A Royal Affair Reminds Us That Romance Is Indeed Dead

American poster for the film

 I seriously cannot believe it's taken me so long to watch A Royal Affair (2012) but it's been sitting quietly in my Netflix queue until the other day when I was driving up Sunset Blvd. and saw Madds Mikkelsen in a very ill-fitting pair of suede pants (yes, suede in May) walking down the street towards The Coffee Bean. I've heard pieces about it here and there, most of them good, but no one saying it's pretty damn close to a perfect movie, which it completely is. 

An affair begins in shadows. How's that for pretentious?

It is a Danish historical drama that made the rounds at some important festivals last year and even landed a nomination for Best Foreign Language Film at last years Oscars, shamefully it didn't win.

It tells the true story of a British princess betrothed to a psychotic and somewhat slow-in-the-head Danish king and is forced to relinquish all over her customs, language, and family and move to Denmark to begin a bizarre life with a bizarre man. Although The Princess Caroline Mathilde (Alicia Vikander) is unbelievably beautiful, like right out of a Botticelli painting beautiful,  the king does not enjoy 'visiting her bed chamber' if ya know what I mean, because he'd rather get wasty-pants and do it with some nasty hooker, his words...no seriously. But it's in Danish so it doesn't sound so trashy. 

The requisite naked-in-a-copper-bathtub scene, every period piece has one, it's in the rule books somewhere.

Time passes, and the king (Mikkel Følsgaard) grows more more and more despondent and insane due to what his trusted advisers believe to be 'excessive masturbation', so they audition doctors from far and wide to be the king's personal physician. Out of the few that make the rounds is a strangely attractive and mysterious small-town idealist and cheerleader for the incoming Enlightenment movement of Rousseau, Voltaire, and John Locke (and others that character names from Lost were based on) doctor named Johann Struensee (Madds Mikkelsen). It's beyond obvious that sooner or later this young impressionable now-queen and idealist doctor will begin a passionate love affair as she has a secret gateway to her bed chamber, and no that's not code for anything, that's actually in the film. I mean, he's the only one who doesn't wear powdered wigs and rouge, with those ridiculous white silk stalkings they thought looked so fly back in the 18th century. 

Madds has that rugged primal manliness...thing that you just can't put your finger on, you just know it's there, although you'd like to put your finger on it.

It's a bit obvious the queen is in need of some real man-lovin' and he's more than obliged to give it to her, but you know what? They end up falling in love, and everything falls apart as it does when love gets in the way of really steamy caressing and intercourse set to classical music. But as a historical drama it works brilliantly. It tells the actual love story and the tragedy of it, although totally inevitably, in such a passionate way that you still fall for it, and by the end of it are wiping away tears saying how you would totally give up all your worldly possessions and live in exile as she's eventually forced to if you could have a love affair like that, but you won't because it's 2013, and shit like internet dating exists. 

I swear 18th century costumes make any plot line sexier. That's also on the books.

It's brilliantly shot, and executed, and as a film is almost pitch perfect in narrative, aesthetic, and every other possible detail. Every time I see a costume that astounds me I immediately thought 'take that Sofia Coppola!' and that's always a good thing. This is a film that gets it right, and really reminds us that true love and romance did in fact exist at one point, where people sacrificed everything for it, and it's not like Grey's Anatomy at all out there, you just would have had to have lived 200 years ago, when there was no indoor plumbing. So you take the good with the bad. But seriously, watch this film. It's streaming on Netflix. I don't want any excuses.

Trailer below: 

Netflix Pick: Scandal

Kerry Washington as Olivia Pope. I really hope this causes a spike in Law School admissions this year.

So I just started watching Scandal (yeah I know, I'm like three season's late, fuck off I'm busy), and yes Kerry Washington is my newest girl crush, are  you kidding me? She's so hot I swear the temperature of my computer screen went up every time the camera focused on her (ok that's crazy-cheesy but whatever). So how would I describe this show? It's House of Cards meets The Practice with a His Girl Friday (1940) seedy underbelly to it.

