The House That Jack Built

I have a proposal for those who have not yet seen 'The House That Jack Built', Lars von Trier's latest film (2018). Try to forget who the director is. I know it's not easy, because we are dealing with a person and a personality who provokes and shocks, who seeks and attracts scandals and who knows that advertising is best when it's bad. My opinion, after watching this film to which the 2018 Cannes Film Festival scheduled only a premiere out of competition, is that the attitudes and reactions triggered by this film are much more extreme than the film itself. It is a dissection and a psychological analysis of a serial killer, developed with effusion over two and a half hours of screening, but I did not find in this film anything that would shock me more than what I experienced for example at the screenings of 'The Silence of the Lambs' or 'Zodiac' and the graphic visual details do not exceed what we saw in the countless films in the series 'Scream', 'Halloween' or 'Elm Street', not to mention the violent and psychological intensity of the films of Tarantino, Lanthimos or von Trier himself. Whoever manages to separate this film from the advertising shell of the image that the director is trying to build to himself will have many reasons for cinematic satisfaction.

Von Trier assumes in 'The House That Jack Built' the risk of describing five episodes of the blood and corpse-laden journey of a serial killer. At one point, Jack, the hero of the film, played by Matt Dillon, confesses to his future victim that he committed 60 murders and is about to commit the 61st. One of the messages of the film may be that one should believe the statements of those who confess to criminal inclinations and bloody sins. Why is von Trier a special case? Other directors who have approached such themes and characters have not faced similar dangers, but von Trier has made enough other extreme films (but also some sublime ones) as well as shocking statements, so that when he speaks evil we may be tempted to believe him. Jack's travel partner in the film is most of the time a voiceover borrowed from Bruno Ganz, that of a character named Verge, who receives Jack's confessions and forces him to look for the roots of the deeds he commits. Is there any possible justification? Is there any other alternative end to this journey than in one of the hottest circles of Hell?

Matt Dillon succeeds to create in 'The House That Jack Built' one of the best roles of his career confirming the statistics that make the roles of psychotic criminals career peaks for the actors who play them. Bruno Ganz - in one of his last roles, he would die less than a year after the premiere of this film - creates an excellent counter-character in Verge, and the use of off-screen dialogue between the two is in this case perfectly justified. Lars von Trier copiously uses the collage technique by inserting animation, sequences from his own films, documentary sequences (including with characters embodying the evil that Hitler and Mussolini) and musical sequences such as those with pianist Glenn Gould. The original music and the soundtrack belong to Víctor Reyes and the cinematography to Manuel Alberto Claro, the faithful director of cinematography of von Trier for more than a decade. The America described by von Trier (who has never visited the North American continent) is perfectly believable, the realism of the scenes amplifying the horror effect. The combination of sophisticated references, core dialogue, psychological analysis of the character on the one hand and his behaviour on the screen on the other hand can be confusing and shocking, but it is interesting and asks questions that seem legitimate to me about how evil can be represented on screen. Anyone who knows von Trier's films understands that he rarely compromises. This is not the case here either and in my opinion the balance is clearly positive.

That feeling, when you're expecting a great thriller about an intelligent psychopath, and you get a surprisingly accurate, but still egotistic social criticism, with Lars von Trier's inner demons in the middle.

I'm not a fan of von Trier to begin with. But this movie just got in to my mind really bad. Couldn't stop thinking about it. Was it good, was it bad, if I admit I liked it does that make me half insane? It's a movie that doesn't let go of it's viewers, even though they walk away. I had to pause several times, not because of its length but because the cruelty and sickening things and the anticipation of what was going to happen. But I always came back. I had to see what was coming.. Those ambivalent feelings stuck so hard.. Oh boy. Both disgusted and fascinated. I have to admit that I know feel like a horrible person for liking the movie. It was somewhat pretentious, but imo quite better done than Lynch.

Yes, you do think about LvT and what mindset he has to come up a movie like this. This movie just breaks all barriers. It is extreme. No wonder people walked out of the premiere. But it does have good actors, nice camera work, interesting scenery and a sensation of well done movie.

It's not a movie for a easily horrified audience. Perhaps it's best to watch it alone. And to say you didn't like it or maybe even that you never seen it.

The story follows Jack (Matt Dillon), a highly intelligent serial killer, over the course of 12 years, and depicts the murders that develop his inner madman.

Also starring - Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Sofie Gråbøl, Riley Keough, Jeremy Davies.

This doesn't happen often: I watched the whole movie, the two and a half hours of it, and still couldn't say whether I find it good or bad, or even whether I liked it or not. Didn't find it boring, that's for sure - although I wouldn't call it exciting either, exactly.

One reason are the short but vivid scenes of extreme violence, which make one take a mental step back from the experience, and even think about not writing a review at all. Just in case that some reader would think that I condone violence or something.

The second reason is, of course, Lars von Trier himself, the co-writer and director of this joint. He doesn't seem extreme in interviews, but when it comes to work, the notorious film-maker likes to provoke and divide audiences without hesitation.

And "The House That Jack Built" might just be one of his crowning achievements in that.

Critics are divided as well. Many see the movie as empty provocation, or just tedious. Some see it as a something more. One is certain: it's not a mainstream entertainment. Not only for the overall creepiness and length, but also for how it's been put together.

You see, Von Trier has been more interested in making a point than making a movie with audience-friendly flow or tempo.

