There are no guns in Lars von Trier’s Melancholia. There are no tanks, or nuclear bombs – just humans, and their immaterial battle for life. It seems befitting that a film exploring isolation, internal darkness and the weighted feeling of not belonging in the world would be bracketed within a story about the end of it. A disaster film that takes mental illness head on? Or a film about mental illness set under the pretence of imminent disaster? I’ll stand by either contention, especially when the film in question is Melancholia, crafted by the controversial director Lars von Trier. Preceded by his 2009 film Antichrist, Melancholia is his second unofficial entry into what could likely become his trilogy of “Grief, Pain, and Despair”. Stemming from the director’s own battle with a deep depression Antichrist and Melancholia share a lifeline that seeks to excavate the profound, the difficult, and the complexities of human suffering as related to psychosis.
As similarly executed in Antichrist, the prelude to Melancholia is bathed in cinematic eloquence, forming the summation of the events about to transpire as well as the link to the subconscious of the film. Comprising the first 8 minutes, each sequence presents slow motion images of agony, beauty, and symmetry, all contained within a suffocating stillness. Lush and luxurious greens are juxtaposed against what resembles a world without oxygen. Extended over the soundtrack to Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde III, this is Lars von Trier at his best.
Countering the baroque introduction is the banality of the first scene where we meet the main character Justine (Kirsten Dunst) who is stuck in a limo on the way to her wedding reception. It is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, at least, that is what everyone around her wants it to be. Set against the macro destruction of the world at the hand of blue planet Melancholia, the micro struggle of Justine occupies the first half of the film building the case for von Trier as a sensitive filmmaker intent on justifying emotional disorder. As Justine trudges through her wedding night, much to the chagrin of her whole family, her polarity between delicious highs and devastating lows sheds a realistic light on a woman coming undone. Shot predominantly in a handheld style, von Trier embodies in Justine the emotional, physical and social facets of self-destruction. Justine’s sorrow is inferred through everyone else’s insensitivity towards it. Her sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsburg) is her only support.
Melancholia’s duality comes into effect in part two: Claire’s half of the film. The disintegration of Justine’s mind is halted and the power struggle shifts as catastrophe draws near. She grows stronger and Claire tumbles into a frantic state. Where the former has faced death, the latter is only just meeting it. Gainsbourg, who was the tour de force in Antichrist, brings an innocence to Claire as the helpless and naïve caregiver who seeks a “nice” ending to the planet’s explosion. Awarded the Best Actress prize at Cannes, Dunst’s performance here as the transformative weak and dependant patient to authoritative and almighty savant is a testament to the film’s power. The path of destruction for all of human kind is Justine’s saving grace, as von Trier uses the approaching Melancholia to repair her fractured state.
Von Trier who was accused of misogynist filmmaking with Antichrist, has done the contrary here. In Melancholia it is the female characters that demonstrate courage and emotional strength in the face of adversity. And when that adversity is the end of the world, I can only trust that he believes we can handle it.
After my grandmother died, I went through a phase where I needed to devour all vintage photographs of my family. From weddings in 1938 to gaudy Christmases in 1965, each found in an old trunk or stuffed into a shoebox was treated as treasure and as evidence. I needed them as proof of an existence that predated my life. “This is what my family looked like” was often what would come to mind when I would peruse through my growing collection. I heard similar words and witnessed familiar images in Mike Mills latest film Beginners (2010), which echoes the need to understand how linage in relation to its place in history can shape your personality and life course.
Exploring sexuality, mortality, and decision, Beginners tells the story of the Fields family through the consciousness of Oliver, played by Ewan McGregor. We first see Oliver as he completes the daunting task of rifling through papers, flushing meds, and packing boxes, searching for a decent way to preserve or destroy each of his father’s possessions after his death. Except for a scruffy Jack Russell named Arthur, Oliver is now the sole survivor of his small family. He is essentially alone. Whether ignited by loneliness or through the onset of a delicate relationship with French actress Anna (Mélaine Laurent), Oliver’s introspection begins.
Non-linear in composition and adorably quirky, the film lapses back and forth between memory and reality using illustration and photographic montage to underline the narrative in its most genuine skin. Visual documentation, such as family photographs and kitschy 1950s adverts provide emphasis for the historical reference needed to understand how Oliver relates to the world. Mills implements narration as the guiding tool through the critical points of Oliver’s upbringing–and the events preceding his father’s death. As Oliver’s self examination begins, so does the retrospective of his father Hal, played with great charm by Christopher Plummer. Inspired by the story of Mills’ own father, Hal uses the death of his wife of 44 years to wipe the slate clean. Dressed in pajamas or a purple v-neck (Oliver can’t recall), Hal announces to his son that he is gay and is anxious to discover “what’s out there.” Oliver becomes witness to his transformation, as Hal discovers house music, becomes an activist in the community, and consumes every bit of his new lifestyle with a joyous fervor. Tangentially, father and son experience a closeness neither of them has known as Hal contributes perspective on Oliver’s failed attempts at love. My only criticism would be in describing the latter half of Anna and Oliver’s relationship. I felt Mills’ succumb to a ‘boy meets girl’ romantic formula too easily. With a script so earnest in exposing sacrifice, how decisions affect our life, and how bonds can be formed or broken, I would have appreciated the same authenticity with Anna and Oliver for the full duration of the film, yet felt it was solely maintained in the father and son interactions.
In a feeble, yet romantic attempt at a first date, Oliver and Anna, get into his car with no destination. “You point, I’ll drive,” he says to her. As the film progresses we learn that these words and much of Oliver’s nature stems from time spent with his mother. It is subtle, but a prime example of how Mills’ convincing script is powerful in its ability to capture the essence of what we unconsciously absorb from our loved ones.