If you haven't seen His Girl Friday, 1. you're a pathetic excuse for a human being, 2. Let me explain it to you. It was a seminal feminist film directed by Howard Hawkes about a newspaper in which there is a conflict of interest that is hilarious between soon to be divorced couple Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. The thing about the film, is that it is famous for the characters talking like a million times faster than usual. It was a 90 page script and made for an hour and 5 minute film. That's somewhat of the flavor that is added to the pot of the sizzle of Scandal. 

Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell engaged in a battle of wits in His Girl Friday (1940) a lot of which the latter wins.

Kerry Washington plays the feared-by-all uberbitch lawyer Olivia Pope whom everyone including the most powerful men in the world (yes, I'm talking The President) fear, and who is a 'fixer' of sorts for high profile scandals. She has an army of what each refers to as 'gladiators in suits' who do her bidding for her, and are all just as tough. They have to be or their ass is right the fuck out in the bitter DC cold. This includes freakin' Desmond from Lost (Henry Ian Cusick) and within the second episode I'm already on a learning frenzy, and no not the square root of anything, but apparently if you're visiting a prostitute code for her having it all shaved is that there are hard wood floors in her apartment, you know, important life stuff like that. Within the third episode all kinds of serious shit goes down and it's up to Olivia to fix it, and she does; with the fire and wit of a modern day Rosalind Russell and the bitch virtuosity of a hot Ruth Bader Ginsburg. 

Gladiators in suits. The bulk of Pope's law firm, with The President (Tony Goldwyn, wait, that Tony Goldwyn? yeah, that Tony Goldwyn) on the far right.

This is NOT a really good night-time soap, this is a seriously underrated show and has as much...well scandal as say something like House of Cards, and though at times self-righteous, it is not nearly as pretentious, which is why I'd rather watch it. If you read my blog you know how cantankerous I am so this should come as no shock to you (the prior) statement I mean. Granted, I've only been through the first season, but I can't wait to see what's in store coming up. 

Meet Olivia Pope...

A bit from His Girl Friday... 

Dear J.J. Abrams: Bring Back Lost!

The cast of Lost, most of them household names because of the series

I know you are circling heaven in Richard Branson's spaceship right now with your movie career but let's admit it, your crowning achievement and what they will probably engrave on your tombstone is: Here Lies J.J. Abrams, creator of Lost (2004 - 2010). Now, let's give credit where credit is due, although you were the co-creator and exec producer we all know who the two people were that made Lost basically the best thing to happen to television ever, since perhaps the Twlight Zone and Doctor Who (in the TV Sci-Fi cannon at least); Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof.

Cuse and Lindelof, the masterminds behind Lost

Save for the 6th season, Lost is a show that you seriously marathon until your mind is muddled with all kinds of questions and no answers and yet you still can't get enough, as far as human brains are concerned it's probably up to par with black tar heroin (not like I know) but everything else, Battlestar Gallactica, Fringe, and non-sci-fi shows have been more or less incomparable.

To this day, if I'm feeling down, I'll go to my Netflix queue for a good old Lost episode (from Season 3 preferably, because that's the best one in my opinion) and settle in for some seriously weird shit that I enjoy immeasurably, even though I can probably recite it as a one woman show verbatim, though that would be slightly weird. 

Promo still for the 6th season, which admittedly was extremely bad because the writers had basically written themselves into corners and realized they had to end a show quickly and had left too many doors opened.

It was the first show to have it's own Wiki page (Lostpedia), and the formula of having a cast of over 20 principal characters and more questions than answers worked like a charm. Even people resistant to the franchise got addicted after the first sweet hit of that meticulously woven web of Polar bears, four-toed statues, hatches, and hot, sweaty, and tan people stranded on a mysterious island.

