Watching Nymphomaniac Vol. 1 is the equivalent to watching a college student’s moderately intriguing research project. You dig it, you get it, and you ultimately respect it, but in the long run, you rather be doing something more germane.
Lars Von Trier’s sharp analysis of nymphomania through the scientific psyche is ever so agonizing—in the perspective of its subject matter NOT its characters/storyline. Never was I once bored learning about the universal catastrophe that nymphomania can have upon us as humans. The inspection of the sexual mind gone rouge is undeniably absorbing.
That being said, this movie is a populous idea hidden in a grave amount of illiteracy. I can’t get over the fact that I felt nothing after watching this unlike, Melancholia, a film in which you can actually undergo the grisly depression that essences off of the characters. The anguish and devastation that is—supposedly—fixated inside our presented characters seems so bleakly unapperent in Volume 1. Obviously, you can interpret what causes what (struggles, emotions, actions, etc.) in the case of this nymphomaniac, but you hardly feel as if the remorse of it all is authentically there, and it conclusively, doesn’t burden you wholly by the end. Well, 1/2 of the end.
Sidenote: I won’t get over the fact that von Trier pulled a “Princess and the Bride” on us. Deciding that the main character should be telling the story of her life to some random stranger who happens to be the most knowledgeable man on the entire planet, that can, out of the blue, explain every little metaphor or concept is an awful approach to constructing heavy exposition. Weakest use of a host in order to explain your “abstract” thoughts von Trier. I can only pray that Volume 2 will explain the significance of the two characters blurting bedtime stories to one another.
It’s palpable exploring Nymphomaniac Vol. 1’s conducting topic, but the overarching sense of finance into von Trier’s storyline feels hollow. There’s just barely enough von Trier magic for me to get through this one merrily, but there’s also a grave amount of von Trier haphazardness that also made me—only slightly—reject it. There’s potentially a much more masterful movie in this, decisively, so-so of a film though, I’ll give him that. (Verdict: C+)
Uma Thurman is in this movie for like, 10 minutes at the most, yet, she steals the whole show. She pulled a Wolf of Wall Street McConaughey fellas.
Christian Slater not using his normal Christian Slater voice should be considered a federal offense.
I just realized Lars von Trier is just Edgar Wright if Edgar Wright suffered from severe depression and decided to display all of it into The Depression Trilogy instead of The Cornetto Trilogy.
This Movie Is A Part Of My List: Ranking Lars von Trier’s Films From Best To Worst