The Hippest Kids In Town

Let’s get one thing straight, Melancholia is a disaster movie, although that doesn’t mean you’ll find it sharing shelf-space with 2012 and The Day After Tomorrow in HMV - Melancholia is an art-house disaster movie. Sound pretentious? Well, it is pretentious, and indulgent, it’s typical Lars Von Trier (Dogville, Antichrist), but it’s also beautiful and poignant.

The film shares thematic space with Archipelago and The Tree of Life, two other films released in 2011 that I like to call “landscape epics”, films that derive meaning and symbolism through the use of nature and breathtaking scenery. The Tree of Life sits at the far end of the scale, Terence Malik’s scope so wide-reaching and huge in proportion, whereas Archipelago rests at the other end, Joanna Hogg’s story more focused and detailed. Melancholia falls somewhere in the middle.

Melancholia tackles the dark subject of depression, an illness which Von Trier himself has suffered with, and places it against the backdrop of the end of the world, as seen through the eyes of two sisters, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg). The planet “Melancholia” has been hiding behind the sun for years and years, and is now on a collision course with Earth, I don’t think the metaphor could be any more underlined than that.

It’s Justine’s wedding day, she has just married the understanding, caring Michael (Alexander Skarsgård), and Claire and her husband John (Keifer Sutherland) have laid on a lavish reception. Despite the best efforts of those around her, Justine is unable to shake the lingering sadness, she removes herself from the forced rituals and trivial obligations, and sets upon a self-destructive path, sabotaging the things that are supposed to make her happy.

Justine spends the first half of the film contained within her wedding dress, which she proceeds to rip, tear and dirty, in her continuous acts of defiance. But when she is allowed to remove her dress, in the bedroom with Michael, she refuses, and asks him to zip her back up, another refusal to comply with ritual, acting out against something she is “supposed” to do. Yet in the face of destruction, Justine strips bare, almost in a tranquil state of acceptance. It is only with the impending doom of the planet that Justine is truly at ease.

Claire on the surface appears stable and together, she has a husband and a son, and a gorgeous house. She likes to be scheduled and organised, as seen in her desperate attempts to control Justine’s wedding reception. But as Melancholia draws nearer, and the inevitably of death sinks in, Claire breaks down, unable to control her fate. It is inescapable, just like depression is inescapable, just like the estate in which the film takes place is inescapable, on three separate occasions characters are unable to cross the bridge that leads to the village. This is something beyond Claire’s control, and drinking wine and singing songs on the terrace isn’t going to change that.

For Justine, it is control that she has been running from her entire life, her response to control is often erratic and aggressive, so she welcomes the loss of containment, and finds a peacefullness in the end of the world, almost life-affirming.

Von Trier has created a meditative film on the end of the world. While his ideas are big, his story is focused and contemplative, drawing a career best performance from Kirsten Dunst, who deserves all the praise she has received, but who is equally matched by the always impressive Charlotte Gainsbourg. From a purely visual perspective the film is stunning, particularly the opening slow motion shots which foreshadow events to come. The end of the world has never looked so bleak yet so beautiful.

by Martin Holmes