Admit it, you miss it. And it's unfair that it can't go on forever just because actors wants to 'focus on their careers or whatever' I would be more than happy to cuddle up with a never-ending array of crazy and inexplicable occurrences that I would never believe can actually happen and are only appropriate in this idiom. In my opinion, at least in this genre, nothing has been as good before or since and I bloody well miss it. So, J. J., please I'm begging you, send the entire crew back to Hawaii, and resume principal photography.

This is basically how I watched Lost

Trailer for Season 1. Oh the memories.

Sleeping Beauty; A Real Snoozefest

Classy whoredom.

I finally watched the Jane Campion produced Sleeping Beauty (2011) by first time director Julia Leigh and it was rather interesting if it wasn't so goddamn boring. I've been following this film for a while because it seemed bizarre, sexual, and Jane Campion had something to do with it, but it's the same old whore story, with a really sick twist. With that indie-film flare where people spend a lot of their time just walking without anything playing in the background, just to provide 'exposition' or as i like to call it 'time filler', Sleeping Beauty began to scare me after the first few scenes, kind of like the what the hell did I just get myself into scare. And yeah it turned out to be like Eyes Wide Shut (1999) on Xanax.
Lucy (Emily Browning) is a struggling student who supplements her income by being a guinea pig for a medical school and performing messy blow jobs for drunk Aussies in putrid upscale bars. One day she answers an ad in whatever Australia's version of The Pennysaver is (highly likely) for a strange kind of prostitution gig. It's of course very classy and the meticulously to match the insatiable appetite of their older and wealthy (probably) old money perverted clientele. There are weird dinner parties where all the men enjoy wine being poured to them by girls in bondage lengerie; just basically everything I once hoped and dreamed for myself, just kidding...or am I?

Lucy gets inspected for scars and moles. Yeah, I'd be annoyed too.

But what Lucy's particularly good at is sleeping. Let me explain. She drinks a special concoction that her pimp, a very classy older woman with a ridiculous Jean Paul-Gaultier in the 80's wardrobe and hairdo makes for her which I assume has a serious amount of tranquilizer in it, and that knocks her out. Then the Kubrick influence is prevalent again because we always cut to her in a room that I swear was designed after the dying room of Dr. David Bowman in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1969). She's lying there motionless in a dreamless sleep (hopefully) As an older naked man is able to do what ever he wants with her, except no penetration. One time an angry bastard puts his cigarette out in her ear, but you know, she's a whore so kind of goes with the territory, this happens for about 40 minutes of the film repeating itself and I'm praying I fall asleep myself and a young hot gentleman comes over and does stuff to me, instead of these old hairy somewhat aggressive and somewhat Uncle Fester meets Albert Brooks kind of men, but anyway I finally finished watching and there is a twist at the end, which almost makes this movie bearable but not really.

Cuddling but no fucking. It's a golden rule.

 It's a poor Freshman effort and you're better off skipping it. It's like an Ozon movie gone wrong. If it was directed by a Frenchie it probably would have been eons better. Now if you'll excuse me I have to watch something else that has been staring at me in my queue for ages; Whore's Glory (2012), wish me luck. 

Trailer below

Dear James Franco: Stop Everything! Sincerely, The World.

A picture worth a thousand words.

I don’t even understand the appeal here. He’s not even fun to look at, he might have been in the beginning when he was on that whole matinee idol next River Pheonix skew back in the early 00’s, but then he decided to go the pretentious artist route and become a full-fledged laughable academic all at once. And I do mean laughable. He started doing two masters degrees at the same time one at NYU and one at Columbia. And if you’ve ever done 1 Masters (ahem) you know how grueling and time consuming it is, so he was basically trying to show off, and didn’t do a half decent job of it. My cohorts and I would see him around Dodge Hall (School of the Arts in Columbia University, what what!) droning around staring at his blackberry and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth like he was the reincarnation of James Dean, too cool for school; as it turns out he was just too stupid for it. And when he got into Yale, and I didn’t for a PhD program, I had realized people had seriously lost their effing minds...not that I deserved to get into Yale, but he sure didn't! I mean seriouslaaaay. 

