From Law and Literature' To Law and Humanities': Transatlantic Dialogues On Film - The Case of Lars Von Trier
From Law and Literature' To Law and Humanities': Transatlantic Dialogues On Film - The Case of Lars Von Trier
1 The following is taken from Chapter 9, “Transatlantic Dialogues on Film: The Case of Lars
von Trier,” of my book, From Civil to Human Rights: Dialogues on Law and Humanities in the
United States and Europe (Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar, 2009).
Predictability (dramaturgy) has become the golden calf around which we dance. Having
the characters’ inner lives justify the plot is too complicated, and not “high art.” As never
before, the superficial action and the superficial movie are receiving all the praise.
Among the rules drawn up and confirmed by DOGME 95 are the following:
shooting must be done on location (rule no. 1), the camera must be hand-held
(rule no. 3), the film must not contain superficial action (murders, weapons,
etc. must not occur) (rule no. 6), and the director must not be credited (rule
no. 10). The first two DOGME films were The Celebration and The Idiots,
directed by Thomas Vinterberg and Lars von Trier, respectively – or so rumours
have it. True to Chastity Vow no. 10, the films do not specifically say so. Other
Dogme films have since followed. Even outside of Denmark, the concept of
Dogme seems to have caught on.
Why is this, one might ask – what has made DOGME 95 so popular? After
all, others have written and/or performed film manifestos before – the so-
called Oberhausen manifesto from 1962 comes to mind, for example, which
later came to play quite a role for German directors such as Rainer Werner
Fassbinder, Werner Herzog and Wim Wenders. Likewise, there is nothing new
about the ten rules – low budget movies are hardly a new and revolutionary
concept. The answer, as the foremost expert of von Trier and his movies in
Denmark, Professor Peter Schepelern points out, clearly lies elsewhere:
for the art of film to take in opposition to Hollywood’s expensive machinery – has become
an optimistic role model for film directors in smaller countries, stimulating especially for
younger artists.3
3 Peter Schepelern, Lars von Triers film. Tvang og befrielse (Lars von Trier’s Films: Obsession
and Liberation – Copenhagen: Rosinante, 2000), 224, 227 – this and later translations from
Schepelern’s book are my own.
4 Berndt Ostendorf, “Why is American popular culture so popular? A view from Europe,” in
American Studies in Scandinavia 34:1 (2002): 2.
War were very important cultural events,” Trier said during his work with the
Europe trilogy. “I’m obsessed with Germany … My movies show my obsession
with the universe of war. The ultimate stage for films and dreams.”5 This fasci-
nation is quite explicit in Europe (as well as in some of the work he did while
still a student at the Film School in Copenhagen). It is furthermore implicit in
The Element of Crime, which is set in a Germany faced with ruin, as well as in
the television production and later film, The Kingdom from 1994, whose Danish
title (Riget) is a nickname for the Danish national hospital (Rigshospitalet) in
Copenhagen where the action takes place, but also happens to be the direct
Danish translation of the German word ‘Reich’.
To a certain extent, Germany simply equals Europe in Trier’s mythology.
“For me … Germany is very important, because when we [Danes] look toward
Europe, we see Germany. Somehow, I especially relate Europe to Germany –
Europe being at one and the same time a threat and an almost enchanted
place.”6 In a press book from the late 1980s, Trier explained that what the three
films making up the Europe trilogy have in common is a particular theme: “An
idealistic person comes to a place that he cannot control. For me, the three
films mark an attempt to draft a big painting of Europe which will say a lot
about this continent.”7 This is a theme to which he would repeatedly return
later; in his ‘America trilogy’, as we shall see, the irony of the idealist who
wishes to do good but ends up doing just the opposite becomes even more
palpable. At this point, furthermore, the theme is used not only about a par-
ticular person, but also about that person’s country: the United States. In the
early films, it is presented against the background of a Europe that is crushed –
an old and tired continent full of brutality and crime.8
Trier’s next trilogy of films consists of Breaking the Waves (1996 – his
international breakthrough), The Idiots (1998 – his first Dogme film) and
Dancer in the Dark (2000). This trilogy is sometimes referred to as the ‘Golden
Heart trilogy’, because all three films – prominently featuring female charac-
ters who sacrifice themselves for others – are inspired by the children’s book,
Golden Heart. The book is a picture book which tells “the fairytale of the girl
who became a princess” – one of Trier’s favourite books as a child. The story
seems to have originated with the Brothers Grimm and their story, Die Stern-
taler, about an orphaned and poor little girl without a name – another German
influence on Trier’s work.9
First of all, I went to Cannes with Dancer in the Dark and I was criticized by some Ameri-
can journalists for making a film about the USA without ever having been there. This
provoked me because, as far as I can recall, they never went to Casablanca when they
made Casablanca. I thought that was unfair so I decided then and there that I would
make more films that take place in America. That was one thing.
