Movie Review: Antichrist
I don't typically review films via print, but Lars von Trier's latest body of artwork, Antichrist, wasn't really a typical film. It was more beautifully shot than some of the most gorgeous movies I've ever seen; it was scarier than any run of the mill horror film, and more disturbing than anything that's ever disturbed me in my life, in a very outside-of-the-spectrum of what-you-would-drop-your-jaw-at-because-of-its-astonishing-shock-value kind of way. I don't know what the normal protocol for revealing spoilers is in movie reviews, but to save you the trauma of reading about the things I saw in this film, I will leave them for your own viewing.
The opening of the film was a masterpiece innate of itself. Beautifully shot in slow motion, it was sexy; it was shocking; it was horrifying, and it was heart breaking. A mother and father vacation from their family life in the most vividly passionate way, and pay the ultimate consequence when they ignore their son while tangled in the throws of lovemaking. He (Willem Dafoe) is a therapist, and she (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is a writer, or something, but, more importantly, a very emotionally wrecked woman. He tries to help her iron out her fears so they can move on with their lives from their tragedy, and takes her to the heart of the woods, which she finds so frightening she actually refers to it as "Satan's church".