I suspect we all know it.
As artists, we all feel it.
For creative people, life isn't so much a linear journey towards the dream. Instead, for dreamers, life can often seem more like a constant pendulum swing between euphoric hope and utter despair. The absolute high that arrives when art surges through our veins, escapes from our fingertips, and take on a life of it's own. The totalitarian low that we succumb to when we realize that, despite the achievement, in the long run it may mean nothing at all. Our script may never get made. Our photo never seen. Our novel never read. Our lives becoming a chronic civil war between our inner optimist and the encroaching, inevitable, melancholia.
You don't have to be an artist to understand the feeling. You simply have to be alive. To wonder, if at the end of the day, any of it really matters.
Such was clearly on the mind of Danish filmmaker Lars von Trier when making his new film "Melancholia."
One of the leaders of the Dogme '95 film movement which championed the return to basic storytelling over unnecessary artifice, von Trier begins this film indulging in a bit of the latter. A long slow motion sequence compiled of some of the most innovative images you'll ever see on screen primes us for the story to come. It also establishes the film's slightly operatic tone which doesn't diminish, even when he returns to his Dogme roots to tells the story of two sisters.
The first of the two sisters, Justine, is played by Kirsten Dunst. Bringing new meaning to the word "bipolar," Justine swings wildly from happiness to depression as she and her soon-to-be husband (Alexander Skarsgard) arrive at a divine country estate for their wedding ceremony. But despite the apparent opulence, there is a thinly veiled aura of torment running just beneath the surface. While her sister, Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and brother-in-law, John (Kiefer Sutherland), treat her with kid gloves, nothing seems to ease the onset of Justine's pain. Constantly trying to run away. Always in search of an escape from the pain. Justine seems to have the world on a string but yet still find herself unable to pull it.
Her sister, Claire, on the other hand, seems to be far more well adjusted. The disciplined wedding planner in the first section of the film, so keeps herself occupied with keeping everyone else occupied. She holds herself together, by holding everyone else together. But as Justine's story plays out in part one, and we learn more of Claire's story in part two, things are not always as they seem. Claire too may need support. And we are forced to wonder, are Justine's antics truly madness? Or genuine clairvoyance?
Both women inhabit their roles with brutal honesty. These are not glamorous parts. Their characters are raw and unnerving. They both live their lives under the constant threat that it can come crashing down on them at any moment. Literally. I won't explain that last word just yet. I'll leave you to watch the film to know what I mean by it.
And watch the film you must. The opening ten minutes alone is worth the price of admission. The two leads hold your attention throughout. And the excellent supporting services of Sutherland, Skarsgard, Skarsgard's famous father Stellan, the always dependable John Hurt, and the ever alluring (even when behaving badly) Charlotte Rampling fill the film with nuance. All of it stewarded by the curious hand of Lars von Trier. A man not afraid to take chances. A man not afraid to fail. A dreamer willing to try to make his dream come true. Even while knowing that melancholia may come again and leave him wondering if anything is really worth it in the end.
At least one thing we know. This film certainly is.
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