Finally realizing that he’s a total joke in academic circles, he decided to go the pretentious artist route and scathed by with a whole series of garbage films, both acting and directing them, the newest of which, a bastardization of the William Faulkner novel ‘As I Lay Dying’ which is unbelievably going to open in Un Certain Regard at Cannes this year, and putting in a piss poor performance in perhaps one of the most interesting films of the year; Harmony Korine’s Springbreakers (2012), James Franco should get a universal 'F' for failing in life. 

Pretentious ass. Franco in a still from his new film in which he stars and directs (of course) As I Lay Dying (2013)

He once said the reason he’s so ‘productive’ or as I like to call it scattered in a clusterfuck is because his mind is so active, which I translate into ‘I’m on Adderall all the time’ which is basically what it seems like. I remember in 2008, he took over for Gus Van Sant’s absence when we screened Milk (2008) at Columbia for the film program and a subtle sighs of ‘awwwww’s’ echoed through the audience. He seemed totally stoned (of course) and couldn’t tell us anything interesting. Not about the film, not about his career, not about anything in particular because he was so mentally befuddled, like words were confusing him and hitting him at the face and grabbing at his brain. 

Franco in Milk (2008) probably the only good thing he's ever done.

And now it’s just getting ridiculous, you are not a renaissance man, James Franco, you will never be the next Kerouac, Orson Welles, or Dostoevsky, stick to what you know how to do best; rolling fatties and making teenage girls squirm in their panties. Just stop, for the love of god, stop everything. Now. Much love, Vera.

Golden Palmes and Perverts (Cannes 2013)

Last year I wrote about Cannes, I called it Who Will Win the Palme d'Fuck at Cannes this Year? And I thought the prize would be between two of the most non-sexy films in competition that year, Cosmopolis (2012) and On the Road (2012) both featuring Twilight darlings; Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart. Let’s do this again shall we? With more insight, but aside from the actual awards that mean something, to the French anyway, let’s talk about who’s got the sexiest film at the sexiest film festival this side of an unapologetically obsessed-with-sex country.

Still from Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

Now listen because I’m only going to say this once; BAZ LUHRMANN DOES NOT MAKE SEXY FILMS. For the love of god, if anyone made anything more unsexy he would have cast real life cousins in it. For all of the smoke and mirrors he employs to try to tell stories of love and yearning, lust and tits, I feel nothing below the waste watching his glitzy shitshows. And The Great Gatsby is already feeling like the biggest bastardization of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but above all completely unsexy and unsatisfying. Like that one bad one-night-stand that your friends still don’t let you get over. 

Promo still from Gatsby (vulgar, NOT sexy)

Although I’m excited for films like Soderbergh’s Behind the Candelabra (2013), Alexander Payne’s Nebraska (2013) and Polanski’s LA VÉNUS À LA FOURRURE (2013), I think the two films that will battle it out are going to be sensualist extraordinaire François Ozon’s Jeune et Jolie (2013), and Ethan and Joel Coen’s ode to folk music; Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) starring foreign hotter-than-hot tall, dark, and handsome man slice of heaven Oscar Isaac, co-starring perhaps the most interesting bright young things right now; Justin Timberlake, Garrett Hedlund, and Carey Mulligan. The film also looks pretty dang interesting and wildly sexual considering it takes place during the Beat era where basically anything goes. 

Ozon. Handsome to boot.

But I’m going to give the edge to Ozon.  Not only because he’s a personal favorite of mine, but his films are so incredibly sensual, so detailed in their steaminess, it’s hard to beat when we’re thinking about contemporary sex culture. Also, he’s fucking French. So basically, there ya go.

Still from Juene et Jolie (2013)

 I feel like I’m watching the best high-class porn every time I turn on an Ozon film, because he understands very importantly I might add, that what is NOT SHOWN is more enticing than WHAT IS. This is what make his films such a hallmark of sexuality in cinema, so I’m going to say that though Juene at Jolie (2013) probably won’t win the Palme d’Or, It wins the Palme d’Fuck in my book.

