Antichrist

Reviewed by J. Lunden on October 26, 2010

Watching Lars von Trier’s Antichrist is like reading The Divine Comedy while a narcoleptic holds a straight razor to your throat. It’s that kind of unpredictable discomfort I’ve come to relish from von Trier, a filmmaker who seems to rejoice in upsetting just about everyone. Critics have made a retaliatory sport of spitting venom at von Trier’s latest film, beginning with its debut at the Cannes Film Festival, where it was given two awards that you must admit make rather strange bedfellows: Best Actress for Charlotte Gainsbourg and a Most Misogynistic film award from the Ecumenical Jury. Antichrist is, indeed, a film of strange contrasts. It’s a film that deals in perceptions of evil, sexuality, cruelty, and unflinching, graphic violence. And it’s a film that caused at least a few moviegoers to toss their Milk Duds, so to speak. Nearly everyone I’ve recommended it to has loathed it—vehemently. My reputation grows weaker by the sentence.

Antichrist is told in four chapters: Grief, Pain, Despair, and The Three Beggars. The film begins with the death of a child. The scene unfolds in perverse black and white and is slowed down to create the rhythm of a ghostly flashback that has been played ad infinitum in someone’s tortured mind. The infant has escaped his crib while his parents, who are only credited as She and He, writhe about in the throes of passionate lovemaking. The boy, drawn by the sight of the falling snow, walks towards an open window and falls to his death. She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) becomes crippled with guilt and despair. He (Willem Dafoe), a therapist, unsatisfied by the diagnosis of his wife’s mental condition, removes her from hospital care. Blinded by denial and convinced that only he is capable of providing successful treatment, He determines that immersion in an environment that represents her darkest fears will ferry her through the stages of grief. “Where would you feel most exposed?” He asks. “The woods,” She replies. “What scares you about the woods?” “Everything.” They retreat to a secluded cabin in a place called Eden.

I could write six different reviews of Antichrist from six wholly different perspectives, but my intention here is merely to whet your appetite. The film is rife with metaphor and possible allegorical interpretations. The film’s title seems to refer more to the literal meaning of “Christ,” Dafoe’s character being Gainsbourg’s anti-savior. His treatment becomes a series of psychological defilements, which eventually beget acts of shockingly brutal violence. The forest itself seems to lash out at them, sending forth sinister visions and portentous harbingers (a deer, a crow and a fox). Antichrist’s images conjure a myriad of possible explanations. One could view the couple’s descent into Hell as an atheistic hallucination or a posttraumatic religious odyssey that draws analogous comparisons to Genesis. One could view the film as a satanic parable about the persistence of evil. One could even view the film as nothing more than an extremely well-made horror picture. It could, and might be, all of the above. My perceptions, as they tend to do, skew towards more grounded, psychological conclusions. Grief speaks to us through many mediums and our sorrow often manifests in our nightmares. And what is Antichrist if not a waking nightmare?

Von Trier has been vague at best about his intentions with Antichrist, so I doubt anyone will ever pinpoint the exact meanings behind this elusive work. However, I take issue with the accusations of misogyny. I saw Gainsbourg’s character as a feminine paradigm whose condition is exacerbated by violent, hyper-masculine rationalization. I feel the slings and arrows aimed at that conclusion represent a gross over-simplification.

As auteur, von Trier is among the most arrogant and self-reverential. Detractors delight in railing against his Dogme 95 movement and they love pointing out that he added the “von” to his name. Fine. But I find that, unlike some other self-professed cinematic deities, von Tier’s work is more than just jeer-attracting hype: they’re inimitable cinematic experiences with sharp, visceral edges made by a filmmaker with big brass balls. His films have routinely put me under the table. Europa, Breaking the Waves, Dancer in the Dark, even the bent experiment that was Dogville. You’ll find no chalk-outlined barns in Antichrist, though. Brilliantly composed by von Trier and cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, the film is exquisitely and impeccably made; its haunting images burn themselves into your memory. Setting Dafoe and Gainsbourg loose in a forest of horrors, Von Trier uses his locations like a sentient womb and coaxes (or perhaps simply allows for) two of the most daring performances you’re likely to see. For his part, Dafoe must be still, playing the heavy like a whisper in the back of our minds. Gainsbourg, however, who should have been awarded every thespian honor available in 2009, gives a devastating performance of nearly incomprehensible fearlessness.

