Review: The House That Jack Built

Image courtesy of IFC Films.

Lars Von Trier's provocative "The House That Jack Built," which inspired mass walkouts at this year's Cannes Film Festival, may not be one of the director's best films - although it is good and well worth viewing for those who can stomach it - but it's certainly the one that, perhaps, can best summarize the Danish enfant terrible's body of work. More so than any other film in his oeuvre, "House" is a film that is undoubtedly about Lars Von Trier.

The picture tells the story of a prolific serial killer named Jack - who goes by the moniker "Mr. Sophistication" - as he murders his way through some unknown spot in America during the 1970s. As the film opens, Jack is making some sort of confession to an unseen man named Virgil - yes, you can start your assumptions now - who is voiced, and later played, by the great Bruno Ganz. Jack is relaying his history of carnage and summarizes his career with five "incidents," which become more grueling as they go along.

But before I go further into that, I should mention that Jack views himself as an artist, of sorts. As a result, his descriptions of murder are often intertwined with his thoughts on art, morality and violence, incorporating clips of Glenn Gould playing the piano, the work of various architects, William Blake's poetry, images from Nazi concentration camps and even several of Von Trier's films (of which clips are readily available). On the other hand, Von Trier's use of music - primarily a repetition of David Bowie's "Fame" and Ray Charles' "Hit the Road, Jack" - are a little too on the nose.

In the first "incident," Jack picks up a woman (Uma Thurman) whose car has broken down. Despite the violence in which it culminates, this chapter is the most humorous (the picture is often surprisingly funny, despite its grim story) as Thurman's character first suggests that Jack, who has yet to begin killing people, comes off as a serial killer and torments him that he's too much of a "wimp" to ever be such a thing.

The second incident finds Jack somewhat hilariously attempting to talk his way into the home of another woman (Siobhan Fallon Hogan), whose demise is slightly more unsettling than the first. However, Von Trier uses this incident for one of the picture's most deliriously absurd sequences as Jack, who has described himself as having OCD, obsesses whether he cleaned up the blood from the woman's house, only to return to it again and again to make sure and, as a result, bluffs his way through a conversation with a police officer at the scene.

The third and fourth incidents are extremely disturbing. In the third, Jack takes a mother and her two young sons out for a hunting lesson that quickly turns grim, ending with a particularly haunting image as Jack sculpts one of his victim's faces to look like Heath Ledger's Joker character. But those put off by the third chapter might not make it through the fourth, as Jack taunts a woman whom he refers to as "Simple" (Riley Keough), and whom he is likely dating, before performing a horrific act of violence (which made me partially shield my eyes) against her. If the third incident was grimly effective, the fourth is the one that tests the boundaries and, to an extent, made me question whether the film suffers as a result.

The final incident appears to have been inspired by the "Human Centipede" movies (although less icky) as Jack lines up a group of men in a storage freezer with their heads together, with the intention of using one bullet to take them all out. It is around this point that Virgil steps in, and the film culminates with an odd, but strangely compelling, sequence inspired by the "Divine Comedy."

Von Trier's films have long focused on human suffering, and critics have often noted how he tortures his lead female characters - Bjork in "Dancer in the Dark," Emily Watson in "Breaking the Waves" and Nicole Kidman in "Dogville" - and turns them into martyrs. In his latest film, which he has indicated might be his last, the lead character is a man who literally tortures women, which is a small indication of how the picture is a summation - and explanation by the director - of his career. In the film's nastiest chapter, Jack's character performs a Von Trier-self critique by asking the audience why women are always the "victims."

Career analysis can be found throughout the movie. In the first chapter, Thurman's character dares Jack to do something horrible, and by the second chapter he has taken to obsessing over his perfectionism. In the third and fourth chapters, his character has sunk into depravity and, in the fifth, he realizes that he can no longer top himself. "Don't look at the acts, look at the works," Jack tells Virgil during one telling sequence. In the finale, Jack finds himself defending his body of work to Virgil - only, in this film, both characters represent Von Trier. One is the provocateur and the other is the conscience.

Interestingly enough, three of Von Trier's four most recent films have dealt, in some form or fashion, with depression. The shocking "Antichrist" was about succumbing to a deep, dark depression, while "Melancholia" - his masterpiece, in my opinion - is about making peace with it. "The House That Jack Built" rationalizes it, to an extent, although its final shot could be deemed troubling, considering the context.

Regardless, Von Trier's film is one that is often fascinating to ponder, and while it doesn't rank with his finest films ("Melancholia," "Breaking the Waves," "Dogville" and "Dancer in the Dark"), the film has its share of impressive sequences, some gorgeous and haunting images and solid performances. It also leaves the viewer with much to chew on. It's well worth a look, for those who can handle material that is occasionally traumatizing.