Lost in the Movies: lars von trier
Showing posts with label lars von trier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lars von trier. Show all posts

The Kingdom II - "Pandemonium" (episode 8)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on November 22, 1997/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): "The sun turned so red, mum/And the night so black./Little Brother's dead, mum/And Mona can't come back./Aage's roaming out there, mum/So we lock our doors./There's a draught upon my pillow, mum/Will the Kingdom be as before?"

Sigrid's elevator is dropping down many levels beneath the ground floor (the numbers on the display are all negative). She has already discovered a Satanic cult worshipping deep down in the hospital, and identified Camille - the sleep technician whom we've hardly seen since season one - as a member of this cult. Now she's plummeting into Satan's realm, but then so is the entire hospital. Jørgen's "hook" has become homicidal; if the character's misanthropy once had some charm, since his resurrection he has become an irredeemable fascist, nearly exterminating Mona (until the blocks she plays with on her bed spell out something about Helmer, which he thinks he may find useful). His eugenicist urge finds a more drastic outlet at episode's end; as Christian prepares for his blind Falcon run, a worker rushes off to watch the monitor (a month's salary rides on Christian's fate) and leaves Jørgen in charge of a switchboard that holds the power to the hospital's machinery, and thus the lives of many of its patients. An elderly, gentlemanly figure of Death (Ingolf David) rides in the back of Christian's ambulance, warning, "It's going to be a busy night." And that busy night will begin in the very vehicle he rides in, with some of the ensemble's youngest characters. As the power goes out at the hospital, Christian can't receive commands from the dispatcher and he crashes into Mogge and Sanne. Little Brother is finally dead too, his belly distended, his gigantic limbs and fingers limp, his head resting on the floor. His own mother, after his endless pleas, cut the strings holding him in place while singing him a lullaby. Now, however, she has second thoughts, screaming into the night for the baby's father, consenting to give him what he wants - power over and through them - if he will bring her child back. The frame is engulfed by a flash of light, an almost atomic explosion...and The Kingdom ends, forever, right on the cusp of its biggest moment. Of course!

Well, there is a little more. Helmer has already had quite an episode - he is elevated in the Lodge, married to Rigmor (who, after all the roundelays, acquired the Mona report herself and now uses it to keep the sour Swede in her clutches), and forced by Mogge's desperate blackmail - mentioning an official Helmer knows back in Sweden - to give the student a passing grade on his exam. Meanwhile, even without the anesthesiologist's report, Mona poses a threat. When Helmer finds out she can deliver messages via her blocks, and that his name is featured among these messages, he kidnaps the little girl in a laundry basket and placing her on a circular conveyer belt to avoid detection. When her box returns, it is empty - where has she gone??? And that brings us to the final button, placed after the von Trier outro, as Helmer flushes some more incriminating material down the toilet and mutters that the only thing to make his night worse would be for Dr. Jönsson, the Swede whom Mogge dug up, to show up at the hospital. And sure enough, this new character (Philip Zandén), introduced over the show is over, appears in the darkened, candlelit building in the middle of the blackout. "I bring greetings from Dr. Helmer," he says to the official who stumbles across him, "from his wife and seven children in Borĺs."

My Response:

The Kingdom II - "Gargantua" (episode 7)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on November 15, 1997/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): I should have known. Although the stakes seemed incredibly high at the end of the previous episode, they are quickly dragged back down to earth at the start of "Gargantua." Helmer has been merely wounded by an apologetic Rigmor. Jørgen was rescued by a man who wanted to sing a funeral dirge for his corpse. Despite all the intervening leaps, we're back where we were before, with Jørgen and a wheelchair-bound Helmer still trying to outwit each other for Mona's anesthesiology report. Hilariously, there is a "chase" inside the archive room as they inch toward/away from each other just slowly enough not to trigger the alarm. Another hilarious Helmer chase involves a bailiff with a yellow envelope calling the surgeon to court; Helmer is warned of this threat by another snobbish Swede, his lawyer (played by notable guest star Stellan Skarsgård, fresh from the director's international triumph Breaking the Waves). Ole's attempt to impress Sanne ends in a whimper; she cares more about her slasher films than the fact that he's become the "Falcon" she was so infatuated by. As if looking for another avenue to prove himself in, the new ghost-driver tells a dying man (injured and eventually killed by, I think, the previous driver, not Ole) that his family will be provided for and decides to do one last ambulance run - a blind one in this case, with the windshield obscured - so he can earn enough money to fulfill that promise.