The other thing that inspired him, he claims, was listening to “Pirate Jenny,”
the song by Bertolt Brecht from The Threepenny Opera. “It’s a very powerful
song and it has a revenge theme that I liked very much.”12 On the theme of
how and why a European observer of the US can take it upon himself to deal
with that country without having first visited it, Trier again waxed eloquent in
an interview with Danish TV from Cannes, May 23, 2003. This was right after
Dogville had premiered. The treatment the movie had received in the American
press was no more favourable than the one Dancer had received. Reviewing
the film for the magazine Vanity, Todd McCarthy had written, for example:
There is no escaping the fact that the entire point of Dogville is that von Trier has judged
America, found it wanting and therefore deserving of immediate annihilation. This is, in
short, his “J’accuse!” directed toward an entire nation. […]
The identification with Dogville and the United States is total and unambiguous, even
without the emphatically vulgar use of pointedly grim and grisly photographs of Depres-
sion-era have-nots and crime victims under the end credits, accompanied, as if it were
needed, by David Bowie’s “Young Americans.” Through his contrived tale of one mis-
treated woman, who is devious herself, von Trier indicts as being unfit to inhabit the
earth a country that has surely attracted, and given opportunity to, more people onto its
shores than any other in the history of the world. Go figure.13
To this sort of criticism from his American audience, Trier responded that
Americans might actually benefit from a movie such as his. It might give them
an impression about how their country is perceived from the outside. When
asked by the journalist from Danish TV interviewing him at Cannes in 2003,
what he knew about the US, he answered:
I know insanely much about America … partly because of television channels such as
your own, about eighty percent of what I get into my head is American. This is too much –
unreasonably much. To enter a foreign country with troops and occupy it is nothing by
comparison to the way in which we have let ourselves be occupied all these years. It
standardizes the cultural picture in a deeply idiotic way.
14 Lars von Trier, Interview with Danish Television, Cannes, May 23, 2003 – available on the
second CD (‘Added Value’) that comes with the Dogville DVD. My translation from the Danish.
15 Plot summary from the Internet Movie Database, available at http://www.imdb.com/title/
tt0342272/ – last visited on January 16, 2009.
16 Peter Schepelern, “Lidelse i allegorisk univers,” (Suffering in an allegorical universe), Ekko
20 (2003): 26–30. My translation from the Danish.
Dogville
Dogville is normally ‘read’ as an allegory – or as a parable. The didactic or
parable-like quality of the movie is underscored, first of all by the stylized
universe which never lets us forget that we are watching a representation of
something (as already mentioned), but also by the role of the narrator who
constantly comments on what is going on, and by the fact that the movie does
not take place in the present, but instead during the Depression. The film itself
‘knows’ that it is an allegory or an “illustration”, as one of the main characters,
Tom, mentions several times.
Choosing to “illustrate” can lead to certain problems. The result can seem
too constructed and puppet-like. At the same time, though, it can signal artistic
skill and an aspiration to aim at something ‘higher’.17 Both are the sorts of
things that European critics love Trier for – his allegories are open to a whole
range of different interpretations – but that American critics hate him for. Wav-
ing the flag of ‘high art’ and criticizing the US in the process (without ever
having set foot in the country), Trier stirs up a lot of American disdain for
Europe.
