Mal took on Lars von Trier to pretend to joke that he was sympathetic to Hitler shortly after the screening of Melancholia, in the hours that followed, it was deemed persona non grata at Cannes. Worse, not only have we talked more about her than his film Melancholia but had to settle for the Best Actress Award, given to Kirsten Dunst for her playing Bride sensitive and melancholic depression.
Depression and melancholy, Lars von Trier knows. So, after exploring the deep distress with power of a mother in mourning Antichrist, he's showing with equal strength of a woman yet pampered. As with most qu'esthétisant prologue to Antichrist, von Trier explains his virtuosity with a bang, this time into a series of paintings inspired Symbolist a disturbing and strikingly beautiful when he sums up the drama to come: the end of the world , no less.
The filmmaker then takes us into a magnificent castle, the scene of a lavish wedding, which will be punctuated by the aberrations of Justine (Dunst). Filmed nervously with a handheld camera specific cause dizziness, recalling at times the Thomas Vinterberg's Festen, the first part focusing on Claire provides moments of humor squeaky.
Thus, to the chagrin of the wedding planner (Udo Kier, fun) and the poor groom (Alexander Skarsgård, deleted), the father and the mother of the bride (John Hurt and Charlotte Rampling, mordants) settle their accounts, while the employer (Stellan Skarsgård, fierce) thereof the press of a slogan for a major advertising campaign. Faced with such a display of selfishness, confusion Justine is more than palpable.
In the second part, more intimate and contemplative, turning around Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg, nuanced), sister of Justine and wife of millionaire John (Kiefer Sutherland, fat at will), von Trier pushes his characters into a corner by condemning them to an inevitable death. As the world approaches the Melancholia Earth and Wagner's music resonates in every fiber of our body, the masks come off, the real characters are revealed and emotion reached its climax. Thus, with splendor, von Trier takes us back to face our frailty and our insignificance in this world.
