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| Tuesday, April 26, 2005 10:02 PM |
| ...and sometimes it means killing a whole lot of people |
 by Fëanor |
I just finally finished watching Dogville. It is, I have decided, a fantastically excellent film, and one of the most brave and brutal and rich that I have seen in quite a while. It is also, however, not for everyone, as it clocks in at over three hours and contains multiple rape scenes, sexual perversion, slavery, mental and physical abuse, torture, and slaughter. I fear also that its politics and, indeed, its very morality may be in question; many critics accused it of being not only anti-American, but anti-human. But whatever message you may take from it, Dogville is undeniably technically brilliant and absolutely lush with ideas, style, and originality. It has been constructed and executed masterfully, thanks to the brutal genius of its director (the Danish madman, Lars von Trier) and the amazing talent of its incredible cast of actors, which includes Nicole Kidman, Lauren Bacall, Paul Bettany, James Caan, Ben Gazzara, Philip Baker Hall, Udo Kier (of course), Chloe Sevigny, Stellan Skarsgard, and John Hurt (whose rye wry voice provides the slightly bemused narration that helps to add a comforting distance between us and the horrifying events of the film, and yet at the same time also helps to add another level of horror to those events).
Dogville takes a long, unflinching, scalding look at a group of mean, dirty human beings in a mean, dirty little town. The film is done in a raw, bare style similar to that of a stage play (though with the dynamism and magic of film), on a small set without walls or doors, the buildings drawn on the floor in chalk. The plot at first seems to be one familiar from Hollywood films--the old fish-out-of-water story. A city girl--named Grace, no less--on the run from a dark past (but with a heart of gold, of course) stumbles upon a very small town of poor mountain folk and pleads for their help. One young idealistic philosopher named Tom (Bettany) helps hide her from the gangsters that are looking for her and convinces the rest of the town to give her two weeks to prove herself worthy of their help and protection. He does this seemingly less out of a desire to help her and more out of a desire to demonstrate his various philosophical theories.
The town is cold to Grace at first, but slowly finds ways to take advantage of her, and eventually even comes to depend upon her. When the two weeks are up, and it comes time to vote on whether she should go or stay, it's clear what will happen.
And here's where the Hollywood film would be nearing its conclusion. There would be an exciting climax, of course, where the gangsters showed up again and the town would have to band together to protect Grace from them, and someone--no doubt Chuck (Skarsgard), the gruff fellow who seemed to dislike her the most--would have to stand up and take some deliberate and dangerous act to save her at some critical moment. Then the movie would end and Grace would live happily ever after with the mean, dirty folks of Dogville, who turned out to have kind hearts after all.
But of course, this is no Hollywood film. This is a film by Lars von Trier, he of the unyielding cinematic principles and the searching desire to flay the human spirit and see it writhe, naked and exposed, under the lens of his camera. At this point in the story, Dogville has only just begun. (Many spoilers ahead, but really I don't think knowing what happens in the film will make it any less effective.)
The people of Dogville never forget that Grace is there because they have allowed her to be there, and they never let her forget, either. She becomes their slave, their plaything, a subject to their every whim, the scapegoat for all their rage and lust and illicit desires. She is betrayed by each of them in pretty much every way imaginable. The people of Dogville prove themselves to be not even as good as dogs--not even as worthy to live as the one actual dog in the town. It, at least, has an excuse--it's just a dog, an animal. They have none.
The film doesn't even let up during the credit sequence, as von Trier plays David Bowie's "Young Americans" in the background while a series of photos of the homeless, the destitute, the poor, the mean, the beaten, and the forgotten flickers by.
But what does this mean? Is von Trier judging America? Is he judging the human race? Are the people of Dogville the people of America? Is von Trier calling for our execution?
I found myself reveling in Grace's final, terrible vengeance on the town, frightened almost of my own bloodlust--but are we meant to find her vengeance too harsh; to find her wanting, too?
I don't think so. At first I thought Tom would be the voice of the film, as his desire to teach people important ideas through brutally honest artistic expression is clearly also von Trier's desire. But Tom ultimately reveals himself to be weak and naive and a hypocrite, not strong enough for his own ideas. I think the man we are meant to ultimately agree with the most is in fact Grace's father (Caan), the boss of the gangsters. He finds Grace's constant forgiveness of the dogs of humanity to be arrogant. How can a dog learn anything if you constantly forgive him for his mistakes? Would you forgive these mistakes in yourself? Grace let the people of Dogville have their way, forgave them every trespass, and they only got worse and worse, until they were willing to do any terrible thing without remorse or conscience.
So what is von Trier's ultimate message--that Americans are scum; that people in general are scum; that they need to be beaten every once in a while if they stray out of line, or even killed if they stray too far?
No, I don't think so. There seems to me to be a lot more complex ideas than those floating around here. It is a movie about the meanest parts of humanity, and how forgiving or overlooking those mean things can cause them to fester and grow. It is about lies and betrayal and violence and the dark pits of the soul. So obviously it's not going to be a barrel of laughs. After I'd watched about half of it, I had to leave to go have dinner, and I found myself feeling dazed and beaten. But von Trier didn't make a film like this just to torture us (although that's certainly one of the reasons). He made a film as dark as this because he's true to his material.
But even if that is von Trier's ultimate message--even if this movie is basically a hate letter to America, and thus to me--I still say it is a great and an amazing film, and worth seeing. |
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