The anatomy of melancholy in
Lars Von Trier’s trilogy
by
Antigoni Kavoura
She
holds her father’s hand. They walk together through the park. It is a cold,
snowy winter day. “In summer everything is green and idyllic, but in the winter
the branches and the trunks all stand out”, her father says.
“Just
look at how crooked they all are. The branches have to carry all the leaves to
the sunlight; that’s one long struggle for survival”. This is a scene from the
2013 two-part drama film Nymph()maniac, directed
by Lars Von Trier.
Nymph()maniac together with the two prior works, Antichrist (2009) and Melancholia (2011), form the
so-called Von Trier’s “Depression
Trilogy”. Centered on mentally-ill female protagonists, all three films deal
with such subjects as social acceptance, sexuality, melancholy, suffering and
loneliness. Von Trier - openly admitting his identification with the leading
characters of his films – this time invites us to explore the nature of his
fears. Being known for his struggle with mental illness, the director relies on
his personal experience and creativity and conducts a cinematic anatomy of
melancholy.
“I
am afraid of everything in life, except filmmaking”, Von Trier confesses in his
recent interview for Observer. His
devotion to moviemaking traces from his childhood in Denmark, when at the age
of eleven he began producing his first short movies. His experimentation with
movies continued throughout school and reached a peak during his studying years
in the National School of Denmark. It was during his film studies when he developed
a lifelong passion for breaking rules and conventions.
Von
Trier’s movies are often characterized as art house cinema; films not designed
for commercial profit and mass appeal, widely appreciated for their aesthetic
value and their unconventional content. Back in the 1990s, in an attempt to
emphasize the director’s authorial expressiveness as well as to prove that
quality is not defined by budgets, he formed together with a group of his filmmaking
colleagues, a set of rules known as “Dogme 95”. The use of hand-held camera, the
emphasis on the actors’ performances and the careful selection of film subjects
were some of the group’s goals.
Aesthetic
rules such as the shooting of colorful films and the depiction of natural
outdoor settings, prevailed over any political demands. Although the group of “Dogme
95” officially broke up in 2005, the essence of their manifesto, the
attentiveness to aesthetic rules, still pervades Von Trier’s work.
As
Robert Sinnerbrink explains in his article “Anatomy of Melancholia”, melancholy
is evoked in the depression trilogy films as a mood, an aesthetic sensibility
that contemporary cinema has all but forgotten.
Antichrist commences with a series of
black-and-white images set in slow motion, depicting a young couple being
involved in a sexual intercourse. She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) sinks into a deep
depression after her baby boy accidentally loses his life. Her husband (Willem
Dafoe), as a professional therapist himself, decides to treat her by practicing
a form of exposure therapy. The health condition of She progressively worsens,
turning into a violent psychosis as the couple travels to the mountains seeking
for peace and emotional relief.
The heroine’s suffering is depicted
everywhere; in the hospital room, in her bedroom where she sleeps with her
husband, in their remote mountain cabin. All indoor spaces are dark and dirty;
as dark and dirty as human souls can be. The melancholic Polaroid photos her
husband holds in his hands, show an unhappy mother in a distant position from
her own child. Unsatisfied with her marriage, unhappy due to her illness, She
constitutes the central figure of the film. Self-injury, panic attacks,
aggressive behavior and violent acts are to come.
In
this film, Von Trier presents nature as the extension of the suffering human
souls; it becomes the third protagonist. The slow-motion scenes from the woman’s
walk in the woods, her personal Eden, are characteristic of her disturbed
psychic world. The forest is dark and scary, the animals are hiding and the
stream is running without a sound. In another horrifying scene, nature
functions as a human trap and its evil side is undermined: the couple is seen
to make love under an old tree, while numerous arms emerge from the roots of
the tree.
In
their deadly silent bedroom, He tells her wife to show courage and stay in the
situation that frightens her most. Later on, in the remote shadowy cottage, She
confesses to him that she is able to hear the cry of all the things that are to
die. Facing our common inner fears can be terrifying and sorrowful. Losing all
those you love and care about, is truly agonizing.
The
use of images with great aesthetic power is met again in Melancholia. The film’s story revolves around two sisters; Justine
(Kirsten Dunst), a clinically depressed woman and her sister Claire (Charlotte
Gainsbourg), a middle-aged working mother. Claire and her rich husband (Kiefer
Sutherland), organize an elegant ceremony to please Justine in her wedding day.
Meanwhile, a newly discovered planet, named Melancholia, approaches Earth and
threatens terrestrial life with extinction. The impending destruction of the
world serves as a metaphor for Justine’s depression.
In
the opening of the film, several colorful images connected with key events of
the plot, appear. A tired, with pale face and empty gaze Justine, is depicted. Dead
birds fall behind her. The blue-colored planet, slowly approaches Earth. A well-known
painting by the Flemish artist Pieter Bruegel, depicting hunters in a snowy
winter landscape, is destroyed by fire. Justine, in her wedding dress, crosses
a park as her boots sink into the grassy ground. She is desperately helpless.
