Short Stories: A Review of 'Antichrist'

Von Trier is the provocateur of the cinema. His comments have earned him a reputation that is closer termed notorious than anything else. Upon the conception of the notion of 'Dogma 95 ' he traveled to Cannes and spent his time throwing fliers espousing the ten rules of Dogma films, only to return within two years to win the Palm d'Or. Indeed his is the only mainstream film company in the world to have produced hardcore sex films.

As such it is no surprise that his new film, Antichrist is one that has divided opinion, both among critics and fans. A distinct departure from the Dogma style, the tale is of a couple attempting to come to terms with the grief arising from the death of their son. They retreat to 'Eden', a small wooden cabin in the woods, where the therapist husband begins to try and help the traumatised woman.

The best description of the film is relentless. Trier uses all elements of the film makers arsenal to carve into the audience emotions; it is clear from the level of his control that he has mastery of his medium. Throughout the viewing (or perhaps ordeal is more appropriate) the audience is controlled and brazenly manipulated through the use of the camera, producing poetic images of haunting beauty and composure. His score ranges from opera to subtle resonant rhythms that serve to increase the tension between that audience and the film, as does the beautifully intricate sound design.

His exploration of the human psyche using the poetical imagery that he chooses is unlike any of his other films, and seems to try and match the biblical title of the piece. His use of medieval references, both in image (Hieronymus Bosch, ravens etc) and in the story add to the sense of menace that he conjures. The film draws emotion and reaction from the audience kicking and screaming.

However, the most interesting element of his work comes not from the relationship between the film and the audience, but more between the audience and the film maker. And in this Trier's ego is completely transparent to the audience. And I would expect nothing less from a man who has referred to himself as the, "the greatest film maker in the world." His name appears for a moment too long at the start of the film, and running through the piece are continual references to his own presence, through cards denoting the various acts of the film. All of these, coupled with the violence of the reaction that he elicits left me partially resenting him as a film maker. But it was more that I resented being manipulated emotionally at the whim of someone who was not even present in person.

This is a disturbing film, but a testament to the power of reaction that can be drawn from an audience by a skilled film maker who knows his craft, even despite his ego.