"The House That Jack Built” Review
Lars von Trier. If you don't know who that is or haven't seen any of his films, “The House That Jack Built” won't be for you.
There was a time when I really admired von Trier. This is an artist who does whatever he wants and doesn't play by anyone's rules. People refer to him as a maverick director. I still maintain that he is a very good artist and has the talent of crafting psychologically complex and flawed characters with the emphasis on the flaws… When he wants to. Dogville, Melancholia, and Dancer in the Dark are still some of my favourite movies ever (though all of these examples have been plagued by the terrible things he has done and/or have said during and after filming). For the most part, I've been able to separate the art from the artist. Until now. To talk about the movie, I think you need to talk about von Trier himself. It's a movie, not unlike Gaspar Noé’s “Love”, where the self references become obnoxiously blunt and the narcissism is the heart of the movie. Both creators thrive from shock value and controversy.
In the movie, we follow Jack (played hilariously by Matt Dillon) a serial killer on a twelve-year murder spree. He believes that the act of murder is a form of art. There are a lot of references to classic paintings, Gothic architecture, Lars von Trier films, Glenn Gould and Bob Dylan -the latter two, along with Jack, serving as metaphors for the real life von Trier and the Lars von Trier movies representing, well, Lars von Trier movies. I couldn't make this shit up even if I tried. It's like that book that the Narrator reads in Fight Club but instead of it being “I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise”, I'm the one who's unsurprised by Jack. It's the closest thing to watching a filmmaker literally masturbate on camera and me and the rest of the audience have all payed and willingly subjected ourselves to this uncomfortable and weird meta experience.
The film is structured into five random “Incidents” each involving graphic murders (to the point of being unbearably repetitive and nihilistic), an artsy epilogue that alludes to more classic art pieces and poetry -all told through a philosophical dialogue between Jack and an older man named Verge (Bruno Ganz). Although the film is slow and the episodes are lengthy, it never feels poorly paced or badly acted (with Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Sofie Gråbøl, and Riley Keough presenting highly nuanced and layered performances to often nameless victims and Matt Dillon portraying an organic progression of an awkward, inexperienced killer to a highly intelligent, manipulative, and skilled one by the end). The dialogue is sharp but does suffer from a bit too much exposition and self-indulgence. Its distinct editing and handheld documentary style cinematography (staples of any von Trier project) work wonders for its tension and dark comedy. Five episodes is too much for me personally, we get the point after the first and I mentally checked out after the third. The film barely shows anything new from that point on until its epilogue. It’s a shame since that hasn’t been the case with his movies. The torture and violence is gratuitous and isn’t justified regardless of how entertaining they may be (I know, I’m a sick fuck). The OCD that Jack has makes him interesting and flawed but the film doesn’t go anywhere with it. An image that sticks in my head is how Jack/von Trier describes addiction with an image of a person walking by two street lights with their shadow representing euphoria and dread. Cool moments like these are usually eclipsed by more senseless depraved acts and really begs the question of why the film even exists outside of serving von Trier’s own ego. There’re just so many scenes of a dude mutilating and killing women and children before my body rejects the film entirely and I’d nearly reached my limits with this one.
In a weird way, I’m really glad to have spent time sitting down in a theatre for a one-night screening of its unrated cut in a sold out show on a rainy night. It’s a film that pushes people’s buttons and makes people respond to it through passionate applause and intense disgust. I would say that watching the audience react to the movie was at times more interesting than the movie itself. I’ve had the pleasure to sit with film fans and people who were almost all experienced von Trier viewers, and the experience, in a beautiful way, makes me appreciate going to the movies more. I guess this is less of a review than it is of my emotional reaction to a film. That’s what von Trier wants from his audience and so I guess a reflection is all the more appropriate. All this being said, there was a lot of the movie that I enjoyed and might even have loved sitting through and then there were parts that I absolutely hated. I was less bothered by the violence as I was bored by it. What really bothers me though is von Trier’s narcissism. Since Jack is an extension of of the director, I have similar thoughts to the movie as I do to von Trier himself. I’m conflicted.