Cannes Film Festival, I dis­covered the films of Danish “bad boy” Lars von Trier at the old Cinematheque Ontario. So it’s fit­ting that the folks behind the Cinematheque are bringing a mini-retrospective of his work to their new digs at the TIFF Bell Lightbox. Beginning tonight and run­ning through November 19, six of von Trier’s earlier films will be shown as a sort of appet­izer for his latest, Melancholia, which opens on Friday November 18.

Melancholia (2011)
Still from Melancholia (2011)

Though I’m dis­ap­pointed with the omis­sions, both obvious (no Antichrist?) and not-so-obvious (The Kingdom would have been per­fect run­ning over a few nights, and Epidemic seems not to be shown much), I’m most excited to revisit the (lit­er­ally) dark early films that were my intro­duc­tion to his work. The Element of Crime (1984) is a sort of police pro­ced­ural, with a prot­ag­onist who prac­tic­ally goes mad trying to track down a serial killer in a post-apocalyptic and dream­like envir­on­ment that just might be the inside of his own head. And Europa (1991), the very first of von Trier’s films I saw, which fol­lows a naive young American working as a porter on a very strange train in post-World War 2 Germany. Both films are drip­ping with style, evoc­ative images, and dark, dream­like plots.

The Element of Crime (1984)
Still from The Element of Crime (1984)

I’d also like to finally see The Idiots and Dogville, both of which seemed reli­ably pro­voc­ative when I saw clips during Adam Nayman’s excel­lent class earlier this year at the Jewish Canadian Cultural Centre.

Europa (1991)
Still from Europa (1991)

Here are the details for the schedule. Don’t forget that in addi­tion to the ret­ro­spective, you can see Melancholia begin­ning Friday November 18.

  • Breaking the Waves (1996) — Wednesday November 9, 6:30pm
  • The Element of Crime (1984) — Friday November 11, 6:30pm
  • Europa (1991) — Saturday November 12, 8:00pm and Thursday November 17, 9:15pm
  • Dogville (2003) — Wednesday November 16, 6:30pm
  • Dancer in the Dark (2000) — Friday November 18, 6:00pm
  • The Idiots (1998) — Saturday November 19, 8:00pm

As always, tickets are avail­able online.

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Erotic Man (Det Erotiske Menneske)

Erotic Man (Det Erotiske Menneske) (Director: Jørgen Leth): This some­what exper­i­mental and extremely per­sonal film raised so many issues for me to think about that I’m not sure my rating will align much with that of other reviewers. I don’t mind at all. Leth, who has been making films for more than 40 years, has made per­haps his most honest and per­sonal one yet. An exam­in­a­tion of the erotic, it’s more of a per­sonal memoir, a record of an attempt to recreate (or create) memories or fantasies (romantic/sexual) from years of exper­i­ences all over the world. Leth seems to have an affinity for the exotic, having traveled extens­ively in Africa, Latin America and Southeast Asia. Since 1991, he’s lived in Haiti, and this film seems to have emerged from a long-term love affair he exper­i­enced there. In fact, this film and his memoir The Imperfect Man have caused con­tro­versy in his native Denmark because in them he details his rela­tion­ship with Dorothie, the 17-year-old daughter of his cook. It’s very clear from the film that his five years with Dorothie were among the hap­piest in his life, and his attempts to describe the erotic can be seen as an extended love letter to her.

At the begin­ning of the film, we are simply presented with sev­eral sequences of beau­tiful women, often nude, reciting poetry. We move from Haiti to Senegal to Brazil, from 1999 to 2002 to 2008. Are these love affairs simply cap­tured documentary-style? Then Leth pulls back the cur­tain. We see him in Brazil at a casting ses­sion. He’s looking for beau­tiful women for his film. He tells them he’s recre­ating memories of past love affairs, and each woman is to lounge naked on a hotel bed, reciting a poem (often his own — Leth was an accom­plished poet before he ever began making films) and sim­u­lating post-coital bliss. It’s a con­structed dream, and the women are paid to por­tray memories and feel­ings they’ve never had.

