Before I start, my rating of 50% isn't a denouncement of this movie's quality. In truth, I'm completely torn about this movie. It was gorgeous in many ways, and the meaning bubbling beneath the surface is intriguing, but at the same time, it's absolutely horrific and disturbing. I wouldn't recommend this movie to anyone, simply because it's impossible to enjoy this movie. Respect it, certainly. Admire it, perhaps. But I can't imagine anyone wanting to see this movie more than once.
My main problem with this film is the lack of context it provides. The plot is paper-thin, so laying on awkward animal/astrological symbolism feels almost pretentious (it's a tough call). The movie, instead of focusing on a coherent story, delves deeper into the psychological, specifically the way male and female minds understand and relate to each other. The movie seems anti-feminist, perhaps because of the way it discusses the natural evilness of mankind, and, more specifically, womankind. This is surely demonstrated in Charlotte Gainsbourg's character, and when considered on a wider scale, all evil people come from a woman, right?
Without much of a plot, and with little foundation for the characters before Her descent into grieving madness begins, it's hard to care much about the characters. That's not to say the performances aren't impressive, because they are. Both Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe handle both the grisly and the ridiculous ("CHAOS REIGNS!") very ably. Were it not for the film's incredibly controversial, hard-to-digest nature, Oscar nominations wouldn't be completely out of the question. As it is, the performances stand as one of the aspects that even turned- off audiences can admire (and audiences will definitely be turned off by this movie: three of the six people in my theater left before the film's end).
The other inarguable positive element of Antichrist is the beautiful, almost poetic cinematography. There's a great mixture of long, high-angle shots and more frenzied, hand-held close-ups as the violence intensifies. The extensive use of slow-motion (and the general slow pace of the movie) adds to the dreamy aspect of the film, and the jarring editing leads to a heightened sense of disconnect from what's happening on screen. It reflects both Her fractured psychology and the disjointed narrative itself.
The narrative is broken into three chapters with a prologue and epilogue. The prologue is unspeakably beautiful, a black-and-white juxtaposition of love (more accurately, lust) and death, accompanied by a gorgeous operatic number. The same artistic simplicity is applied to the more enigmatic epilogue. But the three chapters which make up the bulk of the movie are tacked onto states of coping with loss, and, by extension, animals represented in a fateful constellation. It's ridiculous and exciting by turns, but ultimately, the symbolism is muted by the incredible graphic-ness of what happens.
If you're at all familiar with this film, you know that there is genital mutilation in this film, and that it is shown, completely. Even knowing this going in, I was shocked and disturbed by the extent of what was shown, although honestly, it was probably the tamest it could've been, which in itself is disturbing. I felt like puking, or fainting, or leaving (as another man did right before the fateful scene, shouting "Oh, come on!"; the other two were long gone by that point), but, like the clichéd car wreck, I couldn't look away.
This is where the question of art comes into play. Can I really judge a movie that clearly is using the violence not for the simple shock factor, but for a higher (yet murky) artistic purpose, for going to such grotesque lengths? An artist should have free reign to employ whatever techniques he or she wants to maintain the integrity of his or her original vision, yes? This isn't Saw or Hostel, where the gore is the reason the movie exists. Here, the violence underlies the danger of loneliness, of fear, of nature itself.
Where does this leave me? Confused. Not only about the movie, but about if I'm glad I saw the movie. It was a singular film-going experience: no question there. But was I enlightened in any way? Even if I wasn't (and I suspect I'll have to peruse more message boards before I can come to a solid conclusion on that point), I was, at the very least, challenged, which is more than I can say about most trips to the theater.
5/10
My main problem with this film is the lack of context it provides. The plot is paper-thin, so laying on awkward animal/astrological symbolism feels almost pretentious (it's a tough call). The movie, instead of focusing on a coherent story, delves deeper into the psychological, specifically the way male and female minds understand and relate to each other. The movie seems anti-feminist, perhaps because of the way it discusses the natural evilness of mankind, and, more specifically, womankind. This is surely demonstrated in Charlotte Gainsbourg's character, and when considered on a wider scale, all evil people come from a woman, right?
Without much of a plot, and with little foundation for the characters before Her descent into grieving madness begins, it's hard to care much about the characters. That's not to say the performances aren't impressive, because they are. Both Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe handle both the grisly and the ridiculous ("CHAOS REIGNS!") very ably. Were it not for the film's incredibly controversial, hard-to-digest nature, Oscar nominations wouldn't be completely out of the question. As it is, the performances stand as one of the aspects that even turned- off audiences can admire (and audiences will definitely be turned off by this movie: three of the six people in my theater left before the film's end).
The other inarguable positive element of Antichrist is the beautiful, almost poetic cinematography. There's a great mixture of long, high-angle shots and more frenzied, hand-held close-ups as the violence intensifies. The extensive use of slow-motion (and the general slow pace of the movie) adds to the dreamy aspect of the film, and the jarring editing leads to a heightened sense of disconnect from what's happening on screen. It reflects both Her fractured psychology and the disjointed narrative itself.
The narrative is broken into three chapters with a prologue and epilogue. The prologue is unspeakably beautiful, a black-and-white juxtaposition of love (more accurately, lust) and death, accompanied by a gorgeous operatic number. The same artistic simplicity is applied to the more enigmatic epilogue. But the three chapters which make up the bulk of the movie are tacked onto states of coping with loss, and, by extension, animals represented in a fateful constellation. It's ridiculous and exciting by turns, but ultimately, the symbolism is muted by the incredible graphic-ness of what happens.
If you're at all familiar with this film, you know that there is genital mutilation in this film, and that it is shown, completely. Even knowing this going in, I was shocked and disturbed by the extent of what was shown, although honestly, it was probably the tamest it could've been, which in itself is disturbing. I felt like puking, or fainting, or leaving (as another man did right before the fateful scene, shouting "Oh, come on!"; the other two were long gone by that point), but, like the clichéd car wreck, I couldn't look away.
This is where the question of art comes into play. Can I really judge a movie that clearly is using the violence not for the simple shock factor, but for a higher (yet murky) artistic purpose, for going to such grotesque lengths? An artist should have free reign to employ whatever techniques he or she wants to maintain the integrity of his or her original vision, yes? This isn't Saw or Hostel, where the gore is the reason the movie exists. Here, the violence underlies the danger of loneliness, of fear, of nature itself.
Where does this leave me? Confused. Not only about the movie, but about if I'm glad I saw the movie. It was a singular film-going experience: no question there. But was I enlightened in any way? Even if I wasn't (and I suspect I'll have to peruse more message boards before I can come to a solid conclusion on that point), I was, at the very least, challenged, which is more than I can say about most trips to the theater.
5/10