Lars von Trier
Antichrist

Six minutes of lovemaking in super slow motion. That's how the prologue of the latest effort from the Danish director opens. Close-up penetrations, zeal, and passion describe the lovemaking that will cost the couple their beloved son's life, who left his crib to admire the white snowflakes resting everywhere in the cold winter landscape through the window.

It is the end of an innocent life and the beginning of a new life for the couple at the center of the story: he a psychotherapist (Wilhem Dafoe), she a researcher (Charlotte Gainsbourg). They embark on a journey to eliminate pain but also to deeply analyze their subconscious and their most unconfessable fears. The starting point? Eden. A particularly evocative name for the place where the young protagonist spent her final moments with her son, in an attempt to complete unfinished research on witchcraft and the inquisition. A place where everything returns to a primitive condition, probably where everything began....

It's a strange film by Von Trier, who's always positioned himself within the cinematic landscape with a take-it-or-leave-it approach: you either love him or hate him. There are reasons to love him, chiefly a unique vision of things, enviable courage in expressing his emotions, fears, and anxieties. On the other hand, his self-proclamation as the greatest living director and his exuberance in imposing his beliefs have never quite helped him.

And in "Antichrist" there's all of Von Trier, 100%. Perhaps the film that best represents him and illustrates his borderline personality between anxiety and visionary ideas. But it also reflects his technical skill, sometimes forced, which in this latest work embodies a triumph of close-ups, black and white, unusual shots, and slow motion in the most unexpected moments.

Trying to give the film a rational meaning would only distort its intentions. Focusing solely on the vulgarity of the sexual acts, the ejaculation of blood, abortions, and self-inflicted vaginal mutilations would only reveal one side of the work: that of forced spectacularization played on the viewer's impressionability through images beyond the limit and practically unnecessary for the plot. Probably, one would miss the emotional experience the film tries to propose with its whirlwind of contrasting sensations. Yet, in some moments, the director's self-referencing and self-indulgence are almost annoying, as if at some point, he loses sight of the core of the work in favor of pure aesthetic enjoyment. But not for the viewer, for the director.

Definitely, some strong points lie in the cast and the settings. The former is excellent (Dafoe particularly inspired, along with a moving Gainsbourg in her suffering), and the landscapes and scenarios are evocative, somewhat reminiscent of "Shining" and other genre films (also "Blair Witch Project," it seemed to me). On the other hand, the attempt to give the story an esoteric meaning is mediocre, stuffing the film with symbolism and details that are often excessively cryptic (e.g., the animals that appear) or, when explicit, even banal and predictable. The psychoanalytic moments are somewhat weak: it makes use of supermarket psychology, thrown in there without actual need. Not to mention the strong misogynistic charge that pervades some moments. Appreciable instead is the choice to eliminate all sound distractions to better experience the natural context of the story and the characters' dialogues.

It's a pity, because the "Antichrist" of the title could have stopped at a metaphor, and not become a superfluous element that winks at lovers of the demonic and the occult. Because in reality, there's very little horror, being primarily a psychological film about pain and the inevitability of events. In the last 30 minutes, in fact, Von Trier, drunk on his own art, loses control and balance in search of a memorable ending, which is, however, almost parodic, perhaps saved by a more elusive epilogue.

Ultimately, a fully Von Trier work. To be read on multiple levels, certainly to be experienced as an emotional journey rather than an actual film. A visually satisfying work whose value risks repeatedly remaining at an aesthetic level, overshadowed by the menacing shadow of the author's enormous ego, seeking consent and admiration for more than 100 minutes.