Sigrid and Bulder pal around with Hansen (Otto Brandenburg) all episode, initially - harmlessly enough - in hidden rooms, sussing out dream-clues about the nature of the hospital. Bulder is guided through a vision in which he travels deep into the bowels of the Kingdom and rearranges the stone-hewn letters of its Danish name ("Riget") so that they spell “Tiger.” When a tiger materializes before him, Bulder turns into a bird (albeit, to the great annoyance of Sigrid, one that can't fly). Sigrid takes these clues as a reference to the painting she saw in her near-death experience, and Bulder digs up a magazine reproduction of the image, that he clipped back during his "hippie phase" in the early seventies. His mother deduces that the tiger is the hospital, the serpent in the tree above it is the doctors, and those uncanny birds of passage are the spirits (perhaps Bulder, even in his visionary state, could not turn into a flying bird because he lacks the spiritual nature of his mother; he's too - literally - down-to-earth). Here's where Hansen becomes dangerous; the amateur pilot suggests flying them into the airspace above the hospital, where spirits may haunt the atmospheric corridors much as they haunt the building’s. As they ascend to the heavens, Satan is afoot below; the "ghost" of Age Krüger returns to see his son, now dubbed Little Brother, and is identified by another spiritualist as not a ghost at all, but a demon (at which point he instantly grows two horns and flees before snapping them off his own head). He is the one who killed the priest last time and as his son, part-demon himself (but determined to be good), prepares to die it seems that two Udo Kiers may be too much for this rickety structure to handle.

My Response:

The Kingdom II - "Birds of Passage" (episode 6)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on November 8, 1997/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): Sigrid lives! Albeit only after she (temporarily) dies. Jørgen dies! Except he doesn't...except he's about to...maybe? Life and death are confusing matters in "Birds of Passage." Judith's grotesque baby continues to grow (and is expected to die soon); Moesgaard falls under the sway of Ole (Erik Wedersøe), the manipulative shrink in the basement; and mystic-healing charlatan Philip Marco (Fash Shodeinde) temporarily convinces Sigrid and Bondo that he's removed - and eaten - their diseased organs through a sleight of hand involving cow's blood. Among the younger crowd, Christian (Ole Boisen) objects to "ghost-driving," a popular sport where the mysterious "Falcon" (Thomas Bo Larsen) speeds around town in an ambulance, racing against traffic on the wrong side of the street while the students bet on his survival. Mogge and Sanne love the game and admire Falcon, considering Christian a predictable bore. Determined to impress his crush, Christian takes over for Falcon one night, speeding into one of many tense strands in this episode's cliffhanger climax. Despite these different subplots, episode six is largely focused on the Sigrid and Jørgen material.

The episodes kicks off when Sigrid herself kicks off. The dying Mrs. Drusse is swept into a vision of the afterlife - her spirit floats up to the ceiling and then above the whole hospital and city, before she finds herself in a long corridor leading to a room with two doors. One is tall and one is small, and a much happier Mary emerges from the tall one to let Sigrid know that her time has not yet come. The old woman is relieved to hear she is not responsible for the spirits roaming the hospital, but she's concerned to learn that a great task is at hand: "It will come to pass at Christmas," Mary warns her. "You must go back." Sigrid is also struck by a painting of a tiger in a tropical landscape, with black birds of passage flocking overhead. Back in her body, Sigrid organizes a meeting of invisible spirits, using water and chalk dust to commune with these ghosts. This eccentric but peaceful event takes a disastrous turn, however, when the friendly priest wanders into the lecture hall and is violently attacked by paranormal forces, who appear to tear him to shreds.

Meanwhile, Jørgen's fate is coming to a head; Helmer has learned that the Haitian poison only makes its victim appear to be dead - if he applies the antidote within a couple days, the corpse can be resurrected. Unfortunately, the fallen doctor is scheduled to be cremated so Helmer races to stop the process, eventually seizing the casket with both hands while a conveyer belt pulls them toward the flames. Out of nowhere, at the worst possible moment, Rigmor shoots her lover in the back, forcing him to collapse and lose his grip on the casket just as Jørgen's eyes open inside and fire consumes the box. Rigmor may not have killed Helmer, but it's a cinch she's killed "Dr. Hook." That is, if anything's a cinch on this show...

