If Justine hadn't snapped at her sister near the end, I might consider it a happy ending -- she'd be redeemed by her grace with the boy, general uplift in spirit, facial expressions in the storm, and holding her sister's hand. But with that snap the ending is bleak. Severe depression is not magically redeemed, even in an intimate apocalypse, even with salvation in sight, infernal though it be. Justine lifts her countenance to relief by total combustion, sheds one tear, and sighs into oblivion. Her atoms must briefly soar like Sauron, then sigh like Saruman, while the world groans.
7.5 years ago I caught the style but missed the meaning. For all my attraction to melancholy, it's taking me decades to understand true melancholia. Back then the movie was a tale of two parts: the first an exaggerated image of misery; the second an intimate but literal apocalypse. The first was painful but theatrical; the second was thrilling. And I perceived good style throughout.
But I completely missed the metaphor and the authenticity. I may have enjoyed the connection between the name of the planet and her condition, and the unique drama it bred, but only in von Trier's universe. I often perceive cinematic universes, and fail to connect them to ours. I don't think allegory is my forte. Often I watch movies for style. I enjoy allegory when I see it, but oftener I miss it.
Von Trier's universe thrilled me, though mostly once we moved past the discomfort of her depression -- discomfort to the rest of us, that is. I watched her illness unfold from the thoroughly third person -- never imagining she was me or even a member of my reality. She was fictitious and fantastical and deliberately painful, like horror designed to agonize and entertain you. I endured Part I, probably heroizing those frustrated by her recklessness? In retrospect, what should she have done differently? Not tried to get married on whatever glimmer of hope of happiness? Humans have every right to attempt happiness. Whomever she wrecked on the way, she deserved a shot at a wedding, if she thought it might make her happy. If she never thought it would, and remorselessly wrecked everyone involved, that's another story. I'm not sure which is true. I give her every forgiveness to attempt happiness, unless among equal opportunities she's remorselessly choosing those that hurt others. But maybe the wedding was a last valiant effort. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps until the incident with the guy on the golf course. That's reckless at best (sadomasochist at worst... I guess all moral actions are sadomasochist at worst).
I empathize with Claire and her husband. I've been alternately patient and incredulous dealing with another's chronic, senseless misery. It is miserable and helpless and baffling. I think I perceived those two characters accurately 7.5 years ago. Justine and the foreign planet were the only alien elements. Justine was like a foreign planet -- alien and intolerable. Claire was all-too-human. I perceived her, though I missed her moonlight.
Part II is thrilling even bereft of allegory, as I could well have told you in college. I vividly remembered three moments from the movie: the planet overfills the wire ring; we realize John gave up; Claire panics upon final impact. Other hazier memories: the incident with the guy on the golf course; uncomfortable speeches; Justine basking by the creek; the early collision animation; nothing about real depression and its fallout.
I really like this movie. I wish I loved a character more -- Claire is just a little too anxious and maternal. If she wasn't, we wouldn't have such a foil, but I may love the movie more. It's hard to love a movie without loving or holistically empathizing with a character, if it's character-driven at all. Claire was a little too anxious and motherly. Contrast Gainsbourg's role with her other two sandwiching it in the Depression trilogy. I admire the combination.
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