It’s undoubtedly beau­tiful to look at, but it’s not erotic because these are not my memories or my fantasies. But Leth raises all kinds of issues with his honest desire to pursue his vision of erot­i­cism. He’s a savvy film­maker and a man of vast exper­i­ence of the world. He must know that the places he’s chosen to travel to doc­u­ment erot­i­cism (Eastern Europe, Thailand and the Philippines in addi­tion to the coun­tries men­tioned above) have been places where sex traf­ficking takes place. Places where women sell them­selves (or are sold) to men as can­vasses for whatever fantasies they want to pro­ject. Though Leth is clear to the women that he’s not making por­no­graphy, the dynamic is the same. He’s a rich white Westerner who is offering money to women to do sexual things. It raises the ques­tion as to whether all male con­cepts of the erotic involve the same thing. We are aroused by looking, by seeing, by cap­turing and by keeping what isn’t neces­sarily ours. We often pay to pre­tend it is. There is a whole scale of activ­ities, from staring at beau­tiful women on the subway train, to staring at them naked in magazines or strip clubs, to paying them for more and more sim­u­la­tion. This kind of erot­i­cism is con­structed, it’s not real. The inter­esting thing about Leth’s pro­ject is that the act of making a film is also a way of con­structing a reality that is not real. Eroticism, like cinema, is a con­structed reality. He is cap­turing, trying to hold onto, some­thing that is eth­ereal (memory) and untame­able (female desire/love). It’s a film that could only be made by a man closer to the end of his life than the beginning.

In Leth’s per­sonal life story, the erotic often equates with the exotic. He loves women unlike those in his native Denmark. He likes dark skin and hair, warm cli­mates and sen­sual music. In these places, women often seem more sub­missive. They have no problem playing their parts in his movie. Like actors, they don’t mind that he is giving them the lines they are to read. I sus­pect that many women in the “developed” world will see this film and think Leth is just an unre­con­structed sexist. I’m not sure I’d agree, but I do hope that his hon­esty and vul­ner­ab­ility might lead to more open dis­cus­sion of the dif­ferent expres­sions of erot­i­cism. The film is a bit like a mirror. What you think about it will very much depend on what you see in the mirror.

9/10(9/10)

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Antichrist

by James McNally on November 3, 2009 · 2 comments

in Theatrical Release

Antichrist

Antichrist (Director: Lars von Trier): I’m grateful that I waited to see this. By fol­lowing the steady stream of reviews, first from Cannes, then from TIFF, I’ve been able to steel myself for what I anti­cip­ated would be a har­rowing exper­i­ence. Because I knew in advance some of the more grue­some images to which I would be exposed, it affected the way I watched the film. I closely observed the beha­viour of each of the char­ac­ters early in the film to try to determine what would set off such a chain of events.

Some very brief plot sum­mary for those who may not have heard already. Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg are an unnamed mar­ried couple (iden­ti­fied in the credits only as He and She) with a young child. In the black and white pro­logue to the film, they are making love unaware that their young son is crawling toward an open window. As Handel plays over the slow-motion images, the child plunges to his death. The rest of the film deals with the after­math to this tragedy. She is almost swal­lowed up by her grief, and spends a month in hos­pital on med­ic­a­tion. He’s a ther­apist, and resents the fact that someone else is treating his wife. With a curious detach­ment, he takes over his wife’s therapy, con­vin­cing her that she needs to throw away the med­ic­a­tion and face her grief head-on. As she slyly points out, he has never paid so much atten­tion to her as when she becomes his patient. She also accuses him of indif­fer­ence to the death of their child.

As she passes through the stages of grief, she enters a phase of tre­mendous fear and anxiety. She suf­fers panic attacks, and in an effort to treat her, he asks her to tell him where she feels most afraid. She tells him that the woods ter­rify her, refer­ring to the forest around their rural cabin, omin­ously named “Eden.” She and their son had spent the pre­vious summer there, while she tried to finish her thesis, on gyn­o­cide (viol­ence against women.) They pack their things and head to the cabin, where things gradu­ally unravel and acts of hor­rific viol­ence take place.

