** MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!!
75% of this is a meandering meditation on grief -- cerebral, reflective and hardly offensive. Little by little though, the wife (Charlotte Gainsbourg) starts to lose her marbles, and late in the movie, nails her husband (Willem DaFoe) in the balls with a piece of firewood. That’s just the start of the fucked-up part of the movie, which culminates in the wife cutting off her own clitoris with a pair of dull scissors. All on camera, of course, but it’s done tastefully. I’ve always admired filmmaker Lars von Trier for his unique, uncompromising voice. And I didn’t hate this, but I can’t really recommend it either. It’s hard to tell what’s really going on or what it all means. It is, purely, a look into one filmmaker’s distraught soul where chaos reigns, apparently. This is according to a talking fox making a cameo during the fucked-up part. The point is, any attempts at interpretation will yield only puzzled conjecture.
So ring-up that lucky gal or guy, grab the flowers and the box of candy, and get ready for the BEST DATE MOVIE EVER!
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