My Response:

The Kingdom II - "Death on the Operation Table" (episode 5)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on November 1, 1997/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): Who could that "death on the operation table" belong to? The season finale left many options: Bondo, receiving his new liver (no, he's still with us, albeit looking extremely depleted); Judith, giving birth to what appeared to be a full-size man (she survives and is even drawn to be a mother - for a time); her baby, choking and screaming as it bursts from her body (as it turns out, he just has the head of a full-size man attached to a small if weirdly-proportioned infant baby)? Instead, the victim of fate's caprice is the character most obsessed with death herself until now. Sigrid Drusse is discharged at episode's beginning, uncomfortable with recent events and guilty with her role in releasing new spirits upon the hospital. She immediately returns as a patient - a genuine one this time - when she's struck by an ambulance in the parking lot; after hovering in critical condition all episode she appears to die in the end, floating above her body as a transparent spirit, ready to join the ghostly ensemble she studied for so long. Notably, Helmer is implicated in both events pertaining her to her demise. She's hit by the ambulance while distracted by Helmer's rushed re-entry to the hospital (on roller-skis for some reason), and later flatlines as a direct result of Jørgen passing out just as he's about to resuscitate her (a loss of consciousness caused, it seems, by Helmer's possibly fatal Haitian poison, gulped down in a cup of coffee).

Elsewhere, the hospital seems slightly hungover from the feverish night before. Mogge attempts to break free from Jørgen only to discover that a videotape exists of him removing the head from the refrigerator. Officials continue to badger the staff, in this case objecting to the arrangement of beds, while the elder Moesgaard has completely lost his former vigor and confidence, wandering the corridors of the Kingdom in a daze before stumbling across a quack psychiatrist forcing a patient to beat a drum in the basement. Helmer comically dithers between poisoning and not poisoning Jørgen, based on the arrangement of coffee cups at morning meetings as well as information he receives from a cheerfully spiteful Rigmor (she, along with the meek, malleable Sanne, played by Louise Fribo, contribute to a motif of male-spiting feminine irrationality). Elsewhere, mundane workplace romances, rivalries, and political jockeying take place; the hospital is as haunted as ever and some characters are in crisis, but for the most part we are distinctly post-climax, and what we're building toward now is uncertain. But when Judith's baby, its limbs outstretched like a spider's legs, grabs its mother and screams for her attention, spittle flying in every direction...things don't look good.

My Response:

The Kingdom - "The Living Dead" (episode 4)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on December 15, 1994/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): Helmer is in a wonderful mood! He grins at the young hooligans who eye his car every morning when he parks outside the hospital; as always, he removes his hubcaps but this time he hands them over to the young men directly. He laughs, embraces, and beams his way through the hallways, elevators, and offices of his workplace on what he's certain will be his last day. After all, "Dr. Hook" has discovered his secret, and by now the anesthesiologist's report has surely been exposed. Of course, it isn't. As always, Jørgen would rather blackmail than destroy and he's intent to hold Helmer's impropriety over his head. Helmer has other ideas, recruiting a Haitian employee of the hospital to accompany him to the Carribean where they will track down a posion that turns people into zombies, something Helmer learned from Rigmor's book about the secrets of voodoo. Elsewhere in the Kingdom, another book about ancient rites becomes relevant...Sigrid convinces the hospital priest (Nis Bank-Mikkelsen) to open an old tome on exorcism. Despite burying Mary's tubed cadaver beneath the pavement out front, the girl's spirit continues to haunt the hospital.

With the help of Jørgen, the Drussers perform the requisite rite but also testify that Mary's killer was the doctor Age Krüger (Udo Kier), who was also - unbeknownst to all but Mary's mother - the father of the little girl (information delivered in a vision to Sigrid in the hospital basement). The trio force the little girl into the wall which they then brick back up, in the midst of a blackout and a catastrophic tour of the hospital by a Parliamentary delegation. Apparently they left the hole open too long because the end of the episode sees an outpouring of spirits...as well as something more catastrophic. Judith's pregnancy is growing more and more ominous following her ultrasound. Jørgen and others (including even the ghost of Mary herself) convince her to get an abortion; not only is her fetus developing way too fast (supposedly only three months pregnant, she is sporting a massive belly by the episode's end), the photo booth snapshots of her absent lover reveal that he is apparently a ghost. In fact, he's not just any ghost, by the diabolical Krüger himself. Judith's decision is framed as a poignant one, something that's best for her but also for the baby whom we're encouraged to pity. And then...in a scene straight out of Alien the flesh of her stomach is poked outward by the writhing being within and as something explodes violently through her birth canal and onto the operating table it isn't a fetus at all but a grown man, soaked in blood and gasping for air -- Krüger himself.