The film is divided into chapters, with a pro­logue and epi­logue framing four chapters entitled Grief, Pain, Despair, and The Three Beggars. The last refers to a col­lec­tion of fig­ur­ines glimpsed early in the film, each named for one of the other chapters. Grief, Pain and Despair also come to be asso­ci­ated with three dif­ferent animals the couple encounter in the woods. Grief is a fox, Pain is a crow, while Despair is a deer. The Three Beggars also refers to a con­stel­la­tion men­tioned in Gainsbourg’s thesis, although Dafoe declares late in the film that no such con­stel­la­tion exists. If this gives you the idea that the film is crammed with sym­bolism, you’d be right. The violent con­front­a­tion between He and She is not so much between two people as it is between two ways of thinking. Dafoe is rational and con­trolling, and he’s totally unaware of his own arrog­ance. His wife rep­res­ents the chaos of emo­tion, both fear and rage, and the dark­ness of nature. Nature as rep­res­ented by the forest set­ting refers both to the nat­ural phys­ical world as well as to the mys­teries of human nature. As a lit­er­ature stu­dent, I remember being intro­duced to the concept of the forest as the wild, uncon­trol­lable uncon­scious mind and our animal nature.

What becomes obvious in the woods is that these two (or pos­sibly more) ways of thinking cannot co-exist. One will have to con­quer the other and that means that someone will die. From my very basic under­standing of He and She, the pos­sib­il­ities are that the clash of sys­tems might represent:

  • Male vs. Female (very basic)
  • Science vs. Intuition
  • Rationality vs. Morality

Director von Trier has said that he made the film in the midst of a very ser­ious depres­sion and it’s clear that it is the work of someone who is strug­gling with what it means to be a sup­posedly rational being in a world that often seems far from rational. It’s muddled but auda­cious, and I can think of no one else cur­rently making films that give us so much to think about as well as so much to feel. Though the last twenty minutes or so will make a repeat viewing a bit of a chal­lenge, there is a lot I want to figure out. I think that most of all, it’s a beautifully-constructed film, with stun­ning cine­ma­to­graphy and a thought-provoking script. Charlotte Gainsbourg in par­tic­ular shows tre­mendous range in a very dif­fi­cult role. The irony is that in a film where a fox sol­emnly intones that “Chaos reigns,” that a man has crafted the mes­sage so carefully.

Antichrist opens in Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver on November 13, 2009.

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

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Eh! U European Film Festival 2008

Despite being saddled with a rather goofy name, the Eh! U European Film Festival is worthy of being included in your film cal­endar for a number of reasons:

  • Participation from 24 European coun­tries might make this the most com­pre­hensive local survey of European film apart from TIFF
  • Stretches over two full weeks in late November, when my film fest­ival schedule is oth­er­wise clear.
  • Though it’s been around since 2004, it seems to be finally coming into its own, screening a com­bin­a­tion of fest­ival hits, prize win­ners and undis­covered gems.
  • Best of all, all screen­ings are com­pletely FREE, thanks to the spon­sor­ship of the various con­su­lates, embassies and cul­tural institutes.

I’m par­tic­u­larly excited about the lineup this year, which has a number of high-profile films I’d missed at pre­vious fest­ivals. To wit:

