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Review: 'Antichrist' (2009)

| 77; 4 stars; A-| dir. Lars von Trier | English | 108 min | R21 with cuts |


A grieving couple retreat into the woods after the death of their child. Their solipsistic Eden quickly takes on a sinister and sadistic turn.


Lars von Trier’s films are no stranger to controversy, and ‘Antichrist’ proves this point, if a little too well. Hailed as the “most shocking film in the history of the Cannes Film Festival”, it premiered to boos, walk-outs, and reports of several audience members having fainted. Sensational as it may be, the film dwells most effectively and proactively on the couple’s dynamics, their muted sorrows.


He (played by Willem Dafoe) is a therapist, while She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) researches witchcraft. He is rational, cool-headed, laughably academic — maintaining a professional dynamic in his treatment of her as if he has no part in grieving. She suffers from complicated grief disorder, unable to function even after months, sullen at times, hysterical otherwise. He attempts to isolate her biggest fear, which she claims to be Eden, their cabin in the woods. They travel there in preparation for nothing in particular. Hell is unleashed upon them. A talking fox jolts him awake: “Chaos reigns”.


Explicit and shocking, the film pays surprising attention to visual detail, often imbued with scenes of majestic beauty. The opening sequence, shot in black-and-white and set to Rinaldi’s ‘Lascia ch’io pianga’, features the couple making love while the boy falls from a window to his death. Von Trier frames his shots with a clinical precision, and later — as things plunge straight down — the camera is accorded free rein, shakily taking in the nauseating violence of utter despair.


Von Trier has himself said that ‘Antichrist’ was conceived off while he was depressed. In a way the film is a work of catharsis, not so much a misogynistic provocateur’s fantasy but a painful (if somewhat gleeful) middle finger to the tradition of rational, scientific psychology. It may or may not be a work of poetic sublimity, but it’s the closest film can get to pure nightmare.

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