In Order of Disappearance (Kraftidioten)

IN ORDER OF DISAPPEARANCE (Kraftidioten)     B+           
Norway  Sweden  Denmark  (115 mi)  2014  ‘Scope  d:  Hans Petter Moland

I am just a guy who keeps a strip of civilization going through the wilderness.  

—Nils Dickman (Stellan Skarsgård)

In what must be the funniest film of the year, Hans Petter Moland left his mark with A SOMEWHAT GENTLE MAN (2010), a droll Norwegian comedy starring Stellan Skarsgård as a low key ex-con that comes out of prison after serving a 12-year stint for murdering a man who was having an affair with his wife, where nearly every scene has absurd comic undertones.  Fighting to lead a normal life, which may as well be a Kaurismäki movie, he’s drawn into the role of protector where he discovers old habits are hard to break.  The film was such a success that the two teamed up again (actually their 4th time working together) for another dry Scandinavian comedy where Skarsgård offers another brilliant, off-kilter performance as Nils Dickman.  This time he’s a snowplow driver, a Swedish immigrant who’s the closest thing to being a real Norwegian who was just awarded “Citizen of the Year” for his dedication in clearing the snow off the extremely snowy rural highways in the remote outer reaches of Norway, always seen blasting his way through the lonely mountain roads as the snow goes flying down the steep hills.  His ordinary life takes a sharp turn for the worse when his son turns up dead from an overdose of drugs.  While the police have little incentive to investigate these kinds of cases as so many kids do this to themselves, but Nils is convinced his son wasn’t involved with drugs.  When he accidentally discovers his son’s friend that was involved with drug gangs, he begins his search for the men behind his son’s murder.  With a hilarious script by Danish screenwriter Kim Fupz Aakeson, who also wrote A SOMEWHAT GENTLE MAN, this is filmed very much like a Hollywood movie with established stars, only the arctic Scandinavian humor is much funnier, something along the lines of In Bruges (2008) which pokes fun of the morbid mood of professional hit men throughout, while some have hailed this film as “Norway’s response to Fargo (1996),” a bleak comedy the Coen brothers themselves describe as “Siberia with family restaurants.”  Absurdly accentuating an accumulating body count, where after each death their names are printed onscreen next to a cross, as the title suggests, a humorous device that works perfectly from the beginning until a masterful final shot.  Much like the “Welcome to Twin Peaks” sign on the popular David Lynch TV show Twin Peaks (1990 – 91), this sign says “Welcome to Tyos…” and the rest remains covered in snow.    

Dark, provocative, and utterly sublime, this is one of the more deliciously entertaining films of the year, a revenge saga that strikes a balance between an honest portrayal of criminal brutality while evoking a certain type of disturbing laughter in the wickedly absurd manner that so many characters meet their tragic end.  The sarcastic wit displayed throughout is impressive, especially Moland’s treatment of his own native Norwegians, showcasing petty prejudices and cultural presumptions alongside a litany of one-liners, while at the same time, cameraman Philip Øgaard’s outdoor landscape shots of the snowy mountainous peaks couldn’t be more impressive, where the crunch of the snow is a constant that is heard throughout, where snow is actually one of the most spectacular characters in the film, where the overwhelming presence of white is a stark contrast to such dark deeds taking place onscreen.  Actor Skarsgård claims that he hates cold weather, especially when called upon to perform in sub-zero temperatures when his face muscles are literally paralyzed.  However, no one can doubt the expressive quality that he brings to the film, always one of the more understated performers in the business.  When his son Ingvar is a sacrificial pawn to the drug war, Nils goes on the offensive in a killing spree, targeting several of the men working under The Count, Pål Sverre Valheim Hagen from Kon-Tiki (2012), a particularly nasty piece of work living in a completely modernistic home surrounded by his henchmen, where his blatant offensiveness, not to mention pompous arrogance and often utter stupidity (yet always seen with a smile), is often contrasted against the cool and measured manner of his blond and beautiful ice-princess ex-wife Marit, Birgitte Hjort Sørensen from Marie Krøyer (2012), who continually arrives unannounced reporting the latest court maneuver for child custody rights over their son, who’s unfortunately caught in the middle of an ugly marital squabble, each sharing custody  One of their funniest arguments is over her accusation that he’s a poor parent for feeding their son heavily sugared Fruit Loops cereal, which makes The Count go ballistic, claiming he’s a vegan.  However the beauty of the sequence is watching a Norwegian pronunciation dance around the words, “Fruit Loops,” which is musical comedy in itself, followed by the kid secretly being fed the dreaded cereal by one of the bodyguards, who are collectively helping to raise this kid that his father pays no attention to. 