The
images successfully correlate with Justine’s condition. She suffers, she cries,
she barely moves, she has lost her vitality for activities of daily living. By
presenting these slow-motion shots, Von Trier confuses us. The images reveal a
tension between mobility and immobility, between Justine’s energetic moments
and those of deep sorrow and despair. In the viewer’s mind a basic question
arises; is life still or is it moving? To increase the surprise and confusion,
Von Trier uses the Prelude to Richard Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde love drama as a music theme. It is an emotional
piece, known for its shift from traditional tonal harmony to almost atonality. The
music score accompanies the still shots of characters and creates a sense of
constant tension that will not resolve until the end of the movie comes.
Compared
to Antichrist, the depiction of
nature in Melancholia is not of the
same symbolic significance. A few pleasing nature scenes are used to evoke a
sense of calmness. In one of them, Justine is found lying naked on a river bank
near her house, bathing in the light of the Moon and Melancholia. The trees stand
silently in the background as the water mirrors the motionless woman.
Throughout
the movie, Justine is constantly asked to stop mourning, make a deal with her close
relatives and simply be happy. Vulnerable in her disease, she tries to please
everyone. “I smile and smile and smile”, she apologetically tells her sister. As
the story continues, all characters under Melancholia’s threat, experience immense
panic and fear except for the unhappy Justine. She remains peaceful, willing to
face the fear of extinction. “I know things”, she tells Claire. Through her
personal battle with her illness, she became able to clearly understand one
thing; it takes strength to be weak.
In
the four-hour drama Nymph()maniac, Von
Trier uses the motif of dark indoor and outdoor spaces as he also did in Antichrist. A young woman, Joe (mature
one played by Charlotte Gainsbourg and her younger self by Stacy Martin) is
found in a dark path behind a block of flats by the middle-aged scholar
Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård). She lies on a pavement, beaten up and almost
unconscious. The stranger takes Joe to his empty, shadowy flat, treats her and
politely asks to hear her story. From the first scenes, a mysterious and
suspenseful atmosphere is created.
In
a cold room, Joe begins describing to Seligman how her life desire to explore
her sexuality caused her as much sorrow as it gave her pleasure. Her focus on
her personal satisfaction, hurt the people she loved most. With a serious,
unsmiling face, she narrates her hypersexual life, frequently descending into a
spiral of guilt and self-hatred. “I am ashamed of what I became but it was
beyond my control”, she tells Seligman in a self-condemning way of speech.
Her
sexual life is portrayed through various colorful scenes of sex. These scenes
are only interrupted by black-and-white shots when Joe speaks about her father.
She is seen as a kid walking through her favorite park together with her
beloved father. They observe the flora around them. Similarly to Antichrist, nature plays a protagonist
role in the film; the trees represent the human suffering souls. However, in Nymph()maniac, the natural elements are
not evil. The park is not a hostile
place, but a place of peacefulness, safety and nostalgia. Later on, in a
symbolic scene, Joe finds her own soul tree; it is one on the top of a hill.
The tree, hit by the wind and the rain, has almost completely turned sideways
but it still stands still; its strong roots are deeply buried.
Classical
music themes are also used in certain scenes of the film to add a melancholic
tone in Joe’s narrative. In one scene, Joe is seen in a very young age in her
family house, playing with one of her close friends. They roll on the floor of
a flooded bathroom. It is the beginning of her bodily self-exploration. The Waltz No. 2 from the second Jazz suite
of the Soviet composer Dmitri Shostakovitz is heard in the background. The
piece is a popular short and light composition; it adds a playful and nostalgic
tone to Joe’s narrative. In another interesting scene, Joe strolls through the
park of her childhood, thinking of the man she met in her office. The Sonata in A Major for Violin and Piano
by the Belgian composer César Franck accompanies her walk through the trees and
benches of the park. The classic sonata piece, filled with drama and poignancy,
creates a very emotional moment in the film. At this point, Joe realizes she
has developed feelings for the young man.
For
the heroine, sexuality is the strongest force in human beings. As the story goes,
we see her attending a group meeting for psychological support to sex addicts. By
presenting herself not as a sex addict but as a nymphomaniac, she openly defends
her sexual identity. “I am a nymphomaniac and I love myself for being one. But
above all, I love my filthy dirty lust”, she says as she addresses to the
group. Through her overall past-life confessions to Seligman, Joe for the first
time attempts to understand her own behavior and desires. In this way, she
clears the path to her self-acceptance.
In
all three movies, melancholic or - clinically said - depressive people suffer
from loneliness and misunderstanding. In modern days, mental illness still
remains a taboo discussion subject and mentally-ill people are often treated as
social outcasts. Von Trier offers us the opportunity to get closer to mental illness,
observe its manifestations and implications and comprehend its complex nature.
The
depression trilogy, constitutes a sublime aesthetic experience. Von Trier proves
to be a skillful manipulator of images, metaphors and musical pieces. His
surgical use of slow-motion shots, produces new fantasies about the history and
feel of cinema. Melancholy is not simply represented, it is rather felt. Apart
from being the common subject of the movies, melancholy is evoked as a mood
that defines our everyday activity; one that expresses our common existential
fears and modern social maladies. In Von Trier’s world, we experience the charm
of melancholy as part of our life, of our long struggle for survival.