I ‘read’ Dogville as an allegory of morality – human or personal, but also
national morality. As the narrator informs us at the very beginning, the people
of Dogville are basically good and decent people. When Grace (played by
Nicole Kidman) arrives on their doorstep, however, she brings with her the
outside world and its problems. Running away from a team of gangsters –
headed, as it turns out by her own father (played by James Caan) – Grace
needs shelter. With some encouragement from Tom (played by Paul Bettany),
the self-appointed town philosopher and spokesman, the little community
agrees to hide her and in return, Grace agrees to work for them. But then,
when a police search for Grace sets in, the people of Dogville want to get more
out of harbouring poor Grace. They make her do all kinds of chores for them –
chores which even include being raped by several of the men – and Grace
learns the hard way that in this town, goodness is only skin-deep. When moral
choices have to be made – when the townspeople decide what to do with
Grace, and when Grace herself gets the chance to revenge herself at the very
end – the choices made are not happy ones. The townspeople eventually turn
in Grace to the gangsters, and Grace decides to have her revenge over them –
in a big way.
In one of the most interesting scenes toward the end of the movie, we
follow a conversation between Grace and her gangster father concerning the
nature of human beings. Grace finds it hard to cope with her father’s strong
conviction that human beings are petty and evil when they get the chance,
and for a while it looks as if she is about to follow in the footsteps of Bess and
Selma in her willingness to forgive and endure all. However, after having taken
a walk, she changes her mind, and the film ends in an orgy of shooting and
killing which clearly shows that this is not – at least not fully – a Dogme film
(according to rule number 6).
A sort of trial between good and evil is taking place right there in the car
as Grace and her father (relatively calmly) discuss the issue of human nature.
At the beginning of her stay, Grace herself had been the object of a people’s
court of sorts. Before a jury – not of 12, but of 15, and not of her peers, as it
turns out – it was decided that she could stay in Dogville. Trier is playing upon
one of the most well-known of American genres, the courtroom-drama. He is
doing so even more explicitly in Dancer, of course – where we get one of the
most interesting courtroom scenes ever presented in film. Law literally goes
pop here18 as Trier is using one of the most American of genres, the musical,
to criticize the American legal system and the death penalty. Why? – because
he knows very well – if only from watching all the courtroom dramas that are
shown on Danish television – that the American is a highly legalized culture,
and that, in fact, if you want to get to the deepest layers of the American creed,
you need only look to the national preoccupation with the rule of law.
The original outline of The Element of Crime talked about a “futuristic
crime story with religious undertones,”19 just as the inspiration for The King-
dom was American crime series such as N.Y.P.D. and Barry Levinson’s Homi-
cide.20 In a number of interviews, Trier has made it clear, moreover, that the
major frame of reference for his creative work are other films rather than works
of literature. When asked by Bo Green Jensen about the importance for Dogville
of works such as Thornton Wilder’s Our Town (1938) and Sherwood Andersen’s
Winesburg, Ohio (1919), for example, Trier answered: “OK, I am not that well-
read. I have read some Steinbeck which I found very amusing. And then I have
seen a few plays, A Streetcar Named Desire… Oh yes, and then I have also read
some Mark Twain…”21
18 This reference is to Richard K. Sherwin, When Law Goes Pop: The Vanishing Line Between
Law and Popular Culture (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 2000).
19 Thomas Alling, “Sightseeing with the Holy Ghost,” [1984] in Jan Lumholdt ed., Lars von
Trier Interviews (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2003), 25.
20 Schepelern, Lars von Triers film, 174.
21 Bo Green Jensen, interview with Lars von Trier in Euroman, April 2003. My translation from
the Danish.
While there are exceptions – the revenge theme of Dogville being inspired
by Brecht’s Treepenny Opera, as we saw above, and the two different portrayals
of Grace in Dogville and Manderlay, respectively, owing a lot to both the Mar-
quis de Sade and The Story of O by Pauline Réage – Trier’s world is primarily
the world of pictures, the visual world of film and television. As he said to the
journalist from Danish TV, about eighty percent of those pictures originate in
the US and a good many of those pictures from which he feels that he knows
“insanely much about the US” are pictures that have some connection with law
and legal themes – those pictures that interest law and humanities scholars.