At this point, the film seems to thrive on mistaken identity, as The Count is sure a rival gang is sending him a message, continually calling them “The Albanians,” though they are a rival Serbian gang led by Bruno Ganz (doing an always hoarse Vito Corleone) as their leader, affectionately known as “Papa,” seen bringing in a tray of take-out coffees for his men during a particularly brutal torture session.  Their home office is a warehouse filled with what appears to be stolen merchandise that collectively resembles a big box retail outlet.  Meanwhile, Nils loses his wife, who leaves a perfectly folded blank piece of paper stuffed in an envelope as her goodbye letter, which seems to jump start a new resolve in Nils to track down every man involved in his son’s murder.  As the two rival gangs blame and target each other, the amusing dialogue of the Serb thugs provides a stream of comical atmosphere throughout the film, suggesting there are no decent welfare systems in sunny cultures, that they only exist in cold Scandinavian climates, while also discussing the benevolence of the Norwegian prison system, where they serve warm food, there’s surprisingly no rapes, and the guards and other prisoners are actually friendly, while also commenting on the Norwegian practice of women picking up dog poo in little plastic bags, where one has to ask quizzically, “What does she do with it later?”  Western customs remain alien to these guys, whose counterparts drink freshly squeezed carrot juice when discussing plans to kill people and drive hybrid electric Fisker Karma cars.  The Count sends a message to the Serbs by killing the son of mob boss Papa, a move that backfires when they realize who the real killer is, which is revealed with such utter simplicity, when one of The Count’s gang states the obvious, “If it was Dickman who killed our people, then the Serbs must be pissed off about the guy we hung on the sign.”  Amidst a gang war set amidst ski resorts and hang-gliding, Nils kidnaps The Count’s son, who actually seems to prefer Nils as a father figure, asking him sheepishly, “Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?” before asking for a bedtime story, where Nils reads out of the catalogue for the latest model of snowblowers, holding the kid’s rapt attention throughout, seen later riding in the CHRISTINE (1983)-like cab with Nils during the final showdown, shown in a slow-motion choreography of blood and bullets, and just when we think it’s all over, hold on, as there’s still more.

Nymphomaniac: Volume 1

NYMPHOMANIAC:  VOLUME 1        D                 

Denmark  Germany  France  Belgium  Great Britain  (Volume 1, 118 mi, Volume II, 123 mi)  2014  ‘Scope  d:  Lars von Trier     Official Site

