I've Seen Brightness In One Little Spark: Dancer in the Dark (2000)

I am a proponent of the work of Lars Von Trier, while I had seen films like Antichrist and The Five Obstructions and was aware of his dreary style and bleak worldview, it was not until I encountered the enigmatic, condemning and frankly post-cinematic film Dogville, one of his offerings to the Dogme 95 group whose demand that cinema return to the very act of recording the image managed to constitute a new idea of the possibilities of digital cinema.  Dogville is a very tough sit, indeed, one of the most confrontational and, ultimately, moving films I have ever encountered.   It also happens to be one of the films for which I have had the most emotive response.  I did not think it would be likely that I would encounter another work quite like it, but leave it to watching another Lars Von Trier film to allow for such an occurrence.  Here in Dancer in the Dark, the cinephile that is Von Trier takes a the much beloved genre of the musical, noted for its escapist elements and asks filmgoers to truly understand who is escaping from what during such a film and more so, who is afforded access and privilege in such spaces.  I had heard whispers of this for some time, but its difficulty to obtain, rather lengthy runtime and an admittedly long time on my part to come around to the genius of Bjork, made me hesitant to embrace this endeavor.  I am now ashamed that it indeed took so long, because it is really something special, not always happy or enjoyable in the escapist cinema context more in line with the musical, but in a post-structuralist and, dare I suggest, post-modern cinema this is the only type of genre film that should exist, one that reminds viewers that their hopes of escaping into the world of film is always tempered with the reality that the visual image is only partial reality when placed in a cinematic where linear narrative can be broken.  Von Trier, always the provocateur, asks those watching a film like Dancer in the Dark a very stern and appropriate question.  Should the society which condemns a figure in trouble that clings tenuously to a dream, or should the collective viewership of a film that demands such dreams be fictionally allowed be the real villain.  In traditional Von Trier fashion, the answer is far from obvious.

Dancer in the Dark centers on the struggle single mother Selma (Bjork), whose legal blindness makes it somewhat difficult for her to remain viable and successful at her factory job, where precision and focus are not only necessary but key to survival.  Despite these troubles she works hard and slowly builds up a large amount of money which she plans to use to help her own son Gene (Vladica Kostic) attain corrective eye surgery so he will not have to live his life with the same crippling blindness Selma has faced.  While Selma does have the odds stacked against her, she is aided by the maternal guidance of another factory worker named Kathy (Catherine Deneuve) who helps her work through the nights and keeps an eye out for her in dangerous situations.  Selma and Gene are also fortunate to be provided a cheap living space with a local family consisting of cop Bill Houston (David Morse) and his wife Linda (Cara Seymour), although it is revealed that Selma has been engaged in an affair with Bill for quite sometime, he constantly borrowing money from her for some unestablished source of money leak.  When Bill becomes persistent about receiving a large loan, Selma refuses explaining that she is quite close to having the money for Gene's surgery and cannot afford the gamble.  Frustrated, Bill betrays Selma and tells his wife that Selma has been making advances towards him, all the while taking the money he needs.  Selma, as happy as ever, attempts merely to take the money back from Bill, who in a fit of defense ends up shooting himself and blaming Selma for the act.  Selma on the run, attempts briefly to return to her dream of playing Maria in a local production of The Sound of Music, but is eventually tracked down by authorities who bring her in on murder charges.  During her trial it is revealed that Selma has fabricated some of her past experiences, particularly in regards to who her father is thus leading to the jury finding her guilty of the murder she committed. While Kathy and others do their best to get a plea bargain for Selma, she is slammed with a death sentence that is acted out in the space of a penitentiary, but not before one final stirring and, ultimately, disconcerting dance number, one that is made all the more jarring by the film's final shot.

Dancer in the Dark, like all of Lars Von Trier's work exists in the post-structuralist state, as noted his Dogme 95 group draws attention to the very fabrication of cinema.  With that in mind, Von Trier does include elements of post-production, often in a very purposeful and deconstructionist manner, this is evidenced in the final moment of Breaking the Waves when CGI invades previously minimalist film in a arguably divine manner.  The same post-production elements work within Dancer in the Dark by the way of the musical performances, which while filmed in a realtime and on the fly do have the benefit of a post-production recording making the varied shots and ability to create continuity work.  In the context of Von Trier this would seem like a betrayal to his style, but it is important to remember that the musical numbers exist within the mind of Selma and nowhere else, to her they are moments of dreamlike escapism that often result in her returning, very jarringly, to a disparaging reality.  It is necessary to remember that there are other musical interludes in the film in the way of Selma and Kathy attending screenings of classic Hollywood musicals, these are not cut for continuity and the dialogue splits the film, in Selma's reality her escapism cannot come through the cinema, both because of her inability to see, but the refusal of other patrons to afford her extra sight by way of condemning her talking during the film.  Thus, Dancer in the Dark uses the post-production nature of the musical and its navigation of the diegetic and non-diegetic world to suggest that escapism is at play in all musicals in so much as their impossibility must exist in a day dream of sorts, because singing and dancing to all-invading music is simply not part of a reality.  Von Trier is commenting upon the world of the musical by showing that if musicals are in their purest sense the ultimate form of escapism, their success is predicated upon the viewer sharing in the sympathies of the cinematic subject, one that was established through witty dialogue in the thirties is here done through the reality afforded in digital cinema.  In either case, the choreography, music and generally cinematic nature of the musical performance is not lost, but merely predicates itself upon different standards entirely.

