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It is only slightly ironic that the founder of the Dogme movement--a movement that rejects all signs of Hollywood artifice--has made the most artificial movie of the year. But director Lars von Trier has never been one for following the rules. Anybody's rules, even his own.

The movie is entitled Dogville, and it's a three-hour tale that takes place in the titular town. A young woman named Grace (Nicole Kidman) is on the run from mysterious bad guys. She's befriended by a young man named Thomas Edison (Paul Bettany) who convinces the small village to take Grace in. At first, the townsfolk are leery, afraid that their protection might invite the wrong sort of visitors. But Grace soon proves her worth, as she goes from house to house performing whatever chores need doing. At Chuck and Vera's place (Stellan Skarsgard and Patricia Clarkson), she teaches the children. At Ben's, she helps clean up. And she visits the blind Mr. McKay (Ben Gazzara) just to sit and listen to his stories. She repeats the tasks every day, and soon Grace is a happy part of Dogville.

This being a Lars von Trier film, that happiness certainly can't last long. What's interesting, though, is how the weeds of disaster grow from such unnoticed seeds. The town is at first grateful for Grace's presence, happy to have her cheerful presence in their lives. But the guilt they feel for taking advantage of her misfortune only grows. Unable to alleviate the guilt through forgiveness or repentance, they transfer their guilt onto Grace, blaming her for their restive souls. Soon, they're demanding more and more of her, threatening to expose her to the menacing outsiders who are still looking for her. Even Tom, her hopeful suitor, insinuates that she owes him sexual favors for all the good he's done her.

This of course is not the first time that Lars von Trier has focused on a woman in travail (remember Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark). Indeed, that seems to be his only storytelling method. And as the movie passed the halfway point, I started to wonder if this was going to be another of his gut-wrenching torture chambers. But just when you think Lars is merely trotting out his obsessions, the movie does an about-face in an incredible finale. I won't give too much away, but let's just say that James Caan was born to play the part von Trier gives him. His final conversations with Kidman are haunting, illuminating, and mind-blowing, all at the same time. And no matter what you think of the final credit sequence, you can't deny it's a tour de force that hits the audience right between the eyes.

The same is true for Dogville's photography, as cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle achieves amazing results with simple lighting techniques. The background changes color depending on the action that's occurring. The usual stark black background will occasionally become a brilliant white (often during the town meetings) or a luminous blue. When Grace uncovers a window that looks out on the mountains, the deep orange lighting on her face reveals a profile of exquisite beauty. And at a moment of moral clarity, the high-contrast lighting reveals the ugly nature of Dogville's residents. I only wish that Von Trier would've shot everything on film, instead of the grainy digital video that he's fond of.

But even more than the lighting, Dogville's visual style is defined by its perceptive camera placements. The film opens with a view from overhead, as we see the town from God's perspective, and we'll occasionally return to that vantage point. Tight closeups bring us into the souls of the town's various characters. And then sometimes Von Trier will stand back and give a widescreen, "objective" look. In one stunning sequence, we see the entire town going about its business while a heinous crime is occurring. This is magnified by the fact that there are no walls or buildings, so what people keep behind closed doors is forcefully brought out into the light.

The set design is a clear reference to the seminal American play Our Town, which uses a blank stage and minimal props. Dogville also features a largely blank stage, with the outlines of people's houses drawn on what appears to be a chalkboard floor. Single pieces of furniture "decorate" each home, signifying the status of the people who live there. The storekeeper, played by Lauren Bacall, has a counter, where she keeps various items to sell; a family of seven has bunk beds; Tom has a writing desk, while his father has a rocking chair where he reads The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

This minimalist set is wonderfully evocative, reminiscent of a child's play set. But it also serves to focus our attention on the allegorical nature of the tale. In the middle of the town is a steeple with a bell, though the church below it doesn't exist. Indeed, religion seems to have been removed from Dogville. Periodically, Tom will call a meeting, in which he tries to encourage the largely blank audience in their moral development. But his ideas are drawn from empty philosophies instead of any religious or spiritual framework. The townsfolk, perhaps realizing the lack of a foundation in Tom's homilies, tune him out.

This moral bankruptcy is at the heart of von Trier's agenda. Whether you see Dogville as a largely theological or political film, it's impossible to escape its rigorous indictment of contemporary American culture. This has caused some critics to accuse von Trier of bad faith. My friend Garth saw the movie as merely another example of Europe's condescending disdain for the U.S. But I'd argue that often an outsider's perspective is exactly what's needed, to shake us out of our own complacency, even if the shots aren't exactly on-target (I still don't understand the references to Edison, Sawyer, or the Rocky Mountains). And it's not that Lars exempts himself from the critique. Tom is clearly a stand-in for the director himself, as he tries to find "illustrations" that will remind folk of what they've forgotten about their country, hopeful of writing a great book that will put himself on the map. And even Tom's relationship with Grace can be seen as the equivalent of von Trier's relationships with his leading ladies, as he manipulates her for his own design. So when Tom emerges as the movie's biggest hypocrite, Von Trier indicts himself.

The problem with all but the most elaborate allegories (think Pilgrim's Progress) is that it's impossible to account for every detail. So it is with Dogville. Those making the case for a largely theological reading (Grace as a Christ figure) will have trouble accounting for her relationship with her father. Those who see Grace as a stand-in for immigrants will have trouble explaining the James Caan character. But that lack of one-to-one equivalence makes Dogville an exhilarating ride, one that will inspire numerous late-night discussions and repeat viewings. Add in the brilliant ensemble acting (how nice to see Lauren Bacall and Philip Baker Hall again), Kidman's brave performance and John Hurt's marvelous line readings as the Narrator, and you have a masterpiece.  

J. Robert Parks  4/7/2004