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One of the dangers any film critic faces is to become fascinated with the unusual and bored with the typical. To be effective, I must attempt to walk in my readers' shoes--to enjoy the simple pleasures of a well-told story no matter how many times I've seen it before. If I can't understand or even imagine what a weekend moviegoer will appreciate, my reviews will be of little relevance to you as a reader.

The divide between audiences and critics often arises from the number of movies we view; you might see ten to twenty films a year, while a reviewer will average well over ten times that many (I'm on track to see about 220 in the year 2000). Even though I might sit through 10, 20, even 30 romantic comedies a year, I have to put myself in the place of someone who's seeing that genre for the first time. That can often be a challenge. Concurrently, I have to be careful about latching onto a movie just because it's different, as many (most?) filmgoers aren't impressed with a movie that supposedly breaks new ground; they just want to know if it's worth their $8.50.

So it is with some trepidation that I proclaim Dancer in the Dark, the new movie from director Lars Von Trier (Breaking the Waves), as one of the best movies of the year. For this film is nothing if not unusual. It stars alterna-rock singer Bjork, it features highly jittery hand-held camerawork, and periodically the entire cast bursts into song-and-dance numbers. Yes, it's a musical for the new millennium, and I think it's a tour de force.

Selma (Bjork) is a single mother with a hereditary eye disease. She's going blind and, worse, her twelve-year-old son will too, unless he can have an expensive operation. Selma's been slaving away at a factory operating a tool-and-die machine, sometimes working two shifts. At night, she assembles small parts on a piecemeal basis, all in the hope of saving money for her son.

Her disease and work have taken their toll, however. Selma's eyesight has deteriorated rapidly, and there's little her friend Kathy (Catherine Deneuve, Belle de Jour) and not-so-secret admirer Jeff (Peter Stormare, Fargo) can do. They help her at work, drive her to the doctor, and look after her son, but the fact of the matter is that Selma doesn't have enough money and soon won't be able to work at all.

If that sounds depressing, it's balanced by Selma's love of musicals. Despite her eyesight, she's starring as Maria in a local, very amateurish production of The Sound of Music. Also, her ability to transform the rhythms of the factory or passing trains into fantastic daydreams of singing and dancing is captivating and moving. She also shares a strong bond with her neighbor and landlord Bill (David Morse, The Green Mile). He's facing money problems of his own, a secret they share.

The climax of the film comes when Selma's money is stolen, and she confronts the thief. What follows is both harrowing and deeply moving. I can't remember a movie that physically affected me as much as Dancer in the Dark. Not that there's anything gross or exploitive. Rather, the film is so passionate and visceral I literally had trouble standing or composing myself after the credits rolled.

The Cannes Film Festival has made a habit in recent of years of giving its Best Actor awards to non-professionals; but, in this case, its honoring of Bjork is fully deserved. She gives a performance that is both perfectly modulated and yet filled with moments of extraordinary mourning and expressive joy. When she sings and dances through her musical numbers (the score of which she composed), Bjork radiates with life. When she has a quiet conversation with Kathy or Bill, I found myself leaning forward in communion.

The rest of the cast is very strong. French mainstay Deneuve makes the transition to English flawlessly. Even her accent seems to facilitate her character. Morse, who was one of the genuine bright spots in _The Green Mile_, is fabulous as a man struggling to be both husband and friend. And Stormare is great as the slightly retarded man who won't take Selma's 'no' for an answer.

Lars Von Trier is clearly hoping to make a large artistic statement with Dancer in the Dark. The film opens with a gorgeous rendition of the overture. Apparently, the movie's North American distributors have seen fit to add a subtly shifting series of colors, while the rest of the world will listen to the movie in the darkness of the theater. In either case, just having an overture points to the movie's lofty intentions. 

Furthermore, Von Trier's use of the amateurish Sound of Music production is an interesting counterpoint to his own fascination with "unprofessional" camerawork. It's as if he is reminding us that there's a difference between things that don't look right because they're poorly done and things that don't look right for a purpose.

There are numerous other themes that Dancer in the Dark explores--immigration, the conflict between new and old, the role of music in both life and melodramas and, of course, the act of seeing--but none of these overshadow the intensely dramatic story that Von Trier is telling. In this way, Dancer in the Dark is a far better movie than his earlier Breaking the Waves. There, Von Trier's obsession with religious imagery and need to exalt his heroine often undermined the narrative. While both of those fixations come up again in Dancer, they serve to propel the tale rather than slow it down.

My friend Garth mentioned that Dancer in the Dark is a movie you either want to see twice or walk out of the first time. To be honest, though, I'm not sure why anyone would want to walk out of this compelling picture. Either Dancer in the Dark is a great movie or I've become overly fascinated with the unusual. Or maybe both. 

J. Robert Parks 10/23/2000

As always but particularly in the case of Dancer, I'm interested in your reactions to both the film and the review. Please send any comments or criticisms to jrobert@ccm.net. Thanks for your time.