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.

This Is Not A House, It Is A Machine: Thir13en Ghosts (2001)

This (Thir13en Ghosts) and the spelling in the title will be the only times I acknowledge the correct spelling of Thirteen Ghosts because it is a pain in the ass to type quickly and is frankly rather obnoxious in that it really serves no purpose aside from going out of its way to be different, or possibly to avoid some issues in copyright that were likely faced by the producers of this film.  Indeed, the trying to be cool that translates into obnoxiousness is perhaps the best way to describe what is occurring in Thirteen Ghosts, a bit of 2001 flare that was brought to my attention when I heard an employee at the great land of high film tastes Blockbuster, suggesting it to a customer, claiming that it was one of the better scary movies of the past decade or so.  To be fair, this Blockbuster was going out of business and I had a copy of Session 9 in my hand ready to purchase, incidentally a far superior film (my personal favorite of horror cinema) and a work that came out in the same year.  I, as is usual, am digressing from the film at hand Thirteen Ghosts, or what could also be described as the biggest squandering of potential committed in the digital age.  Thirteen Ghosts does a few really cool things visually throughout, but for every bit of great work done, even the glaringly outdated CGI, there are a ton of terrible narrative choices, only doubled by a lot of blatant breaks in continuity or signifiers of bad, or more appropriately lazy, filmmaking.  It is almost too obvious that all the film's budget was dumped into the makeup and special effects for this film, which do pay off, even if cheesy by contemporary standards wherein post-production has become exponentially better, allowing for the uses of such creatures to more evocatively work.  Indeed, for being little more than a barebones labyrinth narrative, Thirteen Ghosts never really amounts to anything remotely tangible, given minimally realized characters, placed in a space hat is clearly influenced by the point and click adventure world of only a few years prior, one could mistake this work as a misguided labor of love by Steve Beck, whose only two directorial efforts come in the way of somewhat obscure horror film remakes, but attaching the term love to this would suggest it was made with any degree of passion, which is far from the case and as much as Tony Shalhoub tries to save this film with his acting, there are only so many ways even the most season of actors can deliver the phrase "what is going on?"

Thirteen Ghosts begins with paranormal hunter Cyrus Kriticos (F. Murray Abraham) and his psychic aid Dennis Rafkin (Matthew Lillard) attempting to track down a violent ghost, one that Cyrus claims is necessary to an unexplained quest.  After fending off a few competing paranormal experts Cryrus and by unwilling involvement Dennis, are able to capture a ghost, but it is at the result of Cyrus' life.  The narrative then flashes forward to show the experiences of the Arthur Kriticos (Tony Shalhoub) a recently widowed father who is attempting to make due in a cramped apartment with his daughter Kathy (Shannon Elizabeth) and son Bobby (Alec Roberts), his teachers salary barely able to afford the aid of a maid named Maggie (Rah Digga).  When an unsuspected knock at the door reveals lawyer Benjamin Moss (JR Bourne) informing Arthur that he has inherited a house from his late uncle Cyrus he cautiously accepts the offer and travels with his family and Maggie in tow to the house, a building entirely made of windows covered in Latin writing, awaiting there is arrival is Dennis, passing as an electrician, who is equally eager to enter the house.  The unassuming Arthur allows him to do so and the entire group, including Benjamin, begin exploring the house cautiously.  It becomes clear rather quickly through a combination of Dennis revealing his true identity and the splitting of the group that the house is even more bizarre than its looks would suggest, indeed proving to be a large machinery that serves as both a caging device to a variety of ghosts, including Arthur's late wife, all intended to work together in an ancient configuration to open up what Dennis calls The Eye of Hell.   However, given that the process requires one last ghost, a sacrifice by a broken hearted individual, Arthur realizes that there is a real possibility that he might have to kill himself in order to save his family.  All through this endeavor, the ghosts, many of which met violent deaths chase the persons in the house, killing a few in the process.  After the arrival of another ghost hunter and the reemergence of Cyrus from what may or may not be the dead, it becomes clear that Arthur's task might be a bit different than assumed, but no less predicated upon making sure he and his children are not killed by the thirteen ghosts roaming the halls of the house.

The plot is rather straightforward in Thirteen Ghosts, as noted serving as a means to show off a set of creepy ghosts and a few, at the time, impressive tricks with CGI.  Where the film seems to fail is in its attempts to synthesize these various elements into anything productive, even kowtowing to prevailing trends in the genre at the time.  Clearly working in a post-Asian horror invasion, many of the ghosts are created more for a creepy factor than a sense of threat, although The Hammer (Herbert Duncanson) is wholly intended to be slasher.  However, the way creepy ghosts work is to provide them with a sense of constant impending dread, as is the case with The Girl in the Ring, or pretty much every spectral entity in The Exorcist.  Here the creepiest ghosts The Torso (Daniel Wesley) and The Great Child (C. Ernst Harth) receive little screen time a choice I am fully willing to blame on a director that was more comfortable going for slash and off screen shock than any degree of ambient horror.  In fact, I am usually a fan of filmmakers using editing tricks and subverting of the visual palette to add intensity to a scene, but this choice starts off heavy and becomes grating well before the film ends.  Steve Beck seems to think the use of the contrast image can serve as a metaphor for every type of mental break in a film, causing the ability of the characters identities to become distinct or varied pretty much impossible. Finally, the film seems to openly embrace lifting the most obvious tropes from post-digital horror films imaginable, whether it be an inclusion of a widowed father with two distantly aged children, one who happens to be an attractive girl.  Despite a passing suggestion at having an anger issue, Arthur is made to be a lovable loser void of any point of socially problematic behavior, and his children's vanity in the case of Kathy and ignorance in regards to Bobby are neither problematic or worthy of narrative chastising.  Finally, and most offensively, the character of Maggie appears to serve no other quota than allowing for a black character to be present in the narrative, her constantly loud behavior and means of "stopping" the recorded incantation are not only in bad taste, but border on outright racism, never mind the closing moment of the film.  Overall the film suffers from being poorly planned, executed and produced, which is a shame for a film with such wonderful special effects work throughout.

Key Scene:  The segment revealing all the ghosts simultaneously is the only thing of interest in this film and it comprises, at most, two or three minutes of the narrative.

Avoid this film unless you are really trying to see every ghost story put to film, I would strongly urge a look at Session 9 instead, the far superior 2001 film shot entirely on digital.