a full fledged scribble of madness. one can hear Von Trier writing with his removed fingernail. he wants both to hold his fat finger, bleeding, up for chorus while at the same time wants to become as thin as the note scraped with the edge of his fingernail. the movie is not incoherent, and has terms. while up front with its imagery, it is not merely shock factor nor narrative lacking a denominator. many of the film’s themes are manifested physically- I’ve seen no more an honest portrayal of sex, visually, of what it does in and out of the mind. the awkward intro of each part of the film, presented on hell’s cardboard with qualifiers like ‘chaos reigns’, come off as childish, sad, and kind of narrowly beautiful. I think it odd that this film was criticized so strongly for its indictment of woman, all and or one, as it seemed to me more damning of man- that the good of one man, constant and uncompromising and selfish, may make one woman evil, even from far away. it’s a scary movie: dedicated, immature, and probably right.
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