This was meant to be a review of Lars Von Trier’s Nymphomaniac.
Released in two parts in the U.S., my intention was to see both volumes back to
back in an attempt to recreate the intended experience as closely as possible.
The myriad versions of this film that exist across the globe make it nearly
impossible to know precisely what the director’s preferred cut is.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I can
report only that Nymphomaniac Vol. 1 is the first half of what looks to be a
stirring, epic character study of a woman who is acutely aware of her mania but
can neither change nor accept it. The first five minutes of Vol. 2 were intelligent
and introspective in a way that leaves me no doubt the conclusion will be
satisfying.
Alas, I am left unable to explore fully the
storytelling to which I had been so looking forward. For the first time in my
life, I walked out of the theater. Full disclosure, at the age of 5, I was so
bored by Grumpy Old Men, I harangued my father into leaving early to see Beethoven’s
2nd instead. I have since made peace with Grumpy Old Men and find it to be a
delightful romp.
As it turns out, I am not meant to attend Saturday
night showings of films. The Vol. 1 audience was bad enough. I suppose one
should expect a certain degree of immature laughter with a film that so frankly
discusses and depicts sex and sexuality. To be fair, there are moments of
humor, but it is by no means the wall-to-wall laugh fest the 7:40 p.m.
screening audience at the Landmark Sunshine in the East Village would have you
believe.
The 10:30 p.m. audience for Vol. 2, however,
immediately proved itself unbearable. Instantly, the laughter returned. This
time, it was accompanied by three young people – two seats from whom I had the
misfortune of sitting – who proceeded to heckle the film. I will not repeat what
was said, but suffice it to say, if you have an immature friend, you can
imagine. A request to cease the talking was denied, and finally, we were forced
to leave.
Kudos to the staff of the Landmark Sunshine, which
was understanding and amenable. We received a full refund for Vol. 2 and were
told there had been problems before with screenings of Nymphomaniac. This
leads to the larger point, which can be summed up ineloquently as: Who are these
people, and what is their deal?
Tolerating fellow patrons is among the few hazards
of being a cinema fan. As someone who holds the dark quietude of the theater
sacred, there is always an anxiety when I take my seat: What will this crowd be
like? Audiences are generally respectful of the social contract of the movie
theater. Those audience members who are not are often quieted by a polite request
for silence. But, as with any statistical model (as unscientific as this
discussion is), there are the outliers.
These are the people about whom I know nothing. I
do not understand the concept of paying $13 for a movie ticket and doing
everything possible to destroy the experience of going to the movies. I do not
understand the lack of respect for others who paid $13. But, maybe it is illogical.
There is not an explanation. I have no answers – only questions.
What, then, is the takeaway from this experience?
Is there a conclusion that can be drawn? Many people who have similar feelings
to mine – or who have other issues with an outing to the cinema – have stopped
going. Home systems are more capable than ever of approximating what it is like
to sit in the theater, particularly with surround sound, high-definition
screens, Blu-ray, etc. Yet, it will never be more than an approximation.
I started this blog not only as an appreciation of
movies but of going to movies. My favorite 10 seconds in the world are those
during which the lights go down and the picture comes up. That will not change.
I want to laugh with others. I want to cry in the dark next to others doing the
same. I want to shudder in fear and scream in terror with my fellow movie
lovers – and I want them to do the same with me. Maybe it is naïve of me still
to love those moments of shared empathy, but what could be more naïve than to
give ourselves over to two hours of fantasy?
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