My Response:

The Kingdom - "A Foreign Body" (episode 3)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on December 8, 1994/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): Bondo decides to go under the knife. Thanks to Helmer, he's learned that although he cannot do an autopsy on his rarely-diseased patient, he is authorized to do an organ transplant. But who will be the recipient? Helmer suggests another chronic case, but Bondo, troubled by the ethics of that idea, realizes he is a match with the donor and submits himself to science. In an equally hilarious and horrifying gesture, Bondo allows the diseased liver to be placed in his own body, long enough for it to become his property, before eventually replacing it with another transplant. After this, he can conduct experiments with ethical impunity. Elsewhere, this is definitely the "archive" episode, dominated by a search through the Kingdom's written history (one of the dishwashers notes that this lofty scientific information is in fact "a history of pain, written in blood"). Two - no, three, no, four - characters attempt to access the high-security records room, mostly for the same purpose (or rather, different purposes pertaining to the same object). Helmer, who has strenuously tried to avoid the subject of his botched surgery on young Mona, is confronted by an inconvenient detail. A potentially damaging anesthesiologist's report was itself damaged - by a coffee stain. So far, so good, it seems - at least for a surgeon who appears to be covering his own path. Unfortunately, Moesgaard casually informs the worried doctor that there's a duplicate of this document locked away in the hospital archive. Helmer confronts Rigmor, asking why she only destroyed one copy with purposeful coffee stains. When pressed, he refuses to admit why he considers the report so damning but seems determined to destroy all evidence that something went wrong.

Jørgen also wants to get his hands on that evidence, for blackmail rather than evidence. We see how his M.O. works firsthand when he acquires Mogge's cadaver head, stuffs it into his locked refrigerator, and forces the terrified young man to do his dirty work (Mogge finds out that during a security test every night, the archive door is unlocked for a half-hour). Jørgen also has a more willing - and subtle - collaborator in Judith, making calls to retrieve Helmer's document. Meanwhile, Sigrid and her son have their own reason to break into the archive: the old woman wants to find the dead girl's burial record after several more ghostly encounters (including communion with a haunted candle and a car chase with a phantasmic ambulance). All of these threads coincide during that nightly half-hour, in an artfully orchestrated roundelay of nervous, duplicitous encounters and near-encounters by a half-dozen hospital staff and patients all trying to tap into the secret space. Somehow only Jørgen and Judith succeed at attaining Helmer's record, to the horror of the Swedish surgeon as he spots them looking at it while he operates on Bondo. Sigrid and Bulder, meanwhile, get Mary's record but discover she isn't buried anywhere. Instead, the form notes "internal use" and Sigrid repeats the term, trying to figure out what it means, until she stumbles upon a shocking revelation: Mary is right there in the room with them, not as a ghost but in physical form - a corpse floating in formaldehyde in a tube for the past seventy-five years.

My Response:

