It opens with slowest-mo you've ever seen, set to classical music (the internet informs me it's Tristan and Isolde by Wagner). Just all sorts of wacky next-level shit going on. Things that beg such questions as "why is that horse sitting down?", "boy, that's a lot of butterflies, innit?", "should a golf course be that squishy?" and "why is Kirsten Dunst wearing clothing?" as well as, "when did she become a Sith Lord?"
|Oh, like you're so magic, Kirsten Dunst.|
It's since occurred to me that it was only done that slowly because they were trying to make each vignette feel like a painting. God damn that's fancy, and not at all funny. Work with me here, movie. You just made me use the word vignette on my blog.
|Fine. Be that way.|
Although, a film about the tense relationship between two sisters while an enormous planet hurtles through space on a collision course toward Earth is hardly where you'd go to get all chucklehouse. Unless you're not only desperately bored, but also probably confused into thinking it's a science fiction-y space romp. If such a thing exists.
(I googled it. Nope.)
Melancholia is separated into two parts - each part focusing on one of the sisters. The first part is devoted to Justine (Kirsten Dunst), the second to her sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg).
Part one centers around the wedding reception for Justine and Micheal (Alexander Skarsgård). I'd love to speak in detail about the absurdity, discomfort and "oh no she didn't!" that resides within, but I don't want to ruin it for you. Suffice it to say that it was absurd, uncomfortable and oh hell yeah, she utterly did. All of those things. Also, Claire's filthy rich husband, John (Kiefer Sutherland) is privileged buttface who owns a golf course with 18 holes and don't you dare forget it.
|O rly, Kiefer?|
Claire's part of the story answers the question as to whether or not these rich people know that a large planet is headed their way, aiming to greet their upturned faces with a mighty smack. They do - they just think it'll pass right by, no big whoop. Probably slipped that planet a hundo.
|Should have tried at least twenty large.|
Let's just stop for a moment right here and talk about the "science" in this movie. If you have even a general interest in science or astronomy, paired with consciousness, you are going to have to suspend your disbelief so hard, it'll likely bruise you. Lars von Trier doesn't just take artistic license, he takes it from behind and he did not buy it dinner.
|Kiefer, darling. It's okay to take a casual apocalypse is a-coming day.|
Although, immediately after, I really just wanted to kill myself. Or hug a puppy. And a box of kittens. While feeding sticky rice balls to a slow loris.
To sum up, this is the first time I watched a movie with Kirsten Dunst and didn't spend every moment she was on screen thinking, "God, I fucking hate you, Kirsten Dunst. Put your goddamned pants on and stop jumping around like brainless twit. You and your damned adorably crooked teeth. Eat a bug, I mean it."
|Anybody want a peanut?|