News : North Devon Insight

Depression riddled Justine (Kirsten Dunst) loses her newly-wed husband, her job and possibly the last remnants of her sanity in one night at her own wedding reception. Brought back to her sister’s house in a wretched condition, Justine flits between states of eerie calm, abusive violence and sinister prophesising. Meanwhile, on a somewhat larger scale, a rogue planet named Melancholia appears from behind the sun on a fatal collision course with Earth.

Earth gets it! This isn’t a spoiler, the opening scenes of epic Wagnerian-scored planetary collision are the most spectacular in the film. This prelude to the end casts a shadow of impending mortality over the rest of the narrative, where unlikeable character after unlikeable character tests the patience of the viewer. Perhaps that is somewhat the point. Melancholia can be seen as a spiritual sister piece to The Tree of Life. But whereas Malick’s tribute to life and the stars focuses on the beauty and ultimate tragedy of nature, Von Trier’s image of the human race paints a bleak and despairing picture. Melancholia is no tragedy or lament to the end of our species, the demise itself is welcome relief to a world of utter misery.

Kirsten Dunst’s Best Actress Award at Cannes was well deserved; it’s a complex performance that circumvents the chasms of the depressive clichés, invoking a strange inverted sanity when the world itself is turned upside down. Perhaps my only complaint is the lighter touches that appear in the first hour. Nearly all of Trier’s characters are mono-dimensional, but some seem placed clumsily in for comic relief. These side-shticks draw attention away from the emotional core of the film and devalue sympathies with the central characters. The effect of this tips the film into farcical territory that, if avoided, might have made a stronger picture. Everything just seems so pointless. But then again, perhaps this is exactly the point; maybe life is pointless after all?

James Warren