The Kingdom - "Thy Kingdom Come" (episode 2)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every week on the same day I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on December 1, 1994/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morton Arnfred & Lars von Trier): If the previous episode suggested something strange was going on at Kingdom Hospital, this follow-up confirms that another world is very much present within the walls of this solid concrete block. During an operation, a patient sees the ghost of the little girl whom we glimpsed in the previous episode, and later Sigrid is able to commune with the girl via the final moments of a dying woman, who hovers between earthly and unearthly consciousness. She is able to confirm that the spirit belongs to someone who died in the hospital, after being committed in 1919. As if we weren't already convinced that something very strange is going on here, the episode ends with several surreal sequences, most notably in its final moments. An apparently dead dog raises its glowing eyes to stare down a frightened man and then we see a bloody hand leaving an ominous streak inside the window of a supposedly empty ambulance. Meanwhile, on the more mundane day-to-day level, Helmer is still struggling with staff relations. Moesgaard may be obliviously naive or brilliantly passive-aggressive, but either way his "helpful" suggestions reveal cheerful antagonism toward the grouchy Helmer. And Helmer isn't the only beleaguered surgeon; Palle Bondo (Baard Owe) is furious when the family of a dying patient won't will him the soon-to-be corpse so that he can analyze the diseased organs and find a cure for their ailment. This pedantic professional, whom we met in the previous episode as he instructed younger doctors in an autopsy, claims a noble high ground. After all, the patient's illness is rare and it could be another decade before there's another subject to investigate. Yet between his temper tantrums and his attempts to procure the organ through the hospital's secret society, Bondo's concern is primarily egotistical rather than ethical. This impression is reinforced with wider implications when Jørgen Krogshøj (Søren Pilmark), a bemusingly offbeat medic, shows Judith Petersen (Birgitte Raaberg) where he lives. The room is tucked away inside the hospital itself and decorated with an array of little crosses, representing all of the hospital's preventable deaths. Like the silent man outside the Polish apartment block in Dekalog, Krogshøj serves as a witness to humanity (and inhumanity) but unlike Krzystzof Kieslowski's vaguely unearthly observer, Jørgen is not exactly above it all. There is a hint that the superiors and the staff are aware of what he knows, and ensure that his basic needs are met to nip blackmail in the bud. Petersen, slightly perturbed by this revelation, has her own secrets: she is pregnant, thanks to a departed doctor whom she may still love. Jørgen, who has strong feelings for her, indicates that he doesn't mind and they go to bed in Jørgen's little half-hidden grotto. Morton ("Mogge"), the younger Moesgaard, continues in his own absurd attempts at seduction, when he signs up to be a subject in Camilla's sleep studies. This is the only way he can get close to her since she has foresworn any personal contact with him whatsoever. His sneaky plan doesn't work when he is stricken by horrifying, anxious nightmares and flees the room. Even in their love lives, the characters are feeling the overwhelming spiritual pressure haunting the building itself, ready to burst forth like the blood behind the opening title.

My Response:

The Kingdom - "Unheavenly Hosts" (episode 1)


Welcome to my viewing diary for the two-season Danish miniseries The Kingdom. Every day (except Saturday) I will offer a short review of another episode. I have never seen this series before so there will be NO spoilers.

Story (aired on November 24, 1994/written by Tómas Gislason, Niels Vorsel & Lars von Trier; directed by Morten Arnfred & Lars von Trier): Stig Helmer (Ernst Hugo Järegård) arrives at Kingdom Hospital as our guide into this strange universe. He is a visiting neurosurgeon from Sweden, aggressively curt, sarcastic, and grouchy. He is also deeply skeptical of any supernatural mumbojumbo or eccentric behavior, and the hospital is filled to the brim with both. An old woman named Sigrid Drusse (Kristen Rolffes), a hypochondriac and/or opportunistic spiritualist, keeps checking in to investigate the ghost of a little girl (Annevig Schelde Ebbe) that appears to be haunting an elevator shaft. Head of the hospital Einer Moesgaard (Holger Juul Hansen) initiates Helmer into a secret society in the building's basement, where a customary ritual results in a bloody, and comical, wound to Helmer's nose. Morten "Mogge" Moesgaard (Peter Mygind), the boss' ne'er-do-well but highly-touted son, plays pranks on co-workers, culminating with the beheading of a cadaver to (in vain) spook Camilla (Solbjørg Højfeldt), for whom he proclaims a passionate, even suicidal love. These are just a few of the oddballs careening around the narrow hallways and dimly-lit rooms of the looming concrete-block building. Helmer himself is no calm center of the storm - he's a supremely nasty man and (is this a real thing?) an anti-Danish bigot who stands on the roof of the hospital and stares longingly at a nuclear plant with some connection to his home country. As he voices a paeon to Swedish power, the street below him begins to crack open, as if the hospital is violently reacting to his presence. People react violently to Helmer as well; the mother (Mette Munk Plum) of Mona (Laura Christensen), a child whom Helmer operated on (resulting in her current vegetative state) blames him for botching the brain surgery. Helmer angrily accuses her of libel; he's defensive about this case among other doctors too, especially when someone mentions that it may go up before a Medical Review Board. Outside of these narrative events, a larger mythology is suggested. The opening credits inform us that the building was constructed on top of a toxic marshland where medieval peasants bleached cloth; throughout the show two dishwashers with Down's Syndrome (Vita Jensen and Morten Rotne Leffers) inexplicably chat about everything happening in the surrounding hospital (beyond even what the other characters themselves could know); and the closing credits feature an appearance by a young, cheerful Lars von Trier himself - obviously calling back to the horror hosts of yore, standing before a red curtain and smiling as he warns us of the chilling experiences to come. That particular image quite explicitly evokes Twin Peaks, while the opening title, shattered by a cascade of blood pushing behind it, directly references The Shining. However, the strongest stylistic influence on The Kingdom may be Homicide: Life on the Street (1993 - 99), a contemporary U.S. crime show. Von Trier has claimed it as a key precedent not only for this show but for the stridently handheld, bleary video look of the Dogme 95 movement he would found the following year.

