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How entertaining? ★★★★☆
Thought provoking? ★★☆☆☆ 22 February 2014
This article is a review of NYMPHOMANIAC VOLUME 1 [long version].Seen at the Berlin International Film Festival 2014. (For more information, click here.)
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“Is there anything you want?” Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård) to Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg)
Hype, and dark expectation building for months, had the audience bristling either side in anticipation. About to watch the uncut version of VOLUME I, were we to be treated to a festival of brutal degradation? Rest assured dear reader, part one, at least, is surprisingly playful.
Opening on snowmelt tinkling off dustbin lids, roofs and assorted paraphernalia in a grungy alley, the viewer is being eased into the mind of a filmmaker who pulls few punches. Heavy metal music, Rammstein to be precise, kicks in, ramping up unease as we find the movie’s subject, Joe, lying prone on the ground, badly beaten. Her discovery is through Seligman, who takes her back to his small apartment to administer relief and a cup of tea. You see this is meant to be England, though it never feels it. The population of an undisclosed corner of the country seem made up of mostly Scandinavians and Americans. Like the entire oeuvre of Lars von Trier, we are in an alternate reality. Maybe he understands that for us to digest the work, we must be at a slight remove? Or, the plot-holes can be forgiven due to the skewed reality? Lars continually lets us steep in the uncanny valley.
Hype, and dark expectation building for months, had the audience bristling either side in anticipation. About to watch the uncut version of VOLUME I, were we to be treated to a festival of brutal degradation? Rest assured dear reader, part one, at least, is surprisingly playful.
Opening on snowmelt tinkling off dustbin lids, roofs and assorted paraphernalia in a grungy alley, the viewer is being eased into the mind of a filmmaker who pulls few punches. Heavy metal music, Rammstein to be precise, kicks in, ramping up unease as we find the movie’s subject, Joe, lying prone on the ground, badly beaten. Her discovery is through Seligman, who takes her back to his small apartment to administer relief and a cup of tea. You see this is meant to be England, though it never feels it. The population of an undisclosed corner of the country seem made up of mostly Scandinavians and Americans. Like the entire oeuvre of Lars von Trier, we are in an alternate reality. Maybe he understands that for us to digest the work, we must be at a slight remove? Or, the plot-holes can be forgiven due to the skewed reality? Lars continually lets us steep in the uncanny valley.
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Unable to sleep, Joe proceeds to recount her life to the gentle Seligman, the heart of NYMPHOMANIAC. His responses to the increasingly salacious adventures are akin to an academic fascinatedly making links across the spectrum of human understanding. Seligman’s undiscovered country is the sexual encounter. VOLUME I is concerned with Joe from two years old to her twenties. The era is unrevealed. No mobile phones. Seligman’s living room has a tape deck. There is the pill. There is no talk of any other form of contraception, or sexually transmitted diseases. NYMPHOMANIAC is extremely keen not to judge its protagonist. For all her talk of sin and guilt (though neither conversationalists are religious), Seligman continually offers a counter to assuage Joe’s purported self-disdain.
Joe uses items in the apartment as chapter headings to give shape to the experiences. Proust is even expressly mentioned. NYMPHOMANIAC wears its loquacious erudition conspicuously. It is as if Lars is trying to say this is more than just a top shelf divertissement. For all the learning, provided by Seligman’s observations on each anecdote, one is still not quite convinced there is much depth. We are not in EYES WIDE SHUT territory. So keen to avoid conservative condemnation, there is a skirting of psychological insight. And VOLUME I does not work in isolation. As Joe cries, “I can’t feel anything” at the conclusion, and the credits play snippets of VOLUME II, there is a palpable need to see the work in its entirety. Like the KILL BILL duo, their separation does not satisfy.
For my review of VOLUME II, click here.
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