Another epic flop from the man who makes outrageous claims to greatness, but remains the most pretentious filmmaker on the planet.  Even early in von Trier’s career (whose name is Lars Trier, as he himself added the "von" to emulate Erich von Stroheim and Josef von Sternberg), he considered himself the natural heir to Danish master Carl Theodor Dreyer, using Dreyer’s unrealized screenplay for a made-for-TV version of Euripides’ Greek tragedy MEDEA (1988), a film that begins with a dedication to Dreyer, calling his film “an homage to the master.”  In more recent films, von Trier is giving thanks in the end credits to Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky, in whose company he only appears dwarfed in comparison, but it doesn’t stop the swelled expectations from this director who becomes more and more irrelevant with each movie.  While this is originally conceived in two parts, much like Tarantino’s KILL BILL Pt’s 1 and 2 (2003-04), this reviewer has seen enough in the first section so there will be no interest in Part 2, expected to be released in several weeks, while in Denmark it was released as one five-hour film, which will likely make the DVD copies.  Every von Trier film now, whatever the subject matter, is all about the director himself, as he is such a megalomaniac that he can think of little else, as all roads lead back to him.  Charlotte Gainsbourg returns as von Trier’s muse for the third film in a row going back to ANTICHRIST (2009), perfectly suiting the director’s taste for self-abnegation, the driving force of nearly every von Trier film since BREAKING THE WAVES (1996).  You’d think the audience would grow sick of a director trotting out the exact same psychological state of mind in every movie, expressing a similar masochistic impulse to fall victim to obsessional impulses that only destroy humankind.  For his legions of followers, apparently, they can’t get enough, yet for others, it’s gotten ridiculous and we’ve had enough. 

Once more, von Trier can’t stop himself from eternally long monologues, which only grow in dreary yet descriptive detail of endless monotony, where sex is used not so much as a clinical subject matter, as shown here, but as a battering ram for human obsession.  Gainsbourg as Joe is found battered and beaten, lying unconscious on the street, where she is discovered by a curious academic named Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård), who nurses her back to health, and in doing so, listens to her recount a life full of meaningless sexual exploits, which she uses to drive home the point that she’s a despicably contemptible and worthless human being.  While Seligman suggests there are countless examples in literature and the arts of equally contemptible human behavior, he provides a counterpoint to her theme, usually rambling on about one of his favorite personal obsessions, like fly-fishing, turning her wretched sexual exploits into a common sport, which he meticulously details in his own mind in order to help understand where she’s coming from, yet unlike fishermen, and despite her claims otherwise, Joe receives no pleasure in sex, as it only temporarily numbs the pain.  Seen in a Sex Addiction treatment program, Joe refuses to acknowledge the term sex addiction, preferring to believe in the lust of her female anatomy.  But lust suggests human desire, yet for Joe it’s little more than a necessary trip to the grocery store, just part of the typical routine of the day, where she has 9 or 10 sexual encounters daily.  Joe’s early life is played by Stacy Martin, where the audience may cringe at how she and her teenage girlfriend B (Sophie Kennedy Clark) casually try to have sex with as many men as possible on a passenger train, where there’s obviously no feelings involved whatsoever, in fact, love is what they’re rebelling against, developing dogma-like rules for how to play the game, never repeating the same guy twice.  Over time, however, B falls for a guy she wants to keep seeing, which only infuriorates Joe, who finds that overly sentimental. 

Whether it is Stacy Martin or Charlotte Gainsbourg, both are tainted by emotional dysfunction, as they simply don’t feel anything or show any empathy towards others.  All they think about is themselves, all that matters is thinking about themselves, where like vampires who are endlessly dead, feeding their obsession is their only way of life.  It’s difficult for the audience to watch a series of continual affairs where the woman are continually naked, engage in loveless and passionless sex, shown with that same expressionless look on their face, where this has little to do with sex as we know it.  While something is going on in their heads, there’s little attraction other than these men qualify as sexually active males, where one is as good as another.  In some cases, we never even see their faces, as they simply become an anonymous stream of male appendages to use.  There is nothing remotely curious about any of this, because both Joe and Seligman are clueless about just how uninteresting they become after awhile, yet the audience is forced to endure more, becoming more of an exercise in marathon manipulation than anything else, where it has the feel of being bullied by a director who insists upon maintaining control long after the interest is gone.  While expressed in the utter detachment of a clinical exercise, the masochistic predictability of the stunted emotional growth factor becomes all too tedious after awhile, as from childhood to adulthood, Joe remains stuck in the same rut.  While this is not a film to recommend to anyone, it does have one redeeming scene involving Uma Thurman who brings a zest for life into the forefront, like a force of nature, providing what’s missing in the rest of the picture.  Her sequence is well-written and she astounds, as always, dominating the scene, literally overwhelming the presence of everyone else on the set, making them all seem so insignificant.  Her appearance is stunning for injecting well-needed humor into the movie, but she’s only in one scene, so the rest of the film is subject to the same endless parade of self indulgence, nonchalance, guilt, and self-loathing, where one soon grows tired of all the attention paid to this gloomy nonsense, the final in his trilogy about depression, following ANTICHRIST (2009) and Melancholia (2011), where it’s depressing to think this is what qualifies as a serious effort to understand depression. 