Compared to the "regular" movies, there's no clear structure - yes, Jack's story is divided between five cases but what happens during each is never easily anticipated - or for how long.

This is one of those rare movies which keep you guessing for the most time, never knowing what can happen next.

Von Trier also doesn't try to build and hold suspense, like in a "normal" movie, especially the one about serial killers.

He may have even actively worked against letting us just watch and get carried away because there's so much narration during the whole thing - in fhe form of constant dialogue between Jack and his mysterious companion played by Bruno Ganz.

Maybe because of the spotaneousness and unpredicability of the central antihero, it somehow still works. I never found myself idling and bored. Even during the end-section that left me even quite puzzled, which was clearly the authors' intent.

What makes it all so provocative and divisive, then, you may ask. It's the constant narration or dialogue between the serial killer and his companion. They argue over different things, mainly whether killing can be considered as art, and what makes murder such a bad thing anyway.

At first glance, these may seem like a stupid questions, but there's more to these arguments than wish to break taboos or something. Von Trier has deeper thoughts on the matter, and he wishes to make the audience think along.

People will interpret Von Trier's intentions differently, which is surely part of his goal. I would summarize the central thesis that if art is an act of creation and self-expression, then artful killing can be art too (which it certainly is for the serial killer Jack).

And before you rush to claim that killing is bad, let's not forget that everybody is at least indirectly or partly responsible for certain amount of death around the world, from eating meat, or even buying it and then just throwing it away, to not taking an active stand against destroying the environment where we all live.

Von Trier goes on to discuss several connecting themes, such as how killing can be addiction and how most of the violence is somehow associated with only men.

But the most shocking parts are Jack's actual killings, especially some that I didn't believe the author would dare to include in this day and age of political correctness.

Then again, the director's own stance seems to be against killing, because it's never glorified which is rare in the movies indeed.

Some of these acts may be funny in their own horrible way but none is intended to make you feel this adrenalin-induced watching glee as in most action flicks. If a person gets shot, for example, there's nothing cool and visually captivating about it. One just drops down like a big bag of flour, and stays this way.

Having commented on all the "important" things about the production, I can't forget Matt Dillon giving a remarkable performance as our anti-hero.

Just like the movie's approach to killings, there is nothing show-offish about him work. He seems to have wholly immersed into this character which makes him just mesmerizing in its own quiet way.

Dillon's easy naturalness combined with the unpredictability of the character makes this a cinematic "bad guy" to remember, although there's little unforgettably cinematic about him per se.

"The House That Jack Built" is a movie quite unlike anything else that you can see in cinemas this year. Unless you and I visit very different kind of cinemas.

Anyway, don't approach without hard stomach. Von Trier is not for everybody, and has never been, especially his latest.

Lars Von Trier's 2018 film, "The House That Jack Built," transcends its surface narrative as a grimly comedic exploration of art and violence to serve as a potent dissection of its creator's own psyche.

The film's brutal story, punctuated by the existential musings of its titular character, Jack (Matt Dillon), serves as a conduit through which the filmmaker grapples with his own artistic impulses and the expectations levied upon him by society. To understand the film in its fullest context, one needs to delve deep into Von Trier's psyche and the broader tapestry of his own work.

Von Trier has been known for his controversial films, which often push the boundaries of societal norms and cinematic conventions. These are no casual forays into discomfort, but rather, they are systematic explorations of the human condition and the outer limits of behavior. At times, it seems as though Von Trier himself may benefit from psychoanalysis, if only to shed light on the psyche of the man who can create such unsettling masterpieces.

"The House That Jack Built," is not merely a tale about a serial killer; it is a study of a man who progressively pushes the boundaries of his art, mirroring Von Trier's own journey in filmmaking. Jack, initially an engineer, is bound by the constraints of his profession and societal norms, but he yearns for the freedom to be an architect, seeking to build a legacy for himself; something he can achieve through his own vision - in this instance, a house.

The pivotal moment in the film comes with the interjection of a sudden, transformative passion that sets Jack on a new path. It's a passion that steers Jack away from the norm, pushing him towards a path of greater personal significance - at least in his own eyes. This mirrors Von Trier's career, marked by a significant shift from mainstream narratives to pushing cinematic boundaries with films that provoke, challenge, and disturb.

Initially, Jack is depicted as a haphazard executioner, but as he grows more comfortable with his new 'craft,' his art becomes more daring, creative, and experimental. In a parallel manner, Von Trier's early pieces might have seemed less refined or unpredictable to some observers. However, as he honed his craft, experimented, trialed, and tests, he has developed a signature filmmaking style that consistently provokes intense responses from viewers.

In the end, Jack does indeed build a legacy, but not as he initially planned. His 'house' ends up being a collection of his monstrous deeds, a testament to his twisted artistic journey. Again, the parallels to Lars remain; His body of work, much like Jack's, has often been met with shock, controversy, and rejection. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, he continues to create, leaving an indelible mark on the world of cinema.

Von Trier's "The House That Jack Built" is thus not just a film about a murderer, but an exploration of the nature of art and the struggle of the artist. It is a deep dive into the mind of an individual who defies convention, providing a provocative commentary on the creative process and the artist's role in society. It is, in many ways, a self-portrait of Von Trier himself, who, like his protagonist Jack, continually tests the limits of his artistry, undeterred by societal perceptions.