MELANCHOLIA

Watching this family unravel is kind of like when you're driving down the street and you see a dog pooping on the side of the road. It's gross and you WANT to look away. Yet you cannot. You cannot.

Head over to Rotten Tomatoes if you want loads of high-brow, serious film critics analyzing director Lars von Trier like they know him personally. Because it's that kind of movie; the kind that makes everyone start looking for insanity or genius or both in the guy who made it. But I can't do that. I'll just tell you what this movie is like, and you can decide whether to see it, m'kay?

It's heavy. It's slow. It's like breathing under water. It's difficult on many levels, even the superficial level of physical discomfort in enduring the length, the pace, and the jarringly intimate camera work. However, it's absolutely worth the investment and you should definitely see it. In the theater.

The poetic opening sequence must be mentioned. Hypnotically dark images set the mood and tell you exactly what will happen to these characters. I wonder if this hook was necessary to keep everyone enthralled enough to endure the next hour. Anyway, it totally worked.

The title refers to the name of a fictional planet that is threatening to collide with Earth. Below this celestial drama, there are two sisters milling around a vast and secluded country estate. The first half of the film details the night of Justine's (Kirsten Dunst) wedding reception at her sister's house. Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), the elder of the two, hosts this lavish party for the wedding she believed would make her troubled sister happy.

Needless to say, Justine's melancholia (er, I mean depression) runs far deeper than anyone thought, and the "wedding cure" fails. Watching this family unravel is kind of like when you're driving down the street and you see a dog pooping on the side of the road. It's gross and you WANT to look away. Yet you cannot. You cannot.

Part I, "Justine", is painful. Part II, "Claire", is torturous. An unspecified amount of time later, Justine returns to her sister's house because she cannot function. With Claire's patient care, she gradually becomes more like a normal house guest and participates in the group activity of watching the planet, Melancholia, lumber toward Earth.

Under the stress of the approaching calamity and existential uncertainty, pathetic Justine and competent Claire begin to switch roles. Helplessly driven to protect her young son, Claire crumbles into a desperate panic. Justine, by contrast, feels the calm validation of all her darkest thoughts.

Though you know from the beginning what their fate will be, the heartbreaking details of their final hours will likely haunt you for days. Only the greatest detached cynic could leave the theater unaffected.

Melancholia is an apocolypse movie with none of the usual trappings. No panic in the streets, no military heroics, no presidents shouting on the phone. Just the quiet lonliness of letting go of everything, including yourself. Don't let this review or any others scare you off. This is unusual film experience that should not pass you by. (Also, there's a gratuitous amount of cleavage, if that helps.)