Europa

That was the first thing that sprang to mind as I watched the closing credits to Europa make there was across the screen, never in my entire life have I seen a film of such technical genius, the visuals of Europa are so impressive that any film I watch in it's wake will only pale in comparison, forget your Michael Bay, Ridley Scott slick Hollywood cinematography, Europa has more ethereal beauty than anything those two could conjure up in a million years. Now I'd be the first to hail Lars von Trier a genius just off the back of his films Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark, but this is stupid, the fact that Europa has gone un-noticed by film experts for so long is a crime against cinema, whilst overrated rubbish like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Life is Beautiful clean up at the academy awards (but what do the know) Europa has been hidden away, absent form video stores and (until recently) any British TV channels.

The visuals in Europa are not MTV gloss; it's not a case of style over substance, its more a case of substance dictating style. Much like his first film The Element of Crime, von Trier uses the perspective of the main character to draw us into his world, and much like Element, the film begins with the main character (or in the case of Europa, we the audience) being hypnotized. As we move down the tracks, the voice of the Narrator (Max von Sydow) counts us down into a deep sleep, until we awake in Europa. This allows von Trier and his three cinematographers to pay with the conventions of time and imagery, there are many scenes in Europa when a character in the background, who is in black and white, will interact with a person in the foreground who will be colour, von Trier is trying to show us how much precedence the coloured item or person has over the plot, for instance, it's no surprise that the first shot of Leopold Kessler (Jean-marc Barr) is in colour, since he is the only character who's actions have superiority over the film.

The performances are good, they may not be on par with performances in later von Trier films, but that's just because the images are sometimes so distracting that you don't really pick up on them the first time round. But I would like to point out the fantastic performance of Jean-Marc Barr in the lead role, whose blind idealism is slowly warn down by the two opposing sides, until he erupts in the films final act. Again, muck like The Element of Crime, the film ends with our hero unable to wake up from his nightmare state, left in this terrible place, with only the continuing narration of von Sydow to seal his fate. Europa is a tremendous film, and I cant help thinking what a shame that von Trier has abandoned this way of filming, since he was clearly one of the most talented visual directors working at that time, Europa, much like the rest of his cinematic cannon is filled with a wealth of iconic scenes. His dedication to composition and mise-en-scene is unrivalled, not to mention his use of sound and production design. But since his no-frills melodramas turned out to be Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark then who can argue, but it does seems like a waste of an imaginative talent. 10/10

Von Trier once explained how he created such strong involvement from the viewer with his movies by placing his movie world in about the middle of the real world and the imagined world. So as viewers we think we watch a "true" story while in fact we are thoroughly manipulated, often to the point that the movie works disturbing (Dancer in the Dark) or painful (The Idiots/ Idioterne). Of course the Dogme-films acted only as a vehicle for this theory (besides creating some welcome spotlight on Von Trier).

The story is typical for Von Trier: our hero is idealistic, seems to balance his relations with everybody else, but soon becomes the victim of the problems others have created in the past for themselves. The idealist inevitably has to reject society in order to stay idealistic and becomes the terrorist. Mankind is spoiled and purity only leads to (self-)destruction. (These elements were also very omnipresent in Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark.) The movie is also full of cynical (even humorous) undertones about the role of the Germans and Americans in post-war Germany.

As a technical achievement the movie is wonderfully designed: shifting and fading washed-out colors, screen overlays, action on different overlays (with the shooting of the soon-to-be mayor as the most interesting). In this movie we can see how good Von Trier's handles film as a technical medium. In his later works he seems to step down from this (as if he is not longer interested in technical achievements because they become so easily available).

Zentropa has much in common with The Third Man, another noir-like film set among the rubble of postwar Europe. Like TTM, there is much inventive camera work. There is an innocent American who gets emotionally involved with a woman he doesn't really understand, and whose naivety is all the more striking in contrast with the natives.

But I'd have to say that The Third Man has a more well-crafted storyline. Zentropa is a bit disjointed in this respect. Perhaps this is intentional: it is presented as a dream/nightmare, and making it too coherent would spoil the effect.

This movie is unrelentingly grim--"noir" in more than one sense; one never sees the sun shine. Grim, but intriguing, and frightening.

Released as Zentropa in North America to avoid confusion with Agniezska Holland's own Holocaust film Europa Europa, this third theatrical feature by a filmmaker who never ceases to surprise, inspire or downright shock is a bizarre, nostalgic, elaborate film about a naive American in Germany shortly following the end of WWII. The American, named Leo, doesn't fully get what he's doing there. He has come to take part in fixing up the country since, in his mind, it's about time Germany was shown some charity. No matter how that sounds, he is not a Nazi sympathizer or so much as especially pro-German, merely mixed up. His uncle, who works on the railroad, gets Leo a job as a helmsman on a sleeping car, and he is increasingly enmeshed in a vortex of 1945 Germany's horrors and enigmas.

This progression starts when Leo, played rather memorably by the calm yet restless actor Jean-Marc Barr, meets a sultry heiress on the train played by Barbara Sukowa, an actress with gentility on the surface but internal vigor. She seduces him and then takes him home to meet her family, which owns the company which manufactures the trains. These were the precise trains that took Jews to their deaths during the war, but now they run a drab day-to-day timetable, and the woman's Uncle Kessler postures as another one of those good Germans who were just doing their jobs. There is also Udo Kier, the tremendous actor who blew me away in Von Trier's shocking second film Epidemic, though here he is mere scenery.

Another guest at the house is Eddie Constantine, an actor with a quiet strength, playing a somber American intelligence man. He can confirm that Uncle Kessler was a war criminal, though it is all completely baffling to Leo. Americans have been characterized as gullible rubes out of their element for decades, but little have they been more blithely unconcerned than Leo, who goes back to his job on what gradually looks like his own customized death train.

The story is told in a purposely uncoordinated manner by the film's Danish director, Lars Von Trier, whose anchor is in the film's breathtaking editing and cinematography. He shoots in black and white and color, he uses double-exposures, optical effects and trick photography, having actors interact with rear-projected footage, he places his characters inside a richly shaded visceral world so that they sometimes feel like insects, caught between glass for our more precise survey.

This Grand Jury Prize-winning surrealist work is allegorical, but maybe in a distinct tone for every viewer. I interpret it as a film about the last legs of Nazism, symbolized by the train, and the ethical accountability of Americans and others who appeared too late to salvage the martyrs of these trains and the camps where they distributed their condemned shiploads. During the time frame of the movie, and the Nazi state, and such significance to the train, are dead, but like decapitated chickens they persist in jolting through their reflexes.

The characters, music, dialogue, and plot are deliberately hammy and almost satirically procured from film noir conventions. The most entrancing points in the movie are the entirely cinematographic ones. Two trains halting back and forth, Barr on one and Sukowa on another. An underwater shot of proliferating blood. An uncommonly expressive sequence on what it must be like to drown. And most metaphysically affecting of all, an anesthetic shot of train tracks, as Max von Sydow's voice allures us to hark back to Europe with him, and abandon our personal restraint.

By watching this movie I discovered an artist that I waited too long to discover. Playing with multiple cinematographic tricks Trier not only bring us back in history but he also adopt the style that movie had in the time where the action is depicted. Also, with the rear screen projection, Trier had the chance to give his movie a unique depth of field and by the way to mix color and B&W and therefore make a magical masterpiece that can be appreciated by the dumb movie eaters that most of us are.