Melancholia
2011
Directed by Lars von Trier

The apocalyptic image of a rogue planet hurtling towards Earth and causing strange environmental phenomena before smashing into our planet and destroying it is at the center of the marketing campaign for Danish provocateur director Lars von Trier’s latest film Melancholia.  That’s not surprising, given the excitement and intrigue such images create and the painterly beauty that von Trier has put into these images, but although it may loom large over the film itself, the planet named Melancholia is not the main focus of the film; it’s a red herring, a thrilling sci-fi lure to bring audiences into a film that’s true purpose is presenting one of the most bluntly honest depictions of depression and emotional helplessness ever put onscreen.  The movie starts with a dreamy, stylized intro set to the prelude to Wagner’s opera Tristan und Isolde, where we see scenes of the main characters at different points in the film’s story, both literal and figurative events, all in extreme slow motion, that set up both the film’s mood and insights into the characters’ minds that reveal themselves later in the film, here illustrated with carefully and precisely structured images that at times directly reference other pieces of art, i.e. Millais’ famous painting Ophelia and Alain Resnais’ enigmatic film Last Year at Marienbad (the film’s title and interplanetary-doomsday conceit may also be inspired by Albrecht Durer’s engraving Melancolia I).  After the dramatic overture-style opening, the film is split into two chapters named for the sisters that are the film’s main characters.  The first is titled “Justine”, focusing on younger sister Justine’s (Kirsten Dunst) wedding reception, held at the mansion owned by older sister Claire’s (Charlotte Gainsbourg) husband John (Keifer Sutherland).  The reception becomes increasingly disastrous as family members are hesitant to participate and Justine’s depression bubbles to the surface, creating distance between her and the groom (Alexander Skarsgård), her boss (Peter Skarsgård), and the rest of the party, and eventually driving her to helplessly sabotage her own chance at happiness.  The second chapter titled “Claire” is set sometime afterward when Claire takes Justine into her home to care for her in her increasingly debilitating mental condition.  News of the planet Melancholia excites John and his and Claire’s son, but Claire can’t help but be terrified that it will hit Earth.  As Earth’s fate becomes more and more obviously doomed, Justine’s health returns, her depression putting her in the odd position of being the most mentally prepared for impending extinction.  Von Trier has stated that his inspiration for the film came while he was going through his own bout of severe depression, and that personal experience explains why the depiction of depression in the film feels so real.  For one, the film doesn’t try to create a reason for Justine’s depression.  There’s a chance that her mother (Charlotte Rampling) may also suffer from some form of depression, but even that’s not certain or lingered on by von Trier.  Justine is simply depressed because she can’t stop being depressed, and it doesn’t matter how hard she tries to make herself better, she can’t, because you can’t simply wish away depression.  Nobody in the film truly understands that except Justine, everybody else assuming that she’ll be fine or that she’s not trying hard enough or that she just wants attention, which is not far at all from how many people in real life approach depression (I should perhaps point out now that I’ve never been clinically depressed, but I have known many who have been and/or still are).  Many viewers will be turned off by this film because of how unsympathetic and frustrating Justine seems, but that’s simply von Trier refusing to pander to audience expectations.  Making the protagonist real is a higher priority than making her likable.  Kirsten Dunst’s performance is perfect here precisely because she makes Justine so impenetrable and frustrating, her motivations difficult to decipher, largely because Justine herself isn’t able to explain her motivations.  Dunst’s mood changes and moments of extreme emotion are convincing without being overly dramatic, and she’s just as convincing when she finds an odd sense of validation in mankind’s final moments.  Charlotte Gainsbourg plays the foil well, struggling to handle Justine’s depression while feeling a familial duty to support her sister, then to be struck with the same feelings of overwhelming fear, sadness, and helplessness in the shadow of Melancholia.  For many viewers, Gainsbourg will be their entry into the film, the character they can more closely relate to, although that may make the film’s ending all the more chilling for them, even if it is completely expected.  Melancholia is, despite being a high-concept piece full of special effects and visual spectacle, a highly personal film, a story written by a man struggling through his depression about how people in different states of mental health handle crisis.  And yet, compared to the other von Trier films I’ve seen, this one doesn’t quite measure up.  As odd as it is to say about a film where the entire world and all life as we know is destroyed, Melancholia feels less ambitious than some of von Trier’s previous work.  That’s because it doesn’t really challenge and confront the viewer as much as, for example, Dogville and Antichrist both do.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it does give this film less of an impact (again, ironic) by comparison.  It doesn’t help much either that visually the film is extremely similar to Antichrist, which means it still looks really good and has the same level of uncomfortable intimacy that always works so well for von Trier but feels less fresh.  All that said, if you’ve seen von Trier films before and hated them, it’s doubtful this film will change your mind.  Some claim it as his most accessible film, which might be true, but it’s still unquestionably a Lars von Trier film.  For me, that’s a good thing, and it’s good for the movie too.  Melancholia was probably a very therapeutic film for von Trier to make after years of suffering through his own depression, and if I had to guess, I bet it will be comforting for viewers who are themselves depressed or formerly depressed or have loved ones who struggle with depression to see depression depicted in film in a way that actually resembles what they’re going through.  It doesn’t happen often, so enjoy it while it lasts.  And who knows, maybe we should say the same thing about life on Earth.

Rating: ☀☀☀☀
Four out of five suns