Dogville is more than an allegory of human morality. Trier is also comment-
ing on national American morality here. To the rest of the world, America
presents itself as more moral than other nations and hence as more deserving
of power. It has earned the right to be hegemonic and must never yield its
sovereignty, or its overwhelming military and economic power. We know from
countless surveys – Ziauddin Sardar and Merryl Wyn Davies’ international
bestseller, Why Do People Hate America? from 2002 being one example22 – that
nothing galls non-Americans more than American moral hypocrisy. Saying one
thing and doing something completely different, playing morally better than
everyone else is something which non-Americans find it very hard to stomach.
And this is the sort of moral hypocrisy that Trier also criticizes. In the interview
with Danish TV, in which he commented that “the moment you have great
strength, you also have a moral obligation to use it in the right way,” he contin-
ues to say the following:
[Americans] are given choices to make like the rest of us. These choices may run counter
to common sense or ethics. And they do. It’s not their fault, and not at all the fault of
their nationality. But there might be something in that country’s policies that means that
it’s easier for them to be put in such a scrape.
Manderlay
Interestingly enough, Manderlay did not draw as much negative American
commentary when it was released as Dogville had. As Trier himself sees it, this
may have something to do with the fact that the action in Manderlay revolves
around the issue of race:
22 Ziauddin Sardar and Merryl Wyn Davies, Why Do People Hate America? (Cambridge: Icon
Books, 2002).
I think it is because [American journalists and critics] are so enormously afraid of that
race conflict that they simply shut up. It was funny because at that press conference [at
Cannes], not a single critical question was asked. It was the easiest, most peaceful press
conference that I have ever been to. I am completely sure that is the reason why. They
were just so pacified by Danny Glover’s presence, but also by the whole problematic. You
cannot criticize it without getting in too deep.23
Even more so than the ‘first’ Grace in Dogville, Grace in Manderlay (played by
Bryce Dallas Howard, replacing Nicole Kidman) is the personification of the
“idealistic person [who] comes to a place that [s]he cannot control,” mentioned
in a press book from the late 1980s. Though well-meaning, she is both ill-
informed and acts without thinking. And this time, the criticism being more
precise in its use of race relations in the US as a framework, Trier’s comment
on American wishes ‘to make the world safe for democracy’ is more effective.
He hits where it hurts the most and where the moral hypocrisy is the most
palpable.
With Manderlay Trier continues the saga of Grace begun in Dogville. The
year is 1933; having left the Rocky Mountains behind, Grace is now traveling
through the South with her gangster father (played by Willem Dafoe, replacing
James Caan). In Alabama, they happen upon the plantation of Manderlay at
which, some seventy years after it has been abolished in the rest of the country,
slavery still exists. The black people at Manderlay are in servitude, governed
by an odd set of rules known as ‘Mam’s Law.’ Grace is shocked – having
recently herself been held in something resembling enslavement – and she
decides to stay on at Manderlay together with some of her father’s gangsters
whom he has graciously allowed her to ‘keep.’ With their help, when Mam
dies, she takes over. One of her first acts is to abolish Mam’s Law, though she
holds on to it instead of burning it like Mam had asked her to do on her death
bed. Then, one of the gangsters being the lawyer Joseph who knows a lot
about contracts, she has a contract set up which makes of the former slaves
shareholders in Manderlay. Grace had specifically asked for Joseph to stay on
at Manderlay with her, apparently intending her dreams of introducing democ-
racy to Manderlay and its inhabitants to have a solid foundation in contract
law. She soon learns, though, that bringing important change like that is nei-
ther as easy nor as obvious as it at first seems.
