Our house is violence

In an interview with Cahiers du Cinéma, Lars von Trier, explaining the reasons that prompted him to take up the story of a serial killer, says: “All my women were terribly passionate about different famous maniacs like Ted Banda, and it always surprised me, so I wondered why?” Well, the question was obviously rhetorical. And the viewer, whom von Trier holds for an idiot, or rather, for the child of a small one (not without reason his film is called a line from a children's song), must joyfully exclaim: your women, Lars, were obsessed with you, you are the most important maniac!

Immediately after the Cannes premiere, everyone together decided that Jack was an alter of the ego directed von Trier, his unfinished house from the frozen remains of the victims is the universe, artistic, of course (the unique author’s world), and the notorious Catabasis (another catchy word in this 150-minute Neimdropping Orgy) is a thorny path to creating a masterpiece. The road to greatness is paved with corpses of children, women and ducklings. They are the perfect material for the new Digressonist opus. The first to cum out of the gun, having previously crushed the knees, the second either cut off the chest, or, without ceremony, spread their head with a swift jack. Well, the feathered simply cut off the paw by a secateur. The instrument of these funny games von Trier is the aged Matt Dillon, who clearly missed the excellent directorial Mochilov since distant times of the “pharmacy cowboy”. He is aware that he plays a metaphor that his hero is a collective image of all the filmmakers (from Jack-Rights to Patrick Baytman), the starting point of the supposedly philosophical essay on the nature of the violence, one of the varieties of which is real art .

Is this artist ethos? And who is he - an engineer and healer of human souls? Or is the moral law not written to him? In what proportions of the genius and villainy should coexist in one single great head? Apparently, in an equal footing, otherwise Lars von Trier would not once again poke into our physiognomy with his supposedly beloved architect Speer (Wagner, glory to the gods, changed the church organ). Terror is the most important of the arts.

When the offended spectators who have moved along the false trail hurry to the exit, von Trier will not be dismissed in the back of the middle finger, and those who remained will witness the moralizing ending. Evil will be punished, turned into a glowing abyss and will never return, as the song “Hit the Road Jack” , which plays on the credits. No matter how much Jack is justified, illustrating the right to moral relativism by the MHK masterpieces, a chronicle of mass extermination and, finally, the technology of blending dessert wines, and burn him in hell.

Polystilistic hodgepodge from cultural monuments (Gauguin, Picasso, Gustav Dore, the cathedrals of the flame of Gothic, Home Video Glenna Gulda, learning Bach's Administration, his own filmography) crowns allegory supa, a living picture, as if made by Aes+F , based on Ezhen Delacrois and Vergilia in hell "from the collection of Louvre. If the Goddar in the “Book of images” deconstructed the creative of centuries, rightly believing any narrative with an absolute evil, the greatest lies, Trier, suddenly enjoyed, uses a potassium from the apologists of humanism as circus strokes, so that the genre hooliganism has already pushed to the level of religious revelation. The nymphomaniac continuously continuing, the unspoken motto of which was “forget about love”, “the house that Jack built” summarizes: “And you will go to hell.” Opera swing for the sake of an opera impact; Here the most faithful fan will regret that he did not retreat after experiments on the duckling. Provocation is always more fascinating than preaching.

In the same interview, von Trier suddenly recalls his only conversation with his father. It was on the football field. “I will show you that there is a real sport. Get on the gate, and I will break the penalty, be ready, the ball will fly to the left, ”the father told Little Lars. Then, contrary to expectations, hit the right, and the ball, of course, hit the net. “That's what is called sports,” the senior trier said meaningfully and left. But it is more than 18 to humanity, and it is strange that the great artist is so selflessly trying to beat him in thimbles. On the other hand - but it turns out!

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