Something’s
rotten in Denmark. Or on a soundstage in Denmark, anyway, which for the
purposes of Dogville stands in for a small town in the Rockies during the
Depression. Well, the chalk outlines of a town, because aside from those and
some furniture, that is all we see of it. Director Lars Von Trier (Dancer in the Dark) takes Our Town and makes it his: his idea of
what America is like and what is wrong with it.
           A narrator introduces us to the
quaint community and to the homiletic thorn in its side: Tom, who is ever
vigilant in his moral judgment of the other denizens of Dogville. Tom is
obsessed with offering his services for the town’s betterment, as Von Trier
appears to be for us.
           While
the director may be spoofing himself in this regard, the film is a hall of
mirrors when it comes to the topic. People pass judgment on one another, the
judging itself is judged, the film judges this and, by implication, it’s very
own point — until even refraining from judgment is called into question.
           If this sounds didactic, in a
playful way it’s meant to be. One could almost picture it being performed in a
high school auditorium (until things get ugly). It’s no accident that the film
adopts the trappings of a theater performance, however loosely it plays with
them. It contains some of the most striking and cinematic shots you’ll see this
year, despite the austerity of the stage, and discontinuous editing helps slip
the artifice into something more human, communicating moments like a memory.
           The film resembles a low-key theater
rehearsal, and this really strips the wheat from the chaff, acting-wise. A few
of the younger actors don’t fare well, bare of the context that can sometimes
blur their weaknesses in other films, and the veteran actors shine
effortlessly. The rest, Kidman included, perform quite well — as invisibly as
the sets, in fact.
           The means of telling the story and
the simplicity of the lesson it seems to present fall away as the story rolls
along. Kidman plays a mysterious fugitive who stumbles into town and tests the
goodness of its people, to Tom’s delight. She ends up enriching their lives,
and then, people being what they are, it all takes a turn for the worse. A
great ending somewhat misses its cue, but Von Trier makes up for it with a
bewilderingly ambiguous, entertainingly provocative credit sequence that makes
you wonder what his point really was.
           Dogville‘s
“play” is less an indictment of America than of human nature. America gets
dragged into it in Von Trier’s stated intentions and the disorienting end
credits, but his only point seems to be to blindside us with his invective for
a place he has famously never been. He’s like an attack dog bouncing off a
chain link fence while we, America, turn dully and stare with mild confusion.
You shake your head, it makes no sense, but it’s a lot of fun to watch.
Comic-book adaptationThe Punisher opens with an Ennio Morricone-style revenge theme, as
befits its premise. Apparently the producers couldn’t get the rights to “What
Have I Done To Deserve This,” so you’ll have to listen to it on the way home in
your car, or just think it while you watch the movie.
           This is The Punisher’s back story,
how he got his nickname (or came up with it, for he breaks one of life’s most
important rules and gives himself his nickname). An FBI agent, his undercover
work leads to the death of the son of the villain played by John Travolta. So
Travolta wipes out the guy’s extended family — not that you care, because all
you have seen of them are tedious Hallmark moments.
           On this basis begins his revenge
scheme, if you can call it that, The Punisher (Thomas Jane) transforms himself
into a one-man A-Team (Master Craft manages a plug) and then just kind of sits
around and hangs out. Sporadically he goes out and picks off someone involved
in the massacre, and then goes back to the skeevy loft building he shares with
a motley trio of unwanted neighbors.
           The two guys are audience-surrogate
fanboy geeks who exist mainly to gush with admiration and awe over him. The
woman is a hard-luck waitress hanging out with them when not working in a
pin-drop empty greasy spoon, and is played by Rebecca
Romijn-Stamos. This is actually the most plausible of the script’s endless
array of head-scratchers, which, if cataloged here, would require a special
pullout section of the paper.
           The
implausibilities are often a welcome respite from the drudgery of the
exposition and the waiting. Travolta and his screen wife embrace the ham of the
occasion, but otherwise there is scant occurrence of comic-book fun, or of
anything interesting. A funny, ridiculous brawl with a Russian strongman is the
rare exception, but a bit about a singing hitman just mystifies.
           The
final moment of revenge is so contrived and pointless that it doesn’t satisfy
in even the most cursory way. The fact that Dogville,
a Danish art flick, boasts a far more satisfying revenge sequence is pretty
darn sad, and punishment indeed.
Dogville (R), starring Nicole
Kidman, Harriet Andersson, Lauren Bacall, Paul Bettany, Blair Brown, James
Caan, written and directed by Lars Von Trier, Pittsford Cinema. The Punisher
(R), starring Thomas Jane, John Travolta, Will Patton, Rebecca
Romijn-Stamos, directed by Jonathan Hensleigh, Canandaigua Theatres.
This article appears in Apr 21-27, 2004.
