Why aunt steelbreaker

Justine has elements of Camus' "Stranger", or could easily have been a character in Sartre's "Roads to Freedom". Malraux could have written this script.

Should be shown at midnight on the V. Equinox followed by "The Rapture". The Knight here John, not Michael chose the dark homely sister in the inversion of the archetypal legend. The wedding reception sequence is a parody of Cimino's "Deer Hunter" reception and Copola's etc.

Justine's conclusion about life on Earth cannot be told to anyone--it has to be realized. Someone else who makes interesting observations about film likes your comments and refers their readers to you with a link. Hi, thanks for the heads-up.

The popularity of this article, given how short it is, has been rather strange; I blame Google. It finally motivated me to do some revisions and even make a sort of sequel. I was glad to be led to Balthazar. Not brilliant like MaskofGod, but a decent writer with some clever remarks.

Link to your "sort of sequel" please? And thanks for your insights! I'll say it again: you're amazing. I'm adding your post to my list. These are trending ideas. Justine leaves her guests, and goes out alone, taking a golf cart—after riding to the golf course, she tears her wedding dress getting out of the cart—and she squats staring at the stars.

Justine returns to a simple, tender speech given in her honor by the groom, Michael Alexander Skarsgard ; and they begin to dance. When Justine insists on putting her young nephew to bed, she too begins to sleep, and wakes to describe to Claire a nightmare—gray matter clinging to her wedding dress, holding her in place. Justine decides to take a bath; and the crowd waits for her to come down and cut the wedding cake.

An angry John goes to get her and her equally delinquent mother—and the wedding planner Udo Kier complains that Justine has ruined his wedding and that he will not look at her; and subsequently, bitterly and amusingly, when the wedding planner passes Justine, or she him, the wedding planner shields his face.

However, the cake is cut, and the groom Michael is attentive, loving, supportive. He shows her a photograph of plot of land with apple trees that he has bought for them, thinking this will offer her some serenity and security. They begin to kiss and undress, and he is in a reverie but she is not.

She promises to keep the photograph with her, as he requests, but she soon forgets it. The insistence is repellent. The contemptuous presentation of the advertising business by one of its leaders is questionable, if only because some products are necessary and good, and marketing is a way to make them known to the public.

The expression of contempt is not only a judgment against a particular field or person—when contempt is pervasive, it becomes a judgment against humanity, against us all: it is damning—and that may be part of why some of the people who saw Melancholia found the film hateful.

Justine tells Claire that she is trying to be happy, and that she has been smiling, smiling, smiling, but Claire accuses Justine of lying to everyone, of lying about her contentment, noting that Michael has been trying to reach Justine but Justine has kept Michael at a distance.

Justine is given to distractions. We observe Justine replacing the books on display in the den—instead of abstract illustrations, Justine chooses violently figurative work—and then Justine admits to her mother that she is afraid; and her mother advises her to wobble away from the wedding. It is another element that contributes to the film seeming hateful. However, watching the film, I did not think of it as hateful: I thought it was about different ways of being in the world, and speculations about that.

I thought of the film as philosophical. Claire gets Justine to take a drink, thinking it might cheer or relax her—and Justine drinks straight from a bottle, and Michael, seeing this, takes a big swig from the bottle too.

His act seems an act of acceptance, of love; he is joining her, where she is—and he kisses her. Lars Von Trier, known for his extreme and controversial emotional intensity, made a strikingly accurate film about clinical depression. I do not think I have seen so clearly reflected on screen my own depressive stilted behavior and disheveled physicality; it was difficult to watch.

That is probably because Von Trier suffers from depression himself. Just like with Justine, the worst is what melancholics expected to happen all along, and they tend to accept it more readily.

As Melancholia comes hurtling toward them, all-consuming, Justine, Claire, and Leo hold hands in a circle in their magic cave. They all shudder with fear, but Justine radiates a sense of serenity, even as her eyes tear up. The apocalypse has finally brought out the strength in Auntie Steelbreaker, the only one who could build the paltry shelter out of sticks that would shield them in the end--not from death, but from themselves.

Back Jim Who? Team Contact. Back Reviews Thoughts. Melancholia review by Sharon Gissy. James Laczkowski January 1, sharongissy. Facebook 0 Twitter Pinterest 0 0 Likes. A debilitatingly depressed Justine comes to stay with her sister and her family.

At the beginning of part two, Justine displays outward signs of hysteria, barely able to move or bathe herself. Claire makes her a meatloaf, and Justine begins to weep, complaining that it tastes like ash. This extreme behavior is a red herring.

A nervous Claire follows Justine out of the house at night, only to find her sister serene and smiling, sprawled naked on a riverbank, basking in the blue light given off by Melancholia.

As Melancholia flies by, Claire obsessively checks the makeshift device her son has rigged to determine its proximity. Eventually she comes to realize, as we know from the prologue, that doom is the only possible outcome, that the apocalypse is at hand. By including the prologue, Trier makes a clear decision to reveal where his movie is headed from the beginning.