The House That Jack Built *** ½ / *****
Directed by: Lars von
Trier.
Written by: Lars von
Trier and Jenle Hallund.
Starring: Matt Dillon (Jack), Bruno
Ganz (Verge), Uma Thurman (Lady 1), Siobhan Fallon Hogan (Lady 2), Sofie Gråbøl
(Lady 3), Riley Keough (Simple), Jeremy Davies (Al), Ed Speleers (Ed - Police
officer 2), David Bailie (S.P.), Cohen Day (George), Rocco Day (Grumpy), Robert
G. Slade (Rob).
It’s
really saying something to note that in a year where we finally saw Orson
Welles’ final vision in The Other Side of the Wind, a film where Welles
undeniably is interrogating himself as a filmmaker, that Lars von Trier’s The
House That Jack Built is the film most closely connected to its creators in its
willingness to interrogate the man who made it. The film is two-and-a-half
hours of Von Trier responding to his critic’s claims of his misanthropy and
misogyny, basically by proving them right. He is deliberately trying to be
provocative here – and your mileage will vary on how much of this you’re
willing to sit through. The film is full of violence against women and children
– all of it hard to watch – as well as long conversations comparing artists to
murderers, some of which is insightful, and some of which sounds like an
insufferable undergrad who goes on long rants in class as the rest of the class
either rolls their eyes, or fall asleep. This isn’t a great film by Von Trier –
a director who has undeniable made some great films – Breaking the Waves,
Dancer in the Dark, Dogville, Antichrist, Nymphomaniac, the first half of
Melancholia – but it is something to behold. It is almost as if Von Trier is
saying to his critics that while they may hate him, he hates himself even more.
After all, by the end of the film, his surrogate is literally in hell.
That
surrogate is Jack (Matt Dillon), a prolific serial killer, who is telling his
story to Verge (Bruno Ganz – a faceless voice until the epilogue of the film)
about five of his killings. He has so little regard for his victims that they
are never given names – except for one, who he has dubbed Simple, because that
is precisely how he sees her. So there is the first lady, played by Uma Thurman,
who Jack picks up on the side of the road when she gets a flat tire, and her
Jack breaks. He drives her to a repair shop, back to her car, and is driving
her back again, when tired of her screeching into his ear, joking that he is a
serial killer, and laughing about that because he’s obviously too weak to be
that, he smashes the jack into her face. He kills another woman by strangling
her in her room, he takes a woman and her two young sons on a hunting trip, and
then uses them as the game. The most infamous sequence has to do with Simple,
of course, a woman he was involved with romantically, before the extended
torture sequence which involves him cutting off her breasts. It was at this
point at Cannes that many who made it that far had had enough, and walked out.
But Von Trier just keeps on going and going and going. We only see a few of
Jack’s crimes – but we see the bodies of his victims, which he keeps stacked up
in a walk in freezer – and will occasionally move them around, the photograph
them in weird positions. Jack is a failed architect, and the title seems to be
about the house he always wanted to build – that he planned for years – but the
last act, he literally does build a house out of those bodies – and then walks
through to hell.
What you
make of the film is up to you. I cannot tell you to sit through the film and
its violence because the payoff is something terribly profound, because to be
frank, it isn’t. If you don’t want to put yourself through all of that vile
violence, fair enough – it is hard to take. It’s also hard to take the endless
conversations between Jack and Verge – which most often plays over images of
historical atrocities – although in one telling sequence, it’s over clips of
Von Trier’s other films. As with the violence, Von Trier repeats himself again
and again in this dialogue, belaboring his point. You may disagree with his
ideas about art, and the similarities between artists and murderers, but at
least some of it is interesting to listen to. Much of it isn’t though.
In a way,
simply by watching the film, you make Von Trier into the winner here. Much like
Jack, as he details his thoughts to Verge, he isn’t actually trying to convince
you of anything – he just doesn’t want to be ignored. This not really a film
where Von Trier bandies about ideas as much as one where he talks to you
directly, and you have to sit there and take it. And then take it some more.
And if
all that sounds insufferable to you, then you shouldn’t see The House That Jack
Built – although, you probably already know that since you’ve probably never
much liked Von Trier – a completely valid stance, as he is at times too much to
take. For me, as a fan of Von Trier, I found much of it fascinating and sad and
infuriating and repulsive and vile. The filmmaking is at times among the best
things Von Trier has ever put on screen – the epilogue in hell is visually
stunning. I cannot tell you to watch The House That Jack Built – most audiences
will either be repulsed or bored (or, more likely, both) by the film. And it
certainly isn’t the film to watch if you’ve never seen a Von Trier film before.
But if you’ve made it this far in the review, and you want to see it – then go
ahead. It is everything that people who hated it said it was – it’s also
everything that people who loved it said it was.
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