I’ve read many interesting interpretations of Antichrist and have enjoyed discussing the film, especially with those who were deeply offended by its violence and psychosexuality. Perhaps that’s the trouble with and genius of Antichrist: the meaning may be locked in whatever one finds most palatable. For me, the film was a boon, a splash of cold water to the face, a work of unapologetic art, and a reminder of what uncompromising cinema is still capable of inciting. It’s the kind of film that holds its audience hostage in post-viewing parking lot discussions—at least the ones who aren’t vomiting in the restroom.

Antichrist comes to Blu-ray in its original widescreen aspect ratio of 2.35:1. The transfer utilizes the AVC codec, takes up 24GB of space on the disc, and has a video bitrate of 24.96Mbps.

The film was shot with the Red One camera at 4K and has now been directly transferred so this Blu-ray disc. The transfer was supervised by cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle and approved by director Lars von Trier. The palette is purposely muted in many scenes, but color is accurate to source. Contrast is excellent, though I did notice very minor banding in some scenes. The HD source material appears virtually free of noise and any unwarranted digital manipulation. I have the French M6 Video Blu-ray edition of the film and I can say that Criterion’s transfer is superior. To begin with, Criterion’s transfer is 1080p, while M6 Video’s is a less stable 1080i. Criterion also boasts a slightly higher bitrate (23.56Mbps vs. 24.96Mbps), takes up more space on the disc and is clearly more detailed (see comparison captures below). Contrast also appears to be more accurate on the Criterion disc.

Antichrist is presented here in a 24-bit English DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track at 2858Kbps.

I think Lars von Trier is trying to destroy my speakers. Watching my previous 16-bit M6 Video Blu-ray edition of Antichrist, I worried that the LFE was going to blow one of my front woofers. With Criterion’s 24-bit DTS-HD mix, I turned everything down, just to be safe. Criterion’s track sounds excellent, with great separation, aggressive LFE and perfect dialogue reproduction. Surround activity is not overly aggressive, but the sense of immersion is impressive when called for.

For the record, it appears that there are no features exclusive to this Criterion edition. Most have been recycled from other editions of Antichrist, including the excellent commentary found on M6 Video’s release. However, since the Criterion edition is obviously the one to get in terms of A/V quality, I will forgo any unnecessary checklists. Most if not all of the important features have been included in this package.

Commentary:
The commentary features director Lars von Trier and Professor Murray Smith. The track is basically a conversation between Murray and von Trier wherein Murray attempts to get von Trier to reveal the film’s secrets. It’s an amusing and insightful commentary if for no other reason than von Trier’s reluctance to reveal his intentions. He keeps his cards close to his vest.

Confessions About Anxiety (5min):
This oddly intimate feature has von Trier discussing his experience with anxiety attacks.

Charlotte, Etc. (45min):
A great, long-form interview with the wonderful Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Willem Dafoe: Agent of Fantasy (18min):
An interview with the always exuberant and engaged Willem Dafoe.

The Making of Antichrist (65min):
Here we have over an hour of behind-the-scenes featurettes. Most of these are your fairly standard making-of pieces. Two notable pieces are “The Three Beggars,” about the handling of the animals in Antichrist and “The Evils of Women,” which is concerned with the 16th century iconography found in Gainsbourg’s character’s study.

Cannes 2009 (21min):
There are three featurettes included here: “Chaos Regins at the Cannes Film Festival,” “Charlotte Gainsbourg at Cannes” and “Willem Dafoe at Cannes.”

Trailers:
Included here are three theatrical trailers, each presented in HD.

Booklet:
Included is a lovely 28-page booklet featuring photos and an essay by film scholar Ian Christie.

[Click images for full resolution captures]