"Anitchrist:" Not What I Expected

My expectations were high for Lars van Trier’s “Antichrist.” Besides attracting recognition at numerous global film festivals, it also promised gruesome imagery of genital mutilation and madness. While these prerequisites were fulfilled, there was a certain comedic element to the film that was unexpected and refreshing. What I expected was a very serious movie that explored the deranged mind and that would leave my own mind reeling. The end result was something a little bit different. While this film is dark, fantastical and grotesque, it refuses to take the holier-than-thou stance of so many other horror movies. The comedic effects of this film are so shocking in their absurdity that they practically pull the viewer out of the story. Against the backdrop of this noir setting, it is like licking the sweet blood off of a rusty knife.

Besides the comedic nature of several sequences, (beginning mainly with the second half of the film), there are other elements that sever the audience from a direct relation to the film itself. The beginning and end sequences: both in black and white, slow motion and set to operatic vocals, provide an element of artistry and observation, not direct relation. Coming into a horror film, I expected to be subjected to brutal images of Nick falling to his death, but instead it is his teddy bear that we are forced to watch come apart at the joints. Clearly the audience is going to be drawn in slowly and stalked like an animal, before being pounced upon by the predator.

In direct opposition to the way certain elements of the film separate the viewer from the story; other scenes draw the viewer in for a closer look at certain elements of grief. It would seem a simple thing to cross a grassy patch of grass from one rock to another, but Gainesboug’s performance, along with visual and auditory punches, made the short journey wrought with the expectation of danger. Similarly, the sequences of hypnosis also draw the viewer into the fantastical landscape of the forest, allowing the viewer to feel the darkness pressing in, the danger of the old bridge, and the ghastly aspect of the tree stump rising out of the charred earth like a barbed phallus.

This film deals with many aspects of the hunt: Willem Dafoe’s character hunts unceasingly and methodically for a solution to his wife’s grief over the loss of their child. His coldness and calculations contrast harshly with her overwhelming scenes of despair and panic. While Charlotte Gainsboug definitely deserved her Best Actress award at the Cannes, set beside Defoe’s calm demeanor it only heightened the effect of her performance. It appears throughout most of the film that her reactions are simply due to her loss; however once her true nature is reveled one has to wonder just how many of her symptoms were a result of her obsessions and madness. Despite the fact that it is her husband’s idea to travel to Eden, it does seem like too convenient of a map to follow. During the final sequences, the literal hunt of Dafoe through the woods is a captivating and claustrophobic. In a fight or flight scenario, it seems that his only way to escape to is continue to hunt his wife’s mind, as flight in his hobbled condition is out of the question.

I wish that more time had been spent dwelling on the actual focus of She’s obsession that was sparked by her thesis paper on gynocide. While it is obvious that she became increasingly frantic while working on her paper and was thus unable to finish it, this plot point in the story is quickly followed by the torture and hunt scene. Once her husband has discovered the truth of her nature, evidenced by the pain she inflicted upon their son, She wastes no time turning the tables. He barely has time to put the pieces together before she begins trying to literally rip him apart.
In dealing with the gruesome imagery of the film, while there are some shocking scenes, they are certainly not meant to be the main focus of the story. I think it is allusions to these scenes in numerous reviews that place too much emphasis on them. While it is horrifying to see modern day torture done in medieval fashion, and it’s never fun to see a graphic representation of a clitoridectomy, these scenes alone certainly go nowhere near encompassing the actual main focus of the film’s themes.

The questions of how the madness and despair of outer nature relates to inner nature become apparent when He first broaches the idea about his wife’s greatest fears. Drawing a pyramid, he searches for the most feared thing, that elusive blank spot at the pinnacle. First “nature,” then “Satan,” and finally simply “me.” Upon arrival at the cabin, She warns her husband that “this can’t last forever.” She knew that her true nature would eventually be discovered, and that she would slowly slip into madness with each acorn, (or “soul”), that fell from the tree. In the same way that the forest suddenly gusted strong currents of wind, She relinquished herself suddenly to her own obsessions.

The trinity of the three beggars offers a roadmap of the couple’s descent into terror. Most importantly, the actual constellation from which this analogy originates is simply a figment of She’s imagination. Despite this myth, it is He who experiences the direct interaction with each beggar. It almost as if his wife’s belief in these creatures is so strong that they materialized out of thin air. While the image of the deer, (grief) greets him upon first arriving in the forest, it is the fox, (pain), who warns him of the pending doom. Finally, it is the crow, (despair), who turns him over to his would-be assassin. How ironic, that as She confidently predicts that once the three beggars arrive in unison one of them must die, it is her instead of her husband that is squeezed from the physical world.

Comically speaking, the theater audience Saturday night at the Nuart in Los Angeles was practically reeling when the fox spoke. Although it was gruesome to view an animal disemboweling itself, it was a breath of fresher air to hear it snarl “Chaos Reigns” as if a devil were living inside its soul. Later, when Dafoe’s character attacks the crow in the foxhole, he repeatedly pelts it in comedic fashion. Even though the situation is completely serious, as She is right in his tail, the action in this sequence carefully balances on the razor’s edge of horrorific and desperately funny. Similarly, when all three of the beggars appeared in the cabin during the end sequence, it seemed so whimsical that there were a scattering of snickers here as well. Not all audiences may have reacted this way, but I would say that this reaction only further served to endear one to the plot. This carefully crafted balance between fantasy and horror left me appalled but grinning.