Antichrist (2009)

Lars von Trier's "Antichrist"

The talented Danish writer-director Lars von Trier has been linked with controversy for so long that the two items would be considered a common law marriage by now. That much doesn’t change with “Antichrist,” his avant-garde psychological drama from 2009 that’s said to be the beginning of his so-called Depression Trilogy. The other two are “Melancholia” and the two-part “Nymphomaniac,” which I haven’t yet screened.

“Antichrist” is, for many reasons, perhaps von Trier’s most unapologetic and brazen effort, confining itself chiefly to the lives of two characters—a man (Willem Dafoe) and woman (Charlotte Gainsbourg, in a remarkable performance)—both unnamed, for the large part of its 108-minute running time. The couple is married; the man, a therapist and the woman, a writer. As the film opens, they are having sex, filmed by von Trier in slow-motion to the strains of classical music. Meanwhile, their young boy (the only other character) escapes from his crib and somehow climbs up to an open, second-story window and falls to his death during an otherwise gentle, peaceful snowstorm.

Indeed, von Trier uses this sad, very human tragedy as a springboard for what eventually becomes a dark, frenzied and hyperbolic referendum on good, evil and nature itself. At first, the couple deals with the pain through rational conversations, but when the woman continues to suffer, the man decides that she should confront some of her deepest fears. From there, the action shifts to a remote, dilapidated cabin standing off in some particularly dense and gloomy woods.

Shot in West Germany, “Antichrist” is said to have been inspired by von Trier’s sudden fascination with horror films and the creepy visuals—a combination of “The Evil Dead,” “Blue Velvet” and “The Ring”—along with ominous music (skillfully done by Kristian Eidnes Andersen) are effectively chilling. The film works well, for a time, as a kind of artsy, psychological horror film, in which terrors that haunt the characters function as metaphors for emotions like lingering guilt, nagging regret, boiling anger, and skewed faith.

The tragedy at the beginning leaves the characters in a state of almost inescapable grief, numb and virtually incapable of feeling anything. The horror is that as a result, the most ordinary human reactions to sexual pleasure or physical pain are blurred and become virtually indistinguishable. Unfortunately, the movie runs off the rails in the last third, as von Trier piles on unnecessary scenes of sexual aggression, self-mutilation and graphic violence.

Lars von Trier is a gifted director who has made some masterpieces (“Breaking the Waves,” “Dancer in the Dark”) both visually striking and emotionally satisfying. No doubt there will be more. Even though ultimately spoiled by uneven execution, “Antichrist” has moments of brilliance and is never less than riveting. Maybe it’s best summed up with a controversial statement worthy of its author—“Antichrist” is a flawed, infuriating mess from a commanding filmmaker.