For probably most of my life I’ve wondered what it would be like to have mutant powers. My intense imagination allowed me to imagine myself flying over buildings while I was sitting in the car, or throwing around objects simply by thinking about them. These days there are a lot of movies about such things, but most of them tend to fall short on the reality of situations like that, for example, dressing up in leather outfits and stopping the cuban missile crisis. That’s where the new film Chronicle comes in.
What I gathered from the trailer, the film is about three college bros who discover a mysterious something and gain special powers from it, one of which ends up turning bad. Watching the parts where they start using their powers though is awesome, and the idea that it’s like a muscle, the more you use it the stronger you are, is a great idea. They don’t really touch on concepts like that in the comic books, so it’s a fun detail. Hopefully it turns out as good as this trailer makes it look.
Earlier today I tweeted out to see if anyone had done any sort of interesting illustrations about the movie Drive, as I wanted an interesting image for the track I’m about to share with you. Unexpectedly, I received a ton of amazing illustrations and designs from all kinds of folks, so I thought I’d post share them with you all.
First things first, the song I was talking about.
The smarty music guy Harrison Mills, aka Catacombkid, sent me this track he made which is inspired by Drive, and I thought it was really great. It definitely feels like the vibe of the movie, electronic in nature with a bit of that 80′s vibe persisting through it. I could totally see myself driving late at night to this track, it’s a gem.
Now for the awesome art.
At the top of this post is a great poster designed by James White, aka Signal Noise, who did an amazing job. The colors, the mood, the lighting, the type – it all fits so perfectly. I especially love the light pouring out of his eye, reminiscent of when your eyes water when you’re going fast and headlights streaking in the night.
After that is Mr. Hipp’s album cover he created for the soundtrack. As with everyone else I know, the soundtrack is a big hit, so it totally makes sense why he’d create an homage. Love the colors and bold lines.
Here we have Jonny Negron’s fanart after he saw the film. I love the way he rendered the jacket, the details are really fantastic. This makes me want to read a manga series around Driver with Jonny drawing the whole thing, don’t you think that would be rad?
Then we have the cover to the newest issue of Little White Lies, which is actually dedicated to Drive. It was created by Michael Gillette, who does a perfect job of rendering Mr. Gosling. Love the color palette as well.
This one is a nice piece done by New York based illustrator Louie Chin. I feel like Louie would do an amazing job coming up with character designs for an animated Drive series. I absolutely love his line work, it’s slightly messy and gritty, totally has the feeling of Drive all over it. Plus looks at Ryan Gosling’s face! He’s got the look of a calculated killing machine down pat.
There is a defining moment in Drive, when Ryan Gosling stops smiling. The subtle change from soft-hearted mechanic to vigilante protector and maker-of-all-things-right creeps in and marks the point of decent into violence for this leading character, whose only motivation is to protect the woman and child he loves, but hardly knows.
Based on the novel by James Sallis and directed by Nicolas Winding Refn, the opening teaser of Drive could play as a short film in itself. Here, Gosling’s character “Driver” is introduced as a lone wolf, contracted to drive get-away cars for L.A underworld heists. “Driver” is dangerously serious, smooth, and in total control for the 5 minutes that he is employed in the racket. Any time either side of that, he declares independence and lives a simple withdrawn life as a stunt car driver for Hollywood films. That is until he meets “Irene”, his point of obsession played exceptionally by the great Carey Mulligan. The genuine interplay between “Driver” and “Irene” would otherwise be misplaced in an action film. They hardly converse, preferring to hold each other’s gaze and smile bashfully until they come to the reality of the awkward moment. The distinction here is Refn’s choice to opt out of the conventional shot sequence between these two characters, and employ a type of long take, letting the camera linger on their interactions to the breaking point. These soft moments, create the backbone of the film and are pivotal in grounding Gosling’s character as a human before he transcends into monster-vigilante hero.
At the very minimum Drive is about car chases. Refn, whose previous films include Valhalla Rising (2009) and Bronson (2009), favors the exchange of visual language over dialogue, in what is Drive’s 86 page script. At its fruition, the film relies heavily on the core performance of its small cast, and succeeds in producing a cohesive work of art from a pastiche of genres. Borrowing style and pacing from film noir, and using the framework of a classic one last heist story, what emerges is a genuine love story between two unlikely neighbors that tugs at your heartstrings when it all goes wrong.
Outside the parenthesis of the “Driver” and “Irene” love story, tragedy ensues. Cloaked in a euro trashy white silk bomber jacket with an emblematic gold scorpion covering his back, Driver sets out on his path of revenge to make things right, return the loot to its rightful owner and get ‘out of it’ for good.
His vengeful actions are presented in extreme violence, without limit for gruesome details, the type where you might actually need to look away. Yet, at no time, is Gosling’s “Driver” out of control. Each violent act is lean, and premeditated to have a beginning, middle and an end and is contained through his will to be protector. Before and after each violent act, is a tormented soul that weighs the guilt of letting a situation spiral out of control.
The heartbeat of the film, provided by Cliff Martinez curated soundtrack, runs an unequalled parallel to the depth of the character’s, the intensity put forth, and the ethereal vision that Refn has accomplished.
I’m pretty excited (but hesitant) for the upcoming Adventures of Tintin movie, as I think a lot of people are. James Curran though might be more excited than us all. He created this super rad, unofficial title sequence that utilizes themes and images from all 24 of the Tintin books, all blended together in one beautiful sequence. The fluidity and pace of this is great, it feels like you’re exploring Tintin’s entire life in just over a minute. Definitely be sure to check out the rest of his work on his portfolio as well, he’s doing some really great stuff.
