Lars von Trier calls Melancholia a “rom com” but I don’t think anybody else would since the movie opens (and closes) with the obliteration of the entire planet. “No more happy endings,” the dour Dane proclaims. But despite a wedding reception from hell and a beautiful and brilliant depiction of depression, this is not a sad movie. Maybe that is because, for a melancholic like Von Trier, the end of all life in the universe isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
I met Von Trier a few years ago, filming an interview for Channel Four when he was doing press for Antichrist. Having just seen that harrowing film, I assumed he would be cynical, dark, even evil. I was wrong: kind, sensitive, gentle, Von Trier was not at all the sort of man I had imagined from his movies. In his simple office on the outskirts of Copenhagen, he told us he had made Antichrist to get over a deep, crippling depression. His producer had proposed the film mainly to give Von Trier a reason to get out of bed. Melancholia is a companion piece, a portrait of the life of a very fortunate, talented, and well-loved depressive. Von Trier, despite his reputation for misogyny, claims to identify with his female characters and in this film, Kirsten Dunst is clearly his stand-in, illustrating his conviction that the melancholic have a better grasp on reality than the rest of us.
After the destruction of the earth in pretty super-slow motion, we flash back a month into the familiar Von Trier world of the rich and miserable. A white super-stretch limo is comically stuck on a tiny turning on a country road. It is taking Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Michael (Alexander Skarsgard) to their lavish wedding reception in a castle owned by her brother-in-law (Kiefer Sutherland), who wants to give Justine the best wedding money can buy. Everything is perfect, except the bride, who, suffering from depression, pulls a series of crazed stunts. She takes a solitary bath while the guests wait patiently downstairs for her to cut the cake. She has sex with a man she just met (and doesn’t particularly like) on a golf course when she should be making love to her husband in the bridal suite. Before the night is over, so is the marriage. The guest leave confused and disappointed but somehow not particularly surprised.
The second section focuses on the imminent destruction of our planet. Justine, unable to cope with the real world, has come back to the castle to be cared for by her sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg). Claire’s husband (Kiefer Sutherland), an enthusiastic amateur astronomer is excited about the impending near miss between the Earth and Melancholia, another planet, five times our size, which has been concealed on the other side of the sun. Sutherland, in a brilliant performance, represents rationality and reason. He rejects the possibility that Melancholia will hit us but Justine knows better. As the end of the world becomes ever more likely, all the well-adjusted characters fall apart. Depressed Justine comes into her own.
As in all Von Trier films the naturalistic acting is spectacular, and the best thing about the movie. Charlotte Gainsbourg, playing the well-adjusted sister, gives the performance of her life, raw and uncensored and full of unspoken meaning. Kirsten Dunst is eerie and effective, her blank eyes embodying the affectlessness of depression but she is outshined by her supporting cast, including Charlotte Rampling as her bitter and nihilistic mother and John Hurt as her aging roué father, who oddly desires that all women be called Betty.
Von Trier is a very talented director and a lucky man. As Denmark’s biggest filmmaker, he can make whatever movies he wants to. He suffers from depression, so he has made a film to tell the rest of us what melancholy feels like. I guess it feels like the end of the world.
MORE ON LARS VON TRIER FROM PROSPECT
Widescreen - The controversial Danish film director Lars von Trier rarely gives interviews, but he allowed Mark Cousins into his remote bunker
Unhappy endings - Lars von Trier’s behaviour at Cannes overshadowed his powerful new film, argues Matthew Sweet, who finds contemporary depictions of dystopia harsher than those of the last century
