Melancholia

Love golf !

This appears for the first hour to be a good old fashioned Bunuel-style thrashing of the bourgeoisie and everything it holds sacred, with rogue ops courtesy of rampaging bridezilla, Dunst. Then Melancholia’s orbit tightens into an understated spiral of high anxiety. The earth is menaced by a rogue planet as Von Trier conflates the tides of his depressed soul into a cosmic danse macabre. Keifer dispels the threat by blinding himself with science but the ever irascible Kirsten, keen for closure, moonbathes in the intruder’s melancholy light, attempting to draw the monster closer by flashing her bits at it. No contest. Heavenly bodies collide. And Wagner. And more Wagner. Actually the same piece of Wagner. The End. And… after a trying start, great! Best film of this blog so far.

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