Trailer for Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

French teaser for Juene et Jolie (2013) 

Trailer for another new Ozon film In the House (2013)

Going 'Up' Again

A picture of an era.

I don’t know how serious or how filthy this blog is going to be or if I’m going to make it pure filth but bear with me. I just feel like talking about one of my favorite events in film. Events I call it because it is a series of British films started in 1964 following a group of children from age 7 to the age they are now. By 2012, they are 56, and the BBC just released the new installment of the Up Series; 56 Up (2012).

There were a few that bowed out but most stuck with it, so to make it superficial let’s go down the list really quick (because there’s quite a few of them featured) and define them based on their sexual prowess or lack thereof…they are British after all.

The program usually starts with Tony, an East-Ender with a cockney accent who married young, cheated on his wife by 42 Up and works as a London cabbie because he couldn’t make it as a jockey (his childhood dream). Aside from the fact that he’s rather vulgar, he’s about 5’2. So I never found him particularly attractive in any way. Also, by 56 Up we realize he’s somewhat of a racist so if that’s not a red flag I don’t know what is. 

Tony (the troublemaker, at 21)

Then there’s a trifecta of girls that went to I guess what we call ‘normal’ school, where University plans were not in the future, and lower middle class was as good as it got. Sue, Lynn, and Jackie, Jackie by far being the most obnoxious and fugly out of all of them, now left with three children to raise on her own, and not much else. I honestly never liked her because it seemed all she ever wanted to do was argue with the filmmakers. Sue got married because according to her she wanted to have a child and the two went hand in hand. She’s the most well adjusted out of all of them and works now as some kind of administrator living with her much younger coulda-been-in-Trainspotting looking boyfriend and West Highland terrier. I like her. Moving on. Lynn always wanted to help children and was adorbs up until about 21 Up, when she was already married (dang they marry early over there) but there’s not much to say about her except that she’s pretty awesome because her life mission has been to educate disadvantaged youths. 

(L to R) Jackie, Lynn, and Sue at 56 holding up pictures of themselves from the previous films.

There was another trifecta of boys who went to a preparatory boarding school, John, Andrew, and Charles, the latter of which dropped out after 28 Up. They were all from the very upper crust of England, carried themselves as if they just walked off the Downton Abbey set and all talked like Rex Harrison. John and Andrew basically remind me of how Seth MacFarlane views British people; with hideous teeth and a roguish pompous way about them. They both became solicitors (go figure) and I only imagine they have sex with all of their clothes on and the lights off, even then, I’d rather not imagine it. 

L to R - John, Andrew, and Charles talking about which Universities they will attend and what newspapers they read at 7. No seriously.

Another one worth mentioning is Suzy, she came from a privaledged background as well with a house in the country, and a totally I’m-better-than-you tude until she got married and got way domestic. She’s a Helen Mirren type, get’s better with age.

Then there’s the one that moved to America to be a scientist and now is married to some kind of human/giraffe hybrid. He was by far the best looking and most appealing out of all of them (dorky scientist thing aside) Nicholas, who grew up literally with no one around him in the Yorkshire Dales. He was hot, moving on. 

Nicholas at 49, visits the Dales again.

The last one I’m going to mention is Neil, because he’s the most interesting I can think of. He’s Cray Cray with a capital C and spent most of his life homeless even though he started out as like the cutest 7 year old later. He talks fast, has huge bags under his eyes and at times makes no sense whatsoever. He admitted in 49 Up that he hopes not to have children in his lifetime because he doesn’t want them to inherit his crazy. Probably a good move on his part. I have to admit probably in my early 20’s I’d be all over that, you know, oh poor troubled skinny British boy, I’ll mother you kind of thing, but now I’m like stay away for the love of god, I carry mace. 

Neil...what happened?

