In Melancholia, Danish auteur Lars Von Trier goes for the big one: the end of the world. Birds fall out of the sky, figures run, all set to swelling “so it is complete” music – actually from Richard Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde. Then sparks fly out of star Kirsten Dunst’s fingers. Since this is a Lars Von Trier movie, we cannot treat it entirely seriously. The director isn’t interested in warning us about the dangers of climate change, over-utilisation without renewal of the Earth’s resources, the demise of an eco system, or nuclear war. No, for Von Trier, the destruction of the planet is all down to a bigger one colliding with our own; it’s just a cosmic game of conkers.
The flash-forward is designed to throw into relief the rest of the movie, to make trivial humankind’s attempt to be happy. Here, life is represented by Justine (Dunst), a woman unconvinced by her own attempt at marital bliss. On her way to her sister’s mansion where all the wedding guests are waiting, her car is stuck. It takes careful manoeuvres for them to negotiate. It is a bad omen. Justine is an advertising executive, said by her boss (Stellan Skarsgård) to be “always on the job”, even at her wedding, who is marrying a young man (Alexander Skarsgård) with an equally bright future. However, Mother (Charlotte Rampling) is bitter and cynical. Father (John Hurt) won’t make time for a good talk. Brother-in-law (Kiefer Sutherland) thinks Justine is just plain disrespectful. Even her sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) cannot maintain much sympathy.
The first part of the film, where Justine’s marriage collapses, is the most entertaining. Justine is followed around by her company’s newest recruit, who wants to ensure that inspiration strikes. Meanwhile, her father entertains himself in the company of two women he calls ‘the Betties’.
In the second half, Justine returns to her sister’s house to await the imminent arrival into view of the planet Melancholia, said to have broken orbit and heading towards Earth. Brother-in-law believes – or convinces himself – that the planet will pass by. He encourages his young son to look at it through a telescope. Meanwhile, the horses go mad.
Were I to take Von Trier seriously, I might say his film is about the arrogance of patriarchy and its belief that it has all the answers.
The casting of Sutherland is meant to be ironic. Sutherland’s character in 24, Jack Bauer, saved America from catastrophe on an annual basis. Here he can do nothing. You acknowledge the joke and move on. Melancholia is an exercise in simulated feeling, in which Kirsten Dunst’s Justine reconciles herself to the end of the world, evidenced by an obligatory nude scene. It is two hours in which you wonder why everyone involved expended such futile effort.
Writer-director Kevin Smith loves Twitter. So tthe best way to review Red State is to offer a running commentary by way of a series of virtual tweets – this is what other reviewers appear to do during press screenings. Timings are approximate.
10 minutes. Three kids head off to a dark old house on the promise of sex. With Melissa Leo from The Fighter? What sort of world does Smith imagine?
12 minutes. They sideswipe a guy enjoying gay sex in his car. Aren’t there hotels?
15 minutes. The kids end up drugged by Ms Leo. So far, so very torture porn.
16 minutes. The guy in the car is the sheriff. Who knew?
18 minutes. Michael Parks as a psychotic homosexual-hating preacher moans about America.
23 minutes. Parks is still moaning.
28 minutes. Parks still moaning.
30 minutes. Enough with the moaning.
31 minutes. Parks sends the young ’uns away. Shoots kid in head. Not our heroes, another one.
35 minutes. Deputy turns up at Parks’ house. Sees the sideswiping car and is shot.
38 minutes. Lot of hand-held running shots as one kid (Michael Angering) escapes.
40 minutes. John Goodman, at last: “If you love me, you’ll make me coffee”, Gets a laugh.
42 minutes. Goodman as a federal agent exposits – hey, that word exists.
45 minutes. Siege – a familiar face is shot. Gets another laugh.
48 minutes. A gay character is killed. Gets a laugh. Wait, isn’t Smith endorsing his lead character’s morality?
55 minutes. A girl, her mother and a gun. We know how this will play out. No laughs.
65 minutes. The kid won’t save young children and is unsympathetic – duh, he wanted to have sex with a woman his mom’s age.
75 minutes. Instead of a big finish, there’s a cut. Bold move, but not bold enough.
80 minutes. Final shot set ups a sequel. Smith likes 140 characters (Twitter limit), but in his film I didn’t care about one of them.
