NYMPHOMANIAC

After years of speculation and anticipation, it’s finally here - Danish hell-raiser Lars von Trier’s four-hour, two-part sex epic ‘Nymphomaniac’. The controversial choice of subject manner, the exceptional international cast and the reputation of the provocative director have garnered this film more attention than a foreign film usually receives, and as each tantalising image and clip was released, the intrigue about exactly what von Trier was up to continued to build. And now we finally have the chance to see whether the anticipation was worth it, or if the acclaimed director has finally bitten off more than he can chew.

One evening, while walking home to his small apartment, Seligman (Stellen Skarsgård) comes across a woman beaten and bleeding in an alley. He takes her home, makes her a cup of tea and puts her to bed. She tells him that her name is Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and when Seligman asks her how she came to be in this position, she begins to tell him the story of her life, one dominated by her insatiable desire for sexual pleasure. Over the course of eight themed chapters, she steps through the encounters, experiences and complications that have defined her and her nymphomania, both an act of self-destruction and empowerment.

After the gruellingly emotional experiences of his previous two superb films, ‘Antichrist’ (2009) and ‘Melancholia’ (2011), it comes as a complete surprise that ‘Nymphomaniac’ is as thoroughly enjoyable a film as it is. Even at four hours, the film breezes along with an unexpected bouncy rhythm, bolstered by genuine humour and heart. It also breaks away from the stylistic choices that have become trademarks of von Trier’s work. The hand-held Dogme ’95 style is kept to a surprising minimum, replaced by carefully framed and often luscious cinematography by Manuel Alberto Claro. The slow-motion prologues that became a signature of his last two films are also absent, and while his use of cinematic techniques are still as inventive and unusual as ever, there is a surprising level of restraint about von Trier’s work here. His choice of subject suggested the Mad Dane could end up being provocative for the sake of it, but the provocations in the film are more intellectual than a subject of taste. Sex has been used as an integral part of a narrative before (such as in Steve McQueen’s 2011 masterpiece ‘Shame’), but rarely has a film actively been so about sex. The visual sexual content is of course explicit, but it never dominates the film, becomes actively arousing or detracts from the ideas the film is exploring. Joe is our focus on a hero journey through this quest for sexual understanding, with an openness to explore as many different sexual experiences as she can, many taboo, but always in the pursuit of greater understanding. Lars von Trier’s screenplay cracks with tremendous wit, particularly in the scenes between the highly experiential Joe and the highly intellectual Seligman. There’s always an air of not taking the subject of sex that seriously, and refreshingly so, taking advantage of its emotional and comic potential. The film has a very classical feel to it, which makes sense with its structure. The editing is considered and easy to digest, the music is mostly motifs from great classical music, and the London setting gives it a feeling of being both foreign and familiar. The production design is spot-on as it travels through nearly four decades, and the period texture only makes the film a more distinct, enjoyable and provocative experience.