Much better films on the subject are Hitchcock’s The Wrong Man (1956) and Vertigo (1958), Ingmar Bergman’s THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY (1961), Frank Perry’s DAVID AND LISA (1962), John Cassavetes’ A Child Is Waiting (1963) and A Woman Under the Influence (1974),  Robert Rossen’s Lilith (1964), Roman Polanski’s REPULSION (1965), Werner Herzog’s AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD (1972), Albert and David Maysles GREY GARDENS (1975), Robert Redford’a ORDINARY PEOPLE (1980), Graeme Clifford’s FRANCES (1982), Jane Campion’s SWEETIE (1989) and AN ANGEL AT MY TABLE (1990), Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky’s BROTHER’S KEEPER (1992), Lodge Kerrigan’s CLEAN, SHAVEN (1993) and KEANE (2004), Scott Hicks’ SHINE (1996), Terry Zwigoff’s Ghost World (2001), Michael Haneke’s THE PIANO TEACHER (2001), William Friedkin’s Bug (2006), Joachim Trier’s Reprise (2006), Sam Mendes’ REVOLUTIONARY ROAD (2008), Jeff Nichols’ Take Shelter (2011), Sean Durkin’s Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011), Kenneth Lonnergan’s 2011 Top Ten Films of the Year #2 Margaret, and David O. Russell’s Silver Linings Playbook (2012).

Melancholia

MELANCHOLIA                                C                    

Denmark  Sweden  France  Germany  (135 mi)  2011  'Scope  d:  Lars von Trier

Don’t miss the opening ten minutes, a wordless slow-mo montage set to the Prelude orchestral music of Wagner’s opera Tristan und Isolde, seen in its entirety here:  Melancholia Prologue on YouTube (7:46), as it’s filled with the most dramatic shots of the film, all of which set the apocalyptic tone of gloom and doom which dominate this film, as an approaching star named Melancholia is veering toward the earth’s orbit, but scientists expect it to pass by without interference or harm.  Shot in ‘Scope with a mix of digital and 35 mm imagery by Manuel Alberto Claro, most all of it taking place at a single location, a mammoth estate in Västra Götaland County in Sweden that resembles the grounds of LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD (1961), a sign of the upper echelons of the aristocracy.  After an opening Prologue, the film is divided in two parts, each representing the state of mind of two sisters, Kristen Dunst as Justine and Charlotte Gainsbourg as Claire.  Justine arrives on the scene as the bride in her full wedding regalia with the groom in tow, both in the throes of love as they experience a comically absurd sequence where it’s near impossible for the driver to park a stretch limo.  This moment of levity is interrupted by the severity expressed from her late arrival where she’s apparently missed the first several hours of the world’s most expensive and elaborately planned wedding, by Udo Kier of course as the wedding planner, who after awhile refuses to even look at the bride as she’s completely ruined his wedding.  Justine can’t seem to focus and continually wanders off, throwing the timing off, forcing guests to continually wait, where Claire and her husband John, Kiefer Sutherland, who’s paying for it all, grow more irate by the minute, as they feel embarrassed by the apparent indifference of the bride.  Nonetheless, despite Claire’s continual interference, supposedly reminding her sister of her social obligations, Justine just never gets the hang of it, and her more casual air doesn’t match the growing mood of annoyance and frazzled nerves, especially from Justine’s unhappily separated parents, the equally carefree John Hurt dangling two women named Betty on his arm, and the contemptuous view of her domineering mother, Charlotte Rampling, who hates weddings in general and is not afraid to express her misanthropic views. 