My Response:

The Kingdom viewing diary


An introduction and directory for my viewing diary on The Kingdom (1994) and The Kingdom II (1997), a two-season Danish TV series


THE KINGDOM (season one)


"Unheavenly Hosts" (episode 1)


"Thy Kingdom Come" (episode 2)


"A Foreign Body" (episode 3)


"The Living Dead" (episode 4)


THE KINGDOM II (season two)


"Death on the Operation Table" (episode 5)


"Birds of Passage" (episode 6)


"Gargantua" (episode 7)


"Pandemonium" (episode 8)


Original introduction

This spring, I'm sharing a lot of single seasons, "prologue" entries, or standalone episodes from larger viewing diaries. In this case, however, I'm sharing an entire series all at once. The Kingdom ran for two seasons of just four episodes each. "Kingdom I" and "Kingdom II" aired three years apart in 1994 and 1997, right around the time Lars von Trier was achieving international renown at the forefront of the Danish "Dogme 95" movement, a quintessentially nineties cinematic rebellion emphasizing a raw video aesthetic. Breaking the Waves, a film that managed to straddle both the punk of the vanguard and the pomp of Oscar season, came out between the two seasons - perhaps enabling the creation of the second after such a delay (I've avoided learning too much about the series beforehand; as with my other viewing diaries, I'm trying to fly blind).

The Kingdom takes place in a haunted hospital staffed with a motley crew of eccentrics and misanthropes, balancing a bizarre, absurd sensibility with episodic storytelling, the latter perhaps more the contribution of von Trier's collaborators (pure speculation, as I don't know much about them except that at least one was a filmmaker too). The series is not just co-written with Tómas Gislason and Niels Vorsel but co-directed with Morten Arnfred. The mix of quirky humor, supernatural horror, soap opera melodrama, and high-tension workplace TV genre (in this case a hospital rather than a police station) obviously recalls Twin Peaks, a show von Trier has specifically cited as an influence. The Shining also feels like a touchstone thematically, narratively, and sometimes visually (at least in terms of its opening title - the rest of the aesthetic bears more similarity to the gritty, handheld style of American cop shows like Homicide).

This entry will serve as a directory for all of the episodes, updated daily. The viewing diary is running over eight days, mostly consecutive with only Saturday off; entries are written before I've watched the next one so there are no spoilers. At the time of writing, I have seen the first season but not yet the second, which I'm planning to catch up with over the next few days. After witnessing the rather shocking season finale a few days ago, I'm certainly curious to see what's next...

The Favorites - Dogville (#96)


For what will probably be the only time, "The Favorites" is appearing on a Monday, since my entry in the Wonders in the Dark comedy countdown appears on Wednesday (the normal "Favorites" day) and requires the day to itself.

The Favorites is a series briefly exploring films I love, to find out what makes them - and me - tick. Dogville (2003/Denmark/dir. Lars von Trier) appeared at #96 on my original list.

What it is • A very different nightmare on Elm Street. Grace Margaret Mulligan (Nicole Kidman) hides out from gangsters in an all-American small town and eventually the townspeople mix support with exploitation, until she is suffering so greatly at their hands that the gangsters arrive as a force of liberation. The entire film unfolds on a massive soundstage, decorated with a few spare, suggestive props and chalk outlines, a sort of theatrical blueprint. This perverse, fascinating gesture both serves - like the work of playwright and director Bertolt Brecht - to highlight the artificiality inherent in the stories we enjoy (as in Celine and Julie before it), yet the spare set also reminds us how little is really needed for us to fall under the spell of these illusions, since by film's end we're entirely enveloped by the nasty little world of Dogville. On its premiere at Cannes, the film was virulently attacked by viewers and critics who found it misogynistic, misanthropic, and even anti-American. Perhaps it is all of those things, but it's also brutally honest - one of those films in which the director subjects the cast and the audience to psychological games and emotional challenges but doesn't let himself off the hook either.