  • France: Entre les murs (The Class) — This Palme d’Or winner never actu­ally made it to TIFF this year, so I’m delighted it’s coming to Toronto in a free screening.
  • Ireland: A Film With Me In It — The pres­ence of Dylan Moran (Black Books) is reason enough to see this black comedy.
  • Poland: Katyn — From Polish master Andrzej Wajda (Ashes and Diamonds), the story of the mas­sacre of Polish intel­lec­tuals and army officers by the Red Army in 1940. Wajda, now 82, has said he’s waited many years to make this film, and only now has the polit­ical cli­mate and rela­tion­ship between Poland and Russia made it pos­sible. This is sure to be be an emo­tional screening if mem­bers of Toronto’s large Polish com­munity attend.
  • Portugal: Colossal Youth (Juventude em Marcha) — Pedro Costa’s 2006 film was written about in all the film magazines but has so far been an elu­sive screening around here.
  • Germany: And Along Come Tourists (Am Ende kommen Touristen) — I remember this playing TIFF in 2007. Intriguing sub­ject matter: A young German is assigned to Auschwitz to per­form his civil ser­vice and must care for an eld­erly Polish Holocaust sur­vivor who never left the camp.
  • Denmark: The Art of Crying (Kunsten at græde i kor) — Another 2007 TIFF selec­tion, this film is the story of a very dys­func­tional family, seen through the eyes of 11-year-old Allan.

And those are only the films I’m already familiar with. Boasting such a strong lineup this year, and at an unbeat­able price, Eh! U looks like a can’t miss event.

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The Boss Of It All (Direktøren for det hele)

The Boss Of It All (Direktøren for det hele) (Director: Lars von Trier, Denmark, 2006): After a string of ser­ious and polit­ical films, Danish bad boy Lars von Trier has dir­ected what he describes as a “harm­less” comedy. Ravn, the owner of an IT firm, is inter­ested in selling his com­pany to an Icelandic busi­nessman (a clever cameo by Icelandic dir­ector Fridrik Thor Fridriksson), but for the past ten years has pre­tended that the actual owner (“the boss of it all”) lives in America. It’s a ruse that has allowed him to blame all the hard decisions on the absent owner and take all the credit for any suc­cesses him­self. But now he needs to pro­duce this phantom in order to sign the deal, so he hires Kristoffer, an out-of-work actor whose self-importance is com­ic­ally out­sized com­pared to his talent. The hijinks begin when the company’s employees catch a glimpse of the man they’ve been waiting ten years to meet.

At first, it’s easy to snow the employees with busi­ness dou­blespeak, but soon he finds out that Ravn has been sending emails to them over the years posing as “the boss of it all” and he’s neg­lected to tell Kristoffer who’s been told which lie. Within a few days, he’s been seduced by one employee, punched by another, and engaged to a third. As the scheme spirals out of both men’s con­trol, the Icelanders return to seal the deal.

At this point, Kristoffer dis­covers that Ravn’s plan is to sell the com­pany, lay off all the employees, and profit from intel­lec­tual prop­erty that is not his to sell. Kristoffer’s ini­tial solu­tion threatens a form of infinite regress, with him blaming an absent “boss of the boss of it all.” Fortunately, he changes tac­tics, but just as we think he is going to show some moral courage, his actor’s ego over­whelms him.

The film plays a bit like a Shakespearean comedy, in that dir­ector von Trier inserts him­self into the film as nar­rator at sev­eral points, explaining what is coming up or what has just happened. And as a script, it’s clever and fre­quently hil­arious. The actors are also well-chosen, with the two leads espe­cially well-cast. The problem for me is that as a film, it isn’t visu­ally inter­esting. At this point, I need to insert some­thing about Automavision™, “a prin­ciple for shooting film (and recording the sound) developed with the inten­tion of lim­iting human influ­ence by inviting chance in from the cold and thus giving the work an ‘idea­less’ sur­face free of the force of habit and aes­thetics.” What this means is that after the cine­ma­to­grapher chooses a camera pos­i­tion and aper­ture, a com­puter algorithm off­sets it so that each shot achieves a kind of ran­dom­ness. In prac­tice, it was slightly dis­tracting, and cer­tainly didn’t add any­thing to a visu­ally unin­spired film.

There are a lot of jokes made in the film at the expense of the “artistic” theatre actor, but in this case, The Boss Of It All might just be more at home on an actual stage.

UPDATE: The film opens in Toronto on July 13.

Official site for the film

7/10(7/10)

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