There are other children, but those are the ones that stand out to me. I’ve watched all of the films of course, a few more than once, and as Roger Ebert said the series is ‘Brilliant. It’s on my top ten films of all times list’. It’s definitely on mine. What all of it on Netflix, take a weekend and get all existential why don’t ya. You won’t regret it, believe me. 

The whole gang gathers around for a photo op at 21.

 Here's some clips and trailers. 

Cosmopolis: A Study in Existentialism, Capitalism, and Asymmetrical Prostates

A limo ride  to nowhere.

If you read Don DeLillo in your formative years chances are you were a bit fucked up in the head, but that yielded only the urge to understand the hypocrisy of the world to a better degree…you probably read a lot of Bret Easton Ellis along with that. Now, if you watched Cronenberg growing up, congratulations you’re probably smarter than 95% percent of the world’s population, and moreover if you actually understand all of his films on body-horror, pan-existentialist levels, then you’re a fucking genius.

A few of his newest films have been rather polarizing. A Dangerous Method (2011) was schmaltzy crap the whole way through. And Cosmopolis (2012) got all kinds of black and white reviews, it’s the kind of film Armand White loves to write about. The kind of film that gets a mixed reaction at Cannes, and Rotten Tomatoes has a meltdown over because film critics turn into 5 year olds; All having something to say each at a louder more obnoxious volume than the other. 

Sarah Gadon plays the wife of Billionaire playboy Eric (Robert Pattinson) who promises that one day they will indeed have sex, but never delivers. Probably a smart move on her part.

I had heard a shit ton of bad press about this film, but it was mostly from people that didn’t ‘get it’ and were faux film critics to begin with in the tradition of Ben Lyons who just tear it to shreds because they don’t understand allegory and post-capitalist theory and still manage to make 6-figure salaries (Fuck Ben Lyons is basically what I’m saying) he’s probably never watched anything of Cronenberg’s past Dead Ringers (1988)). 

A prostate exam during a meeting with his financial advisor yeilds the metaphor that Eric has an asymmetrical prostate, take it for whatever you think it might mean.

This is a film that combines sexual frustration and depression of fear of being-in-the-world, particularly of being powerful, both sexually and otherwise, and the inner struggle that exists in the responsibility which that power comes with. Also, the boredom that comes from knowing that everything is too easily accessible weather it be billions of dollars or seriously hot French tail. It is a Jean-Paul Sartre manifesto on film, and no one better to understand that and make it erotic than David Cronenberg. I thought the film was fantastic, and thought most didn’t and it barely got distributed, it finally landed on Netflix, so good for it, a bunch of teenagers can now be either confused as fuck or take up reading DeLillo and start speaking with a French accent.  Either way, it’s one of Cronenberg’s more complex and erotic films, which is exactly how he initially made his name in the business, mixed with some political pathos, it makes for one hell of a mindfuck. 

Grab an Old Fashioned, Old Don is Back!

Drinking buddies for life.

I don’t know about you but I found the premiere of Season 6 of one of the most dynamic and incendiary shows on TV right now to be somewhat of a snoozefest. It was all about showing us symbolically (and sometimes outright) how people had changed in the time’s passing. It’s almost 1970, and the men have grown ridiculous beards, including Pete Campbell’s new mutton chops (I mean what the fuck was that).

The most interesting transformation was that of Peggy who now seems more masculine in her new gig, as if she’s becoming the new Don Draper, she has people coming to her for advice, orders others around, hair cut more prim and proper and in total control of her emotions. Cool as a cucumber, and androgynous as fuck.

Party like it's 1969. Drop your keys in the bowl on your way in.

This was needed because guess who’s back? The OLD Don Draper. We find him wasted at Roger’s mother’s funeral and throwing up which was hilarious, and then by the end of the finally he’s got Lindsay Weir of all people (Linda Cardellini) lying on top of him. Basically, Old Don is back. There’s no longer the soul-searching, happily married, fatherly, sober, boring Don. Now the womanizer, the chain smoker, the boozer Don is back, and I couldn’t be happier. Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce was getting to be a bit drab, but now with Old Don, and Joan as silent partner (yet not so silent) I have faith that even without Layne (rest in piece on a rope), they will continue to thrive, mutton chops and all.