Grace’s attempts at helping the former slaves reach freedom and democ-
racy meet with one obstacle after another. Wilhelm, the house slave (played
by Danny Glover), repeatedly tells her that the slaves are simply not yet ready
23 Bo Green Jensen, “Den anden Grace” (The other Grace), Weekendavisen, June 3, 2005. My
translation from the Danish.
to live in freedom – and that even if they were, the rest of American society is
not ready to receive them. Events at Manderlay sometimes seem to prove Wil-
helm right, but just as often it is Grace’s own lack of knowledge and unwilling-
ness to listen and learn that lead to problems. One crucial moment occurs
when Grace tells the former slaves to cut down some of the trees in Mam’s
garden (the ‘Old Lady’s Garden,’ as they call it) in order to get wood for the
repair of their run-down houses. As it turns out, these trees performed a very
important task; they acted as a windbreak to prevent dust storms from damag-
ing the crops and the houses at Manderlay. When the next dust storm arrives,
Grace learns the hard way that her way of doing things, well-intentioned as it
was, has only brought misery on everyone at Manderlay.
This is where the parallels to the current situation in Iraq and Afghanistan
as well to certain other less successful foreign policy decisions in America’s
past are most obvious, but throughout we sense a more generalized critique
of imperialism. Grace here becomes a modern-day version of Graham Greene’s
quiet American, Alden Pyle.24 Trier also treats us to a satirical comment on
democracy, American style, when he has Grace institute a system of town-hall
meetings where ballots are taken on everything from less important issues
such as when a person can tell a joke to a much more important issue such
as the death penalty. Grace literally gets away with murder, as she kills old
Wilma who has stolen the food of a dying child – because it has been decided
at one of the communal meetings that Wilma must be punished. “You said so
many times that we’re entitled to it,” as the father of the dead child, whose
food was taken by Wilma, puts it; he is referring to Grace’s numerous ‘lessons’
to Manderlay’s inhabitants on justice. Another of these lessons was about the
importance of unleashing one’s anger.
And through it all runs a number of loaded racial aspects. Like Mam and
her family, Grace is white, and by taking over from Mam, she perpetuates
exactly the kind of racial relationship that had been the dominant one in slave
states. In the end, of course, Wilhelm and the other blacks want to force her
to become a new Mam – a final meeting having been held and a final ballot
having been cast concerning the need for a new Mam. In this ballot, Grace
‘won,’ her teaching about the importance of ballots and consensus once more
coming back to haunt her. And in another ironic racial twist, when Grace feels
the need to penalize Mam’s family members for not having learned enough
about race, their faces are painted brown just like those of the white actors
playing blacks in the old minstrel shows. In addition, there are Grace’s sexual
fantasies about and intercourse with Timothy, who turns out not to belong to
the category of the proud ‘nigger’ (category I in Mam’s Law) after all, but
instead to category VII – the pleasing ‘nigger,’ the chameleon-type ‘nigger’
who will do anything to please those around him. As it turns out, it is Timothy
who has gambled away the money made on the cotton harvest. His fellow
inhabitants at Manderlay decide that he must be punished and in one of the
last scenes of the film, he is ready to be flogged. When he calls out to Grace,
“aren’t you forgetting something: You made us,” she vents her sexual frustra-
tion and anger at him for not being the proud, Category I ‘nigger’ whom she
first took him to be by doing that flogging herself, thus effectively going back
on every one of her former principles. It is at this moment she realizes that
“Manderlay too was a place the world would be better off without.”
We are only about six minutes into the film when Mam’s Law is first intro-
duced. This happens in the scene where Mam lies dying and asks Grace to
burn it. Grace tells her that she will not do so as everything must now come
out into the open. “The Constitution can be found in any courthouse,” she
says, making an interesting comparison between the two legal documents. As
things start to go wrong, Grace finds herself drawn to Mam’s Law. She consults
it and finds that it contains rules for running the plantation, but also “some-
thing strangely familiar,” a table with descriptions of categories of blacks (“nig-
gers”). She does not read it quite carefully enough, though; if she had, she
would have been forewarned about Timothy’s true nature. Next to his name,
Mam – or, as it turns out, Wilhelm – had written: “Caution, diabolically
clever.”
As Grace learns toward the very end of the film, it is indeed Wilhelm, and
not Mam, who had written Mam’s Law – a fact that Wilhelm explains by saying
that “we were not quite ready yet… I wrote that law for the good of everyone.”
The new anti-slavery statutes “terrified us,” he continues, and so he and Mam
decided that the prolongation of slavery was the lesser evil. Mam’s Law
“allowed slaves to complain about their masters,” for example, to blame their
masters rather than to have to take responsibility themselves for whatever went
wrong at the plantation.