Key Scene:  The "I've Seen It All" sequence is profound.   Simply profound.

I know it is not the cheapest of films to pick up but it is worth owning.  I intend to upgrade to the Japanese bluray, but considering not all have gone region free, the DVD will suffice.

I've Always Been Stupid, But I'm Good At This: Breaking The Waves (1996)

Regardless of your opinion of Lars Von Trier as a filmmaker and a human being in general, it is hard to deny his cinematic presence.  The Danish auteur exists in his own world of filmmaking that focuses on the depravity of human existence its failure to advance forward in even the most basic scenarios.  Like the late Italian director Passolini, Von Trier's works are on the farthest outskirts of what is acceptable in filmmaking, and his  mid-nineties masterpiece Breaking The Waves is certainly no exception.  Although it is considerably less brash and abrasive than his later works, it is a tough film to handle and its minimalist leanings, excluding chapter screens, make it difficult for the viewer to find any sense of comfort in the films two plus hour narrative.  It is a film of desperation that offers no resolution, apart from a vague implication of something better in the afterlife, but as Von Trier makes blatantly apparent, this afterlife is restricted for only the most saintly of persons and that the general population is full of "sinners" whose own selfishness and debased behaviors assure that they will forever rot alone in darkness, with no sense of self-worth.  These ideals, paired with a blistering cinema verite style, spurred by Von Trier's Dogme 95 movement, create a film that is so poetically desperate that it borders carefully between being inescapably good and infinitely unwatchable.

A concise epic of sorts, Breaking The Waves follows the seemingly mundane life of a mentally troubled woman named Bess McNeil (Emily Watson) who is preparing for a marriage to a man named Jan Nyman (Stellan Skarsgard).  This would be rather normal, were it not fro Bess's close ties to a devoutly religious group who appears to have secluded themselves to a small community on an indiscriminate English isle.  Despite a resounding disapproval from the village elders Bess continues with her marriage and enjoys a lovely wedding day with the rockstaresque Jan.  It is late into their wedding day that Bess demands Jan make love to her in a church bathroom, which results in Bess's sexual awakening and the subsequent issue at the center of the entire narrative.  Viewers are now shown the true severity of Bess's mental illness, particularly her grand delusions that she hears the voice of God.  Bess, despite being ever thankful to God for her gift of Jan's love, is reminded via the voices in her head that the lord can give anything he takes away.  Soon after this "discussion" with God, Bess is informed of Jan's injury at his job on an offshore oil rig, assuming fault for being too carnal in her desires, Bess makes it her goal to do whatever is necessary to rejuvenate her ailing husband.  Unfortunately for Bess, Jan's injury has caused him to display his own set of mental issues which include an unrestrained sexual desire and he demands that Bess goes out and has sex and returns to tell him about her experiences.  Jan believes that by doing so he will be able to obtain sexual gratification tantamount to their previous relationships.  Sadly, Bess's inability to understand the seriousness of such actions and the depravity of male sexuality result in her murder at the hands of pirates who molest and then kill the woman.  Jan, upon recovering, realizes the errors of his mental incapacitation and arrives at Bess's funeral in time to remind the elders that they are incapable of judging her actions and that she lived a far more sanctified life than any of them could claim.  The film closes with an image of bells ringing in the sky, implying that the late Bess now shared her joyous ways in heaven and that those remaining were left to live a worthless and meaningless existence away from the ethereal joys of heaven.

Von Trier is not one to shy away from criticizing society, his work Dogville, my personal favorite by the director, takes on the issue of whether or not corrupt individuals deserve to live and at what point do individuals claim the right to execute those who have done wrong by them.  While Dogville ends on a very disparaging note, Breaking The Waves is slightly more optimistic.  This is of note given that as a director Von Trier has become considerably bleaker with each film that he makes, often attacking other directors for their inability to remain relevant, which occurs most notably in The Five Obstructions.  Regardless, Breaking The Waves focuses on the problems of sexual repression, particularly as they relate to religion.  Von Trier makes it rather obvious that Bess's own instabilities are a result of both her mental illness, which the village ignores given its rather impure nature and her confusion as to what constitute love another fault of the suppressed teachings of her cult like religious group.  This becomes an even greater problem when she faces an individual like Jan whose understanding of sexuality is completely liberated and sees it as nothing more than a physical act that is easily began and even quicker to end.  This disconnect helps to explain why Bess would agree to such absurd requests on the part of Jan, her lack of knowledge on sexuality leads her to assume that infidelity is permissible, and in this instance even ideal as it provides her husband with happiness.  It is obvious that if Bess were provided with a better understanding of sexuality, as opposed to being left completely ignorant to its existence that she would have avoided the issue altogether.  The film ends implying Bess's innocence and dismisses her as being forgiven, while the remaining group, Jan included, are left to ponder their own failure and acts of repression which led to the untimely death of such a loving woman.  It is a convoluted critique of sexual oppression, but a critique nonetheless and in this case, I have to applaud Von Trier for trying.

This DVD is rather hard to come by, but I strongly encourage viewing the film.  It is a challenging, yet rewarding experience and if you can afford a copy buy one for yourself and feel free to send me a copy as well.