“This is the way the world ends,” T.S. Eliot wrote in 1925. “Not with a bang but a whimper.” If the world ends anything like it does in “Melancholia,” the poet was prescient. And why wouldn’t it? Disaster movies assume we’d have warning of any apocalypse — and that we’d spend our last hours fighting for our lives and reflecting on what really matters. Just listen to how cliched that sounds.
It’s silly to suppose that human nature disengages in a disaster. We’re more likely to spend our final moments continuing the petty dramas that make up too much of our short time — even without a cataclysm — here on Earth. That’s what Danish director Lars von Trier believes, anyway, and there’s not much reason to doubt it. His main character, the depressive Justine, certainly wouldn’t. But then, the director has conceded that this infuriating creation is a lot like the man from whose original head she’s sprung.
| Onscreen |
| ‘Melancholia’ |
| 2.5 out of 4 stars |
| Stars: Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Alexander Skarsgard, Kiefer Sutherland |
| Director: Lars von Trier |
| Rated: R for some graphic nudity, sexual content and language |
| Running time: 136 minutes |
The depressed director discovered that those suffering from his condition tend to be calmer than the average person when catastrophe strikes. It seems an unlikely generalization, though it can’t be denied that some people who feel life is worthless wouldn’t be alarmed when faced with its end.
In the first half of this film, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) celebrates her wedding to Michael (Alexander Skarsgard) — though “celebrates” is the wrong word. In the car on the way from the ceremony to the reception, the two look happily in love. But the marriage doesn’t look like it will survive the end of the evening, after it’s clear that Justine’s melancholia is unaffected by her new status.
In the second half of the film, it’s Justine’s sister, Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), who is unhappy. Her husband (improbably, Kiefer Sutherland) knows the stars, and suspects the planet barreling toward our Earth (also called Melancholia) will destroy it. Yet they don’t make their peace with the world and each other — as Justine seems to have done, without effort. If I had parents (Charlotte Rampling and John Hurt) who used my wedding to cut fresh wounds into each other, and a sister who called my attempts to make others happy lying, I might find the abyss attractive, too.
Trier’s concept of how a group of people might deal with a real apocalypse is refreshing. But his film, unfortunately, is not. It’s a well made movie, filmed partly at a gorgeous castle, and looks far more expensive than his last. It doesn’t have the claustrophobia of “Antichrist” — nor its intensity and feeling of grand personal drama. That’s an odd thing to say with regard to a film about the end of the world.
