Nymphomaniac
Directed by Lars von Trier
Distributed by Magnolia Pictures
Joe, the protagonist of Nymphomaniac (played by the perfectly-cast Charlotte Gainsbourg) asserts at one point in the film that she is set apart from other people because she always demanded more of the sunset—brighter colours on the horizon, a greater spectacle.
Director Lars von Trier has similarly always seemed to be in search of making his films brighter, more immersive, and more rewarding. Von Trier has achieved this in Nymphomaniac, his four-hour film about a sex addict whose life plummets through pain, pleasure, and a surprising amount of humour.
Nymphomaniac is first and foremost a film of risk.
It throws most conventions of censorship away unapologetically, showing gratuitous amounts of nudity and violence. This isn’t just a film you would avoid watching with grandma, it’s a movie that deeply explores sex and masochism, written and directed by a guy with “FUCK” tattooed on his knuckles.
The challenging images and length of this movie could be understandably unbearable for some viewers, although those willing to properly invest their interest will at least find food for thought in the story, and respect other elements of the film.
Nymphomaniac begins with the character Seligman (Stellan Skarsgard) finding Joe bloody and nearly unconscious in an alley. He invites her up to his apartment, and she proceeds to tell him the story of her life.
This framing narrative is tacky, although the film is so self-aware that it uses this as a point of humour. At one point Seligman even remarks that Joe’s life sounds like a movie, with many scenes absurdly embellished and full of bizarre coincidences.
One of the undeniable strengths of Nymphomaniac is the acting.
Stacy Martin’s portrayal of young Joe is brilliant, stronger even than Gainsbourg’s role as the older version of the character.
Martin gives Joe a terrifying subtlety, often draping the character in an iced-over gaze and silence, but commanding attention with small phrases, shifts in her eyes or body language.
Shia LaBeouf plays the devilish, conceited Jerôme with effortlessness, and when the two characters cross paths, it leads to some of the film’s most remarkable scenes.
The story of Nymphomaniac is at times difficult to follow, and plays with so many themes that it can feel scattered. At some moments, the film feels like it was meant to be a book—picked up and put down, processed in chunks and given a format that could let the length and sprawl of the story breathe better.
At its best, von Trier is offering a challenging take on storytelling, and a victorious film that will be imitated for years to come.
Nymphomaniac will make you uncomfortable. It will challenge you. You might even turn it off halfway through.
If given attention however, the film will undeniably leave you thinking, and contains some of the most horrifying and gleeful (usually both at once) scenes in recent years. Any die-hard film fan will draw something of value from an afternoon in the arms of von Trier.
