1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 16: Breaking the waves
Opening lines:
BESS: “His name is Jan.”
MINISTER: “I do not know him.”
BESS: “He’s from the lake.”
MINISTER: “You know we do not favor matrimony with outsiders.”
ELDER: “Can you even tell us what matrimony is?”
BESS: “It’s when two people are joined in God.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
The plot of this 160-minute parable is so simple that were I to recount it, your viewing would be spoiled.
And yet, it’d be negligent not to discuss this movie. Roger Ebert and Martin Scorsese both list it among the decade’s ten best. It’s not as good as that, though it’s certainly a landmark of the period – and of the career of the director, Lars von Trier.
In his review, Ebert provides an interpretation of the movie that is very close to my own – at the cost of spoiling almost every plot point. A reader of his website comments: “Nobody ever gave away entire movie plots as proficiently as did Ebert.” But that’s not quite fair. How else could this most skeletal of movies have been analyzed?
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
In bleak, windswept Scotland, village lass Bess (Emily Watson) marries oilman Jan (Stellan Skarsgård). Gentle and easygoing, Jan is indifferent to religion. Bess is profoundly pious (and maybe a bit mad). Her church is ruled by stern elders.
As newlyweds, Bess and Jan are blissful, even ecstatic. Then a brutal hardship, which I’ll not describe, befalls them, and they must make sacrifices to prop each other up – indeed, to save each other. The logic is basically that of an O. Henry story such as “The Gift of the Magi” or “The Last Leaf.”
It’s a tiny chewing-gum morsel of a story, stretched out to near-ridiculous length. Now add this: the hardships and sacrifices that Bess and Jan undergo are grotesque, verging on inhuman. So, the story turns horrific. (Imagine the wife in “The Gift of the Magi” resorting to the vilest prostitution.)
All of this takes place on cliffs and moors and oil rigs over a cold ocean.
Scene by scene, it’s tension-filled, compelling. The handheld camera jerks us into the middle of the action.
But we’re also constantly reminded of the movie’s artificiality. “Chapters” are announced with gorgeous, dream-like title cards set to rock music of the 1970s.
For whatever reason, I was much less affected by Breaking the Waves than by two of von Trier’s other movies, Dancer in the Dark and Melancholia. But if you like those movies, you’ll probably like Breaking the Waves. All three are grimly humorous; all are grainy and naturalistic, with occasional, highly stylized interruptions.
All have stunning conclusions.
BESS: “His name is Jan.”
MINISTER: “I do not know him.”
BESS: “He’s from the lake.”
MINISTER: “You know we do not favor matrimony with outsiders.”
ELDER: “Can you even tell us what matrimony is?”
BESS: “It’s when two people are joined in God.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
The plot of this 160-minute parable is so simple that were I to recount it, your viewing would be spoiled.
And yet, it’d be negligent not to discuss this movie. Roger Ebert and Martin Scorsese both list it among the decade’s ten best. It’s not as good as that, though it’s certainly a landmark of the period – and of the career of the director, Lars von Trier.
In his review, Ebert provides an interpretation of the movie that is very close to my own – at the cost of spoiling almost every plot point. A reader of his website comments: “Nobody ever gave away entire movie plots as proficiently as did Ebert.” But that’s not quite fair. How else could this most skeletal of movies have been analyzed?
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
In bleak, windswept Scotland, village lass Bess (Emily Watson) marries oilman Jan (Stellan Skarsgård). Gentle and easygoing, Jan is indifferent to religion. Bess is profoundly pious (and maybe a bit mad). Her church is ruled by stern elders.
As newlyweds, Bess and Jan are blissful, even ecstatic. Then a brutal hardship, which I’ll not describe, befalls them, and they must make sacrifices to prop each other up – indeed, to save each other. The logic is basically that of an O. Henry story such as “The Gift of the Magi” or “The Last Leaf.”
It’s a tiny chewing-gum morsel of a story, stretched out to near-ridiculous length. Now add this: the hardships and sacrifices that Bess and Jan undergo are grotesque, verging on inhuman. So, the story turns horrific. (Imagine the wife in “The Gift of the Magi” resorting to the vilest prostitution.)
All of this takes place on cliffs and moors and oil rigs over a cold ocean.
Scene by scene, it’s tension-filled, compelling. The handheld camera jerks us into the middle of the action.
But we’re also constantly reminded of the movie’s artificiality. “Chapters” are announced with gorgeous, dream-like title cards set to rock music of the 1970s.
For whatever reason, I was much less affected by Breaking the Waves than by two of von Trier’s other movies, Dancer in the Dark and Melancholia. But if you like those movies, you’ll probably like Breaking the Waves. All three are grimly humorous; all are grainy and naturalistic, with occasional, highly stylized interruptions.
All have stunning conclusions.