Trier’s criticism of American race relations and of the death penalty (mak-
ing us think back to Dancer) is furthermore highlighted by the photos shown
after the film has ended. Accompanied by David Bowie’s ‘Young Americans,’
these photos of white violence against blacks and black poverty are a very
effective and highly critical comment on the US civil rights era. And when, in
between the many photos that show the appalling conditions under which
blacks used to live in the US, we come across photos that point not only to the
activities of the Ku Klux Klan, to the practice of lynching and of the death
penalty, but also to the American involvement in Vietnam, the message is clear:
if the US cannot keep its own house in order, it has no business presenting
itself as a moral force for good in the world. Among the final photos are one
of Abraham Lincoln – the president who issued the Emancipation Proclama-
tion in 1863 and promoted the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the
Constitution, officially abolishing slavery – and another of George W. Bush,
praying. Again, the implication is clear: until this day, the Constitution’s prom-
ise of equal rights and respect for everyone has not been realized; in fact,
under (the praying) George W. Bush, the US may even have regressed.
As was the case with the photos shown at the end of Dogville, several of
the photos shown in Manderlay are taken from ‘American Pictures’ by Trier’s
fellow Dane, Jakob Holdt.25 For years, Holdt has traveled the world with his
pictures and accompanying lectures on the United States. With their exposure
of the social problems in the U.S., ‘American Pictures’ somewhat resemble
those of another Dane, the muckraker Jacob Riis. His work on How the Other
Half Lives (1890) is viewed as one of the most influential works on social
reform in the US and is mandatory reading in any American studies course on
the period it covers and exposes. What Trier takes from both is the moral
indignation toward poverty – or, to put it in human rights terms, toward the
lack of economic, social and cultural rights in American society. In terms of
economic, social and cultural rights, no less than in terms of civil and political
rights, in the opinion of these Europeans, the US ought to be ashamed of itself.
Trier does not directly use such human rights rhetoric. The inspiration for
Manderlay comes from Jean Paulhan’s epilogue to the erotic novel, The Story
of O, published in 1954, which tells the story of a group of freed slaves in 1838
in Barbados, who return to their former master and ask him to take them back
as slaves. When he refuses, they kill him and his family, move back into the
plantation and start living as slaves again. The film’s name is a reference to
the mansion in the old Hitchcock film, Rebecca (1940), which is based on the
novel by British author Daphne du Maurier. Trier thus plays many intertextual
games with us in this film as he has done in his previous films. At the same
time, however, he succeeds, by using Mam’s Law as a frame of reference from
beginning to end as well as by literally framing his story by photos that expose
some of the worst problems of poverty and violence, especially as these relate
to race, in modern America, in producing an artistic and visual commentary
which ‘reads,’ in some ways, like a human rights document.
Concluding Remarks
So, is Trier anti-American – are his American critics right to be mad at him?
In some ways he is. And yet, with Dancer in the Dark, Dogville, and Manderlay,
he has stepped into the footsteps of countless other European intellectuals,
writers and artists who have tried to make sense of America, and who have
found that they have adopted a kind of double nationality. The Danish writer
and poet Dan Turèll would refer to himself as an “American-Dane,” for exam-
ple: “In one way or another I always did feel Danish, but as if Danish meant
Mom and Dad, and I was American, as if that was the extended family, the
common denominator that included everybody you knew,” he explained about
his own experience in an essay from 1976. Denmark was in a position of cul-
tural dependency toward the US, but Turèll never saw this colonial relationship
as repressive. “I like Denmark, and I like the United States, but all things
considered I think that the United States has given me more.”26
The sort of anti-Americanism that Trier exhibits in his films is first and
foremost a cultural criticism – a criticism that is founded in his irritation as
an artist at the sort of cultural monopoly the world’s remaining superpower is
and has been for the past many years exerting. Culture being the money maker
that it is, and cultural matters being as politicized as they currently are, Trier’s
cultural criticism inevitably also becomes a political statement. He cannot vote
in the US, as he once said in an interview, but what he can do is to comment
artistically and critically on the country that has become a cultural and politi-
cal hegemon.
