Super Frat

There are several things that I would warn the world about if I had the power to do so: the coming of the next Black Plague, the rise of evil sentient machines in the not-too-distant future and the movie, Melancholia.  It’s rare that I watch a movie and say “What the fuck?” as an internal monologue over and over again.  The film is 135 minutes of agonizing, pretentiousness that is so epically arrogant, one wonders what the actors must’ve been saying to themselves while they were shooting this arthouse shit explosion.

The basic premise is actually pretty cool.  A woman, Kirsten Dunst, is having her wedding, but a newly discovered planet is going to hit the Earth and wipe out all life as we know it.  Dunst plays a hopelessly depressed bride, who when faced with humanity’s extinction is still kind of a bitch, but pulls it together while the rest of her family falls apart.  Unfortunately, my summary is way more coherent than the execution.

For starters, director Lars Von Trier treats viewers to an opening of slow motion imagery that lasts for minutes that seem like hours.  Then, we’re launching into the wedding where the actors were seemingly left to try an improv their way out of the movie.  Kiefer Sutherland is the brother-in-law who spends a fortune on the wedding and seems to be one of the few people trying to act.  John Hurt plays the bride’s dad, does his scatteredbrain Englishman bit and gets lost quick.  Alexander Skarsgard (Eric from True Blood) is the confused groom.

Shifts in mood, scenes that go nowhere, random dialogue and a mish-mash of slow motion imagery makes up most of the movie.  Not even Kirsten’s naked boobies can help.  You’re left wondering, “What is wrong with these people?”  and then “What is wrong with these people who made the movie?”   There’s actually a scene where Kirsten pisses in the middle of a golf course for no reason.  Was that a metaphor for the director pissing on his audience with this cinematic golden shower?  Never before will an audience cheer so satisfactorily as when all life is finally extinguished and the movie ends.

If you want to know the brain behind this movie, take a look at this strange Q&A Von Trier did at Cannes.  At least you won’t be watching the movie.

I give Melancholia (Seriously?  You name the planet that’s going to hit the Earth, Melancholia and it’s about depressing fucking people?  Seriously?) 1 out of 10 keggers.  You’ve been warned, bros.