Antichrist: Review By Bryan Yentz

When a family goes venturing into a cabin guarded by a forested threshold, they typically journey forth with the yearning for adventure--a hike here and there, maybe some hunting, possibly a little rest and relaxation on the front porch as the occasional woodland critter darts from tree to tree. For many people, it's a simple means of returning to nature for a lil' solace... Not for Lars Von Trier, however. For him, it's a nightmare. A festering smorgasbord of horror, teeming with self-disemboweling foxes, painful sexual experiences, and ghostly apparitions. With Antichrist, the controversial director affirms two things: he knows how to do horror, and he's obviously not the guy you want to invite to your next mountain retreat.

After the sudden death of their child, psychologist "He" (played by Willem Dafoe) hopes to mend the broken heart and mind of his wife "She" (played by Charlotte Gainsbourg), by taking her to their old cabin for some off-the-book treatment. As their trip progresses, however, the dark heart of nature, guilt, anger, sorrow, and love begin manifesting themselves in the worst, most disturbing ways possible.

What most people should immediately recognize about this film is the sheer amount of controversy it reeled in during last year's Cannes Film Festival. While there was a unified consensus on its surreal beauty, for most, it was either a love it or hate it experience. Half deemed it art-house torture-porn; half lauded its audacity. As for me? Well, I was honestly quite surprised... In a good way. A very good way.

Be it known, I'm no fan of Von Trier. Yes, he has talent, but none of his previous entries have ever garnered much out of me other than a simple tilt of the head and an utterance of, "meh". So, after hearing about the drudgery and sadism that was this most recent endeavor, I went in expecting some explicit material bogged down by cinematic boredom. Really, this was a flick I wanted to witness just so I could say I had. Honesty though, Antichrist delivered in ways I wasn't expecting. The film plods about for its two-hour run time, but it looks absolutely astounding. There is such a haunting beauty permeating every facet of this film that even the slowest portions had my full attention. Anthony Dod Mantle's cinematography combined with the consistent adjustments in frame-rate create numerous sequences of visual flair combined with an omnipresent feeling of dread. I can definitely say that scenes depicting falling acorns have never been so elegant, yet so terrifying. Aiding this are the punctuations of sound design which accompany certain portions and lend all the more to the ever-increasing tension at hand. The film doesn't even bother with actual music outside of its black/white prologue and epilogue, and it's all the better for it. Outside of these two portions there are no musical cues tossed about during the film to make the viewer feel a certain way.

Despite my captivation with its technicalities, however, the narrative is what I truly give kudos to. While I knew the film to encompass elements of hell, mental and physical degradation, and creepy-ass imagery, I never imagined it to all be linked by a thoroughly satisfying story revolving around witchcraft, child abuse and gynocide, which all builds towards an unforgettable climax of visceral sexual violence that refuses to leave the mind once it's entered. Seriously, I couldn't even think about anything sexual for God knows how long, lest images of genital ruin corrode my brain. As brief as these moments last--and as obviously pornographic as they are--they nonetheless leave an incredibly lasting impact. I also found it quite intriguing that the imagery changed depending on the character witnessing it. While one's personification was that of decaying animals, the other was that of their deceased child--both visual and audible. It was a neat dynamic that further made me question what each spouse was going suffering through mentally.

As far as negatives, while I was entranced Von Trier's dream-like direction, the first chapter of the film is a bit slow in its build. Outside of this, portions of Von Trier's pretentious attitude rears its head here and there, but never hindered the overall piece. I think anyone watching a work of Von Trier needs to understand that the guy is quite the ostentatious douchebag--especially when it comes to the realm of cinema.

I had my predispositions about this one, but this is an absolute depiction of horror that is unflinching in its content and undeniably compelling to watch. While I can't say I'll be watching this in the near future, it remains a galvanizing pinnacle of soul-crushing ugliness wrapped in a veneer of visual flair and uncompromising storytelling.