Nymphomaniac - Volume 1

Félicitations à Trier pour avoir osé traiter un sujet aussi inconfortable et qui intéresse pourtant tout le monde, mais pour lequel peu auraient l'audace de le faire. Réjouissons-nous aussi du fait que c'est un cinéaste doté d'une telle grâce scénaristique et cinématographique qui s'y est attaqué. Qui d'autre ferait jouer des stars hollywoodiennes dans un film aussi explicite, dont la version cinéma élaguée contient encore des séquences hardcores ? (Peut-être juste Haneke.) Les dialogues, la direction des acteurs, l'enchaînement des scènes, l'ambiance, tout est nickel. Nymphomaniac est un film destiné à un public adulte, mais pas pour sa nudité. Plus vous en savez sur le sexe et plus vous l'avez expérimenté et vécu, plus vous le comprendrez. C'est un film d'exploration psychologique, sérieux et triste, mais raconté avec humour par le biais de comparaisons métaphoriques. La définition de la polyphonie est au cœur du film et le déjà-vu Rammsteinien du Lost Highway de Lynch en est la racine. Je suis curieux de voir le deuxième volet et encore plus curieux de voir la version intégrale, qui a déjà une place réservée sur mon étagère au rayon des films essentiels. (31/12/2013)

For the moment, some indecision about the latest “controversial” prank by Lars. The individual stylistically different chapters are effective, from the depressive Delirium to the almost grotesque (and the most fun) Ms H., with Uma Thurman. But what really annoyed me was the binding conversation between Gainsbourg and Skarsgård, it feels as if they’re talking at cross purposes all the time. It’s drowning in shallow allegories and metaphors, which Trier shows way too literally on top of that. Some of those allegories are so stupid that I have no choice but to consider them as intentional mockery of the philosophers and intellectuals who love to connect the unconnectable, find meaning where there is none, and find profound truths in the likening of a sexual train trip to fishing. Here they don’t need to look for anything because Trier has found it for them, and everything is so explicitly shown, from the fish in the river to the graphic representation of the golden ratio. I believe that he is now laughing and singing something along those lines. If I’m wrong, he’s gone mad. Let’s see what Volume 2 brings. (27/12/2013)

Interrupted masturbation. There are basically two ways to read this metaphor. 1. Being pulled out from deep fascination with watching the volatile dialogue of an aging cultural man (Seligman) and an impulsive, animal woman (Joe), who describes to him her sexual maturation with an emphasis on earthiness, while he places details full of vaginal secretions in a network of parallels, archetypes and classical art procedures. 2. Interruption of Lars von Trier's directorial masturbation. The third sinner in a bizarre psychoanalytic session is undoubtedly the Danish enfant terrible, who exposes the meanings and his directing method to the viewer. Shia LaBeouf's penis is not the "most explicit" component of Nymphomaniac: Vol. I. The most explicit component is the way in which Trier consistently turns the challenging theme into the ancient genre of Bildungsroman, which, following the example of old texts, reveals in the introduction what the next chapter will be about, what the viewer will learn from it, and with what intention the narrator tells it. A quirk? Certainly. Does it work? Not always. Since there is no point in evaluating the fragments that Trier ingeniously assesses during the ENTIRE narrative. I will just stick to the fact that this public masturbation, which does not avoid excess, but at the same time has a sometimes surprisingly tame and cultured effect on Danish conditions, has my focused attention for the next two hours. (20/12/2013)

Trier listened to talk about how brilliant he was for so long that he finally believed it and tried to create the most complex film of all time. In it, he has it out with everyone and comments on absolutely everything, thereby serving up an incredible load of motifs, images, metaphors, and subliminal messages that is, at its core, cheaper than paid sex for one time... (Volume 2) (04/04/2014)

Lars von Trier once again made me think. Not only did he make a unique biographical film, but he also crossed the boundaries with an excellent camera and a special way of narration, to which he is actually no stranger. What’s worse is the fact that he divided the story of a nymphomaniac into two long two-hour films, which have no fundamental point at all for the viewer to focus on. We just see Charlotte Gainsbourg lying on the street, beaten within an inch of her life. Stellan Skarsgård takes her under his wings, wishing to hear her story. Why was she lying beaten on the street? So Charlotte starts telling her story. Chapter 1 – a discovery that I have a pussy. Chapter 2 – a discovery how to use my pussy. And then a story starts to unfold about the nymphomaniac using others, not caring what it does to them. At the same time she starts to meet people who are even more twisted than she is. At times it’s absurd, at times it’s fun, a few shots came straight from a porn flick, but as a whole it did absolutely nothing to me. Anyhow I started watching the second part right away, because I was hoping that the story would get at least a bit depraved… (10/12/2014)