The man in the middle of this apparent wedding from hell is Alexander Skarsgård as Michael, the groom, a perfectly charming and innocent young man who’s thrilled at the idea of being married to Justine, though, as the night goes on, he learns he really doesn’t know her at all.  When the father of the groom, Stellan Skarsgård, makes a perfectly odious speech about his preference between his son’s happiness and his own business success, he quite naturally chooses the success of his business, which simply stakes his claim as the biggest egoist in the room.  There’s plenty of behind the scenes nastiness, especially when Justine has had enough and simply tells off the father-in-law that he’s an imbecile whose arrogance is despicable, where he and his family, again with the groom in tow, quickly exit the premises.  One guesses this may all blow over by the morning, but it doesn’t, as the sisters, for days, weeks, or even months afterwards, continue to inhabit the immense grounds, which is located on a golf course.  Never once throughout this ordeal is anyone ever seen actually playing golf at this ultra exclusive country estate.  Only afterwards is there a suggestion that Justine suffers from depression, which really isn’t remotely suggested during the wedding party itself, where instead the idea of a perfect day where she's supposed to be happy is literally forced upon her, leaving her bewildered and in a state of confusion and mixed emotions, where in the aftermath she simply lies around unable to get out of bed.  Sometime later, as the film switches to the other sister, with the mysterious planet moving ever closer, Claire is openly suspicious about the possibilities of what could happen when Melancholia passes near the earth.  John, however, considers himself something of a science expert, who’s continually looking up at the star in his telescope, sharing the moment with his young son, and can barely contain his enthusiasm at this priceless moment, knowing all scientific experts have predicted the star will simply pass by, allowing an unheard of opportunity for skywatchers.   

The mood in the second segment grows more broodingly intense, as Claire becomes more unsettled at the thought of potential doom, despite her husband’s calming speeches to the contrary, she still has her suspicions, made all the more ominous by the abnormal behavior of animals, especially their horses that won’t sit still in their stalls, whinnying and remaining restlessly agitated throughout the day and night.  While Claire grows more hysterical, especially for the life of her son, it’s Justine that develops a calmly fatalistic attitude, sensing the end is near, claiming she knows life in the universe exists only on earth and it’s about to come to an end where no one will notice its absence.  Her ease in accepting impending doom is in stark contrast to her panic ridden sister, where the sisters seem to represent opposite ends of the distressed mood spectrum, but it’s all displayed with heightened melodrama that reeks of excess, especially from Gainsbourg, where the director continues to flood the theater with the neverending sounds of Wagner, a monotonously repetitive theme of gloom that drives the point home with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, as we’ve obviously gotten the point, but is that all there is?  Is this a one-note drama?  All we ever see are the few lives that remain on these massive grounds, where the spacious emptiness is substantial, as all the other people in the world are missing, as no one else is ever seen, as if these are the last humans on earth.  There is no radio, television, Internet news, phone calls, no sirens blaring, nothing to connect these life forms to anyone else on earth, and all this is before anything happens.  Dunst, who won the Best Actress Award at Cannes is good, but nothing special, where the ominous atmospheric mood is substantial, as the director contemplates a scenario where the human race and planet earth are on the verge of collapse from a mysteriously off course star that appears out of nowhere.  Obviously anything’s possible, but this is a bewildering climax that is overly hyped and pre-ordained from the opening prologue, so there’s little mounting tension or suspense.  Judging from the blasé evidence of life shown in the two or so hours onscreen, there is little sustained human drama that makes this feel in any way memorable.