"Antichrist"
(2009, Lars von Trier, Denmark)
Average Contributor Rating:

Wow. There’s a quote on the top of the “Antichrist” poster, which in itself is quite a visual feast, which reads; “nothing will prepare you for the experience of Antichrist. Nothing.” Although that’s suitably scare-mongering and, like the rest of the poster’s choice of quotes, gives the effect that von Trier has remade “Hostel: Part II”, and is also from a less than brilliant source in Sky Movies, I think it’s just about right. “Antichrist” is an experience, and it really is one of those rare cinematic experiences, that you just won’t forget, no matter how much you really want to. Intense for the most part, at times shocking, but always remaining visually breathtaking, “Antichrist” is a film that has to – but probably will not – be seen in the cinema.

The plot revolves around a couple, made up of “He” (Willem Dafoe) and “She” (Charlotte Gainsbourg), who make love whilst their child plummets to his tragic death. From there, they take into the woods, called Eden, in attempts at exposure therapy. “She” tells “He” that it’s the place she’s most afraid of, and – after flushing her medicine down the toilet – they leave. When in the woods, nature takes its toll and things go from bad to worse as the couple find they cannot overcome the tragedy.

Let’s start off with an obvious statement; “Antichrist” is a very controversial film. It’s gained some terrible reviews thanks to its shocking violence and its strong sexual content, not to mention its supposed misogynistic underlying meanings. It won an anti-award from the ecumenical jury at Cannes which rewards spiritual and humanist films for being the most misogynistic film ever made, suggesting that von Trier’s point is that witch burnings were justified and that women have to be eliminated for the human race to survive. Well, I’m not sure about that. Actually, I’m pretty sure that that wasn’t von Trier’s point. What he does mean is hard to put your finger on, but what I can be sure of is this film is that this is a beautiful film about grief, loss, and sorrow.

Von Trier’s main point is to examine the grieving process and the effects that the death of a loved one – often a child – can have on the family that it leaves behind. His emphasis is on the shock, the fear, and the paranoia that it creates, and I think – if I had to explain the gruesome acts of violence that occur and the film’s climax – I would do so with this. It’s difficult to truly convey the emotion that goes on within this couple, and so von Trier gives it a physical outlet, and this extreme violence is about the only way that such shock, fear, and grief could be conveyed physically. Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps this film is misogynist, which would explain the faceless women at the film’s climax, and I’m just trying to stick up for it, wrongly. Or, and this one is probably more likely than anything else, von Trier just likes shocking you. This is the man behind Dogme, the punkiest cinematic statement in modern history, and it’s not too difficult to believe that Lars von Trier wants to shock and offend you. And that doesn’t go for just women; men, young people, old people, everyone.

I think I’ve spoken enough about these horrific scenes for now because, quite frankly, they are not the crux of this film. They are not what drives the plot or the characters, and although they are probably what will get you into the cinema in the first case, they make up only around six or seven minutes of the hundred and ten minute running time. For the first hour, the film doesn’t really seem to be heading that direction at all. Yes, there’s atmosphere and mood, and it’s amongst the most intense hours I’ve ever watched in a cinema (the concluding third of INLAND EMPIRE is probably its closest rival), but – as I’ve already said – the film is a deeply emotional and un-violent take on grief. This atmosphere, bred from the super slow-mo, the brilliant soundtrack, the sparse dialogue and, admittedly, its reputation, is sublime. You could cut the tension with a knife, and at times I found myself watching completely insignificant scenes through parted fingers. Von Trier knows exactly what he’s doing, and not a single word, a single beat, or a single second of silence, is there without contributing to the atmosphere. And, when von Trier indulges in the film’s most surreal moment involving a fox, this tension does split. That is, split audiences down the middle (see what I did there).

It’s also a remarkably beautiful film, with no exceptions really. The prologue, shot in sublime black and white and accompanied by a piece of music from Handel, is one of the best scenes I’ve seen this year. It’s tragic yet strangely beautiful, and its contrasting of a woman’s silent climax with a baby falling to its death is both intelligent and devastating. From there, this beauty doesn’t let up. The sequences in the wood are spectacular, using the trees, the acorns, and the rivers to paint a picture with every frame. Von Trier’s greatest success is the sequence where Gainsbourg’s She imagines herself simply walking through Eden, in super slow-motion, radiant, passing what seem like banal woodland features that will soon become staples of the film. It’s an incredibly beautiful scene visually, and one that is brimming with the aforementioned atmosphere.

And so the performances. The lead pair, on screen together for the entire film, are absolutely outstanding. They share real chemistry, through the good and the horrendously bad, but it’s their individual work that really shines. Charlotte Gainsbourg won the Best Actress Award at Cannes, and she certainly deserved it, delving deep inside and coming up with an incredibly committed performance that just breathes grief and suffering. But it’s Willem Dafoe who is truly the star, delivering the best performance of his career. He’s a man in love who – over time – is forced to face not only the demon of a dead child but of a wife who is losing her mind. Contorted and unsure of himself, Dafoe’s “He” begins out as a confident therapist whose only goal is to help his wife over this terrible mess, but has forgotten to grieve himself. He’s equally committed as his female co-star, and the two of them lend the film a real authenticity (not Dogme level authenticity, but authenticity nonetheless) that was required for its success.

“Antichrist” is a glorious film of impeccable beauty and real intelligence and, although it will suffer from misogynistic taunts (I can’t say I can confidently deny that the film is misogynist, but I’m pretty sure that it isn’t) and will often be seen by loutish students just to see the self-mutilation scenes, there is a lot more here than two people chopping bits off their bodies. This is an intense film with some glorious visuals, two incredible performances, and fantastic direction. If a cinema near you is showing it, go and see it, because it will impress and satisfy you whether you are going because of the violence, or in spite of it. . JB.
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