Why I like it •

Movies I watched in 2012


Capsule reviews of 15 films viewed since January 2012

(This post originally went up on Monday morning, but was quickly bumped. I fear it's been overlooked since, so I'm re-posting it now; I'd really like to hear back from readers on what they thought of these particular films; also I'd like to highlight "Who's Killing Cinema - and Who Cares", my response to the fascinating David Denby article; it went up middle of Saturday night because I couldn't wait, but deserves a bump now too...)

Histoire(s) du Cinema • The Long Day Closes • Madchen in Uniform • Me and My Gal  Melancholia • North Shore • Road to Morocco  Savages • Shoah • The Story of Film • Super 8   Tangled  Tanner '88 • Ways of Seeing • The Wind in the Willows

Antichrist


Antichrist is a film which surrounds itself with an intangible, yet undeniable, aura of Olympian, or perhaps Styxian, grandeur. First there is the title with its connotations of the apocalyptic and the blasphemous. Then there’s the reputation of the director himself – though already an accomplished filmmaker in the 1990s, Lars von Trier has made himself the cinematic bete noir of this young century, a veritable lightning rod for controversy. His psychologically brutal methods with actors have earned criticism (it’s said that Bjork vowed never to appear in a film again after enduring Dancer in the Dark), while his storylines garner accusations of misogyny and anti-Americanism. With his devilishly grinning visage and intellectually refined sadism, he himself strikes a cutting figure in public appearances and even in his own movies: the 2003 documentary The Five Obstructions saw him torture one of his idols, the older director Jorgen Leth. Von Trier forced Lethe to remake a classic short film over and over under various conditions, all of them set, with perverse pleasure, by von Trier himself (on one occasion, he rather obscenely forced Lethe to hold a banquet in front of starving Calcuttans; on another, von Trier himself takes over directorial duties, violating his own rules and holding Lethe responsible for the violation).

Yet undergirding – perhaps even motivating – all this diabolical cruelty, nastiness, and alienating misanthropy is the suggestion of a moral vision. Is this morality merely a front, a charade, as von Trier’s most vociferous critics seem to suggest? Or does von Trier, engaging in the very evil he claims to condemn, only strengthen his moral outrage by including himself in its aim? All these questions are liable to spin around in a viewer’s head while watching one of the Dane’s films, but to be fair, such questions are usually overtly suggested onscreen as well. Not so much this time. While Dogville, The Five Obstructions, and Dancer in the Dark (I’ve seen neither Manderlay nor The Boss of It All) are all evasive and tricky, their purposes are not as obscure as that of Antichrist. This new film, starring Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg, is narratively straightforward and stylistically far more conventional than much of von Trier’s recent work. By the ending its themes are clear enough: violence towards women, masochism masked as sadism, the collapse of smug rationalism. The story is always rather easy to follow, with some scenes consisting of nearly undisguised exposition, and the remarkably uncluttered cast certainly make the characters easy to keep track of (there are no speaking parts except for Dafoe’s and Gainsbourg’s; and all the extras have their faces blurred out). Even much of the initially obscure symbolism – the deformed animals who haunt the film, the wife’s obsessive thesis paper, the strange chapter headings (“Grief,” “Despair,” “Pain”) – is clarified by the climax. Yes, the “what” is not so hard to ascertain. What’s more elusive is the “why.”

Dancer in the Dark

The best films of Lars von Trier, a sadistic Danish jester, face up to their flaws and nastiness and hyper-self-consciousness unblinkingly. Their unashamedness becomes their virtue; and von Trier can be called one of the most interesting directors of his time because even if he's an asshole (and the evidence suggests this is so) he doesn't try to hide the fact. In an artist, dishonesty is a greater sin than villainy, and von Trier takes his adventures and experiments to their logical extreme, rarely trying to hide what he's doing.

Sometimes this results in a work of gripping sincerity: Breaking the Waves has been decried as cruel and misogynistic but as I remember it, Emily Watson's performance is fearless and with all attempts at nicety stripped away, a certain brutal honesty leaves no room for the gleeful nastiness that von Trier sometimes capitalizes on. Dogville, on the other hand, is supremely nasty and it makes no bones about it. Any attempt to disassociate the nastiness from the director by concealing it within "the world of the film" is obstructed by the spare set, a stage with chalk outlines, so that we can never look past the film's artifice, and hence never forget that all the trials Nicole Kidman must endure are devised by the man behind the camera, not the characters she interacts with.

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