Melancholia, The Cornehouse

Before Melancholia, my sole experience of Lars Von Trier was the film Anitchrist. With this weighing heavily on my mind, I booked tickets for Melancholia with a feeling of apprehension and uneasiness. Described by one critic as ‘cinema as scar’, Melancholia has certainly left a lasting impression.

I was instantly captivated. The screen erupts with slow motion sequences of destruction, yet still manages to be incredibly beautiful. Like art itself, the images were visually stunning, images of a world collapsing around the protagonists, sisters played by Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg. Later, it is revealed that these scenes are representations of real artwork when Justine (Kirsten Dunst) rearranges a book shelf and the audience can see the original images displayed on the pages. Likewise, I also found myself paralysed by the music, penetrating and deafening.

Part one tells the story of Justine’s wedding, arranged by Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her husband played by Keifer Sutherland. Each scene is inviting and romantic, the fairy tale setting, the occasion, the soft lighting, all a world away from the callous Antichrist. I began to feel comfortable watching the film, less uneasy, which was when the cracks began to show. Justine appears to be trying to ruin her wedding day, and as my feeling of resentment towards her grows, so does the compassion I have for Claire as she tries to control her erratic sister.

As with Antichrist, the film is separated into distinct parts, and within part two Claire’s calm exterior begins to unravel. As the apocalypse seen at the start draws ever closer, Von Trier reveals Justine’s battle with depression but my sympathy continued to fade as Justine appears to relish that her family are in turmoil. She seemed to welcome the chaos while Claire struggles with a loss of control over her fate. As the film progresses, Justine starts to gain control over herself while Claire starts to panic and loose herself.

Justine describes her depression as ‘trudging through this grey, woolly yarn’, and I began to feel the same about Melancholia. From the slow motion opening sequence it seemed to me that the story never gained momentum. Like the protagonists, I felt like I was counting down the seconds to the inevitable ending, which couldn’t come quick enough. However, when the end of the world finally came, that familiar feeling of awe returned. I was transported to the beginning of Melancholia; the conclusion was both destructive and beautiful to witness.

When Claire finally relinquishes her control over her fate and joins Justine to wait for the end, I thought about what is left when someone dies. For me, all that is left is memories and I would like to explore this theme throughout my project. Memories of people and things that I have lost and how the images can become distorted over time. As Justine says; ‘Life is on Earth. And not for long’.