His Dogme project was, in part, a reaction against the power of Hollywood
to produce lavishly expensive films that become commercial successes and in
the process also succeed in setting a particular cultural agenda. It was a purifi-
cation project or getting-back-to-basics project that would hopefully bring
about a new attitude toward filmmaking. It is really only one of his films, The
Idiots, which is, strictly speaking, a Dogme-film. But the Dogme rules have
played a part in most of the films that followed. Both Dogville and Manderlay
have a strictness or theatrical quality about them. With their white lines drawn
on the floor and their stylized universe, which never lets us forget that we are
watching a representation of something, they recall several of the Dogme rules.
The founding in 1992 of the film company Zentropa together with producer
Peter Aalbæk Jensen was another conscious reaction against the sort of grow-
ing monopolistic control over the use of artistic representations by market
26 Dan Turèll, quoted in Ole Bech-Petersen, Encounters: Danish Literary Travel in the United
States (unpublished dissertation, the University of Southern Denmark, March 2000), 25.
in order to help the survival, in this world of more and more result-oriented and audience-
seeking television stations and film institutes, of the elitist film and in order to stem the
tide of these tendencies, Zentropa has decided to set up the FOUR-EYES FOUNDATION…
The foundation’s money will be distributed by film instructor Lars von Trier personally,
who will assess the films in question. Financial support will be given to films which to a
considerable degree explore the language and/or contents of films.28
Though playing, in Breaking and Dancer, with the genre of melodrama and
certain kitchy elements and enjoying the fact that at last, his films seemed to
win the approval not just of film critics, but also of a wider audience, Trier
now seems back at his old game: to create – and to support – films that are
not made for general consumption. Whether or not his own elitist films to
come will be European commentaries on the US we cannot know. Rumours
have it that he does not intend, at this point, to finish his America trilogy. And
with Antichrist, which premiered at Cannes in the spring of 2009, he does seem
to have moved on to other film turf.
In addition to a critical commentary on and wish to counter certain tenden-
cies within international film, Dogme 95 and its “vow of chastity,” which reads,
in the words of an American critic, “like a cross between Moses’ Ten Command-
At one level the Dogme rules emerged from a desire to submit to the authority and the
rules I was never given during my humanistic, cultural-leftist upbringing. At another level
they express the desire to make something quite simple. In a normal film production you
are hampered by having to make decisions about and control an infinite number of things
such as filters and colors. The Dogme95 rules basically say that you mustn’t do any of
that.30
The Dogme rules are – just like in a religion – impossible to abide by, but they provide
some guidelines, and I needed some of that at the time. I needed to lose control, and in
that way I was very egotistical in inventing these Dogme rules. Yes it’s true, they’re pretty
tough to abide by, but that makes it a scream to make the film …31
On the one hand, what interests Trier is what happens when some person or
some nation gets a lot of power and control. Choices have to be made and in
Trier’s universe, the choices made are rarely happy ones. On the other hand,
we also meet in his films people who do not want to have control but wish,
instead, to sacrifice themselves for others – like the women in the Golden
Heart trilogy – or to avoid the possible anxiety of having too much freedom –
like the slaves at Manderlay. For these latter, there is safety in rules, and just
like Dogme gave Trier a necessary set of rules to abide by at a time when he
needed such rules, so Mam’s Law provides easy-to-follow guidelines. The prob-
lem is, of course, that for most of us – including Trier himself – there is a
tension between the wish/need to follow and to break rules, to give up and to
seek autonomy. At various times in our lives and for a variety of reasons, we
may even alternate between the need to seek reassurance in a group or a larger
community and the need to assert our individuality and opposition to such a
group or a community and its values.
29 Shari Roman, “Lars von Trier: The Man Who Would Be Dogme,” in Lumholdt ed., Lars von
Trier Interviews: 135.
30 Peter Øvig Knudsen, “The Man Who Would Give Up Control,” in Lumholdt ed., Lars von
Trier Interviews: 118.
31 Lumholdt ed., Lars von Trier Interviews, 127.