Trouble looming on the perfect marriage? Most definitely

The question remains is how are they going to deal with the sexual revolution impending on everyone’s heads now that the 70’s are looming and they’ve already taken acid trips and tried to see the Rolling Stones in the flesh. The only thing left is wife swapping, so getting with the times, I suppose Don is going to partake, while Roger gets involved in a really gross 70’s orgy, the kind you see in the worst of John Holmes movies, but those are questions waiting to be answered, and I for one can’t wait. Hopefully this premiere episode wasn’t an indication because I’m sick of all of the existential self-aggrandizement that Don experience mmmmmmm…every single fucking episode. I want the old Don back, and I’m glad they’ve answered my prayers.

Another Von Trier Sex Film? Um...I Guess.

Still from Nymphomaniac (2013)

Gratuitous and relentless painful sex is as likely to appear in a Lars Von Trier film as much as bare-knuckle boxing matches are likely to appear in a Guy Ritchie film, so brace yourself children for Nymphomaniac (2013).

Starring Charlotte Gainsbourg (who’s been in the two prior Von Trier films; Melancholia (2013) and AntiChrist (2009)) a dying self-proclaimed nympho retells of all his sexual experiences to anyone who would listen, but for the love of god why would they? I mean if Von Trier is involved I imagine every story has something to do with just a lot of blood and tears. Has sex in any Von Trier film ever been enjoyable or arousing to watch? It’s been torture, and not in the good way, but I think that is a creation of Von Trier unto itself. The displeasure of sex.

Hate to say it but it sounds very Breaking the Waves (1996) don’t it? Remember his first English language film? The one that was actually good and not polarizing? The one that was not art for art’s sake? The one before he made the incendiary statement that he sympathizes with Hitler?

Innocent small-town girl Emily Watson plays against Skarsgård (a man who's appetite for sex knows no bounds) and eventually leads to her demise.

Anyway, Breaking the Waves (1996) was a beautiful film starring Emily Watson and Stellan Skarsgård, who is in this one too apparently. It involves some kind of rig worker (Skarsgård,) who gets injured on a barge (or something I can’t remember) and becomes paralyzed form the neck down. He then forces his wife Watson using survivor’s guilt on her sorry ass to have sexual encounters with other men and then tell him all about it so that he can thereby vicariously experience them himself because his peen is more or less in the vault at that point.

So basically, this is not a film about sex, it’s a film about the stories we tell each other about all the sex we’ve had or hope to have, so kind of like a Danish existential bizarre-as-shit slumber party. I for one still haven’t forgiven Von Trier for his completely irresponsible comments at Cannes, but again looking at it from a filmmaking perspective, I have a love-hate relationship with him. His earlier Danish films don’t interest me much, and I never liked them. Then, he had a winning streak with Breaking the Waves (1996), Dancer in the Dark (2000), and Dogville (2003) (which he appropriately titled his ‘Death trilogy’) how Ingmar Bergman of you, Trier. But Antichrist (2009) is a film I flat out blocked out of my brain it was so profoundly idiotic. And Manderlay (2005)…let’s be honest, no one gave a shit about, or watched as far as I remember. 

Von Trier on the set of Melancholia (2011) with co-stars Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg

Melancholia (2011) on the other hand was a revelation, it took me a couple of times (and a couple of friends, you know your names) to finally convince me that this was a great work of art, so based on his history, I’m going to say that I have faith in the project, but am expecting a widely mixed if not totally polarizing reaction from every festival it travels to this year (except Cannes considering he’s a persona non grata there and we all know why), but that’s exactly what he wants. No publicity is bad publicity is it Trier? Unless of course you’re defending Hitler. 

 Below some trailers.