Dancer in the Dark (2000) film review - an analysis of von Trier’s tour de force
★★★★★
‘Dancer in the Dark’ delves into the life of visually impaired Selma, whose unwavering pursuit of happiness for her son drives her to tragedy.
Director: Lars von Trier. Starring: Björk, Catherine Deneuve, David Morse, Peter Stormare, Joel Grey. R cert, 140 min.
In his award-winning musical drama ‘Dancer in the Dark’, Lars von Trier depicts Czech immigrant factory worker Selma, whose sight is rapidly deteriorating. As Selma undergoes struggles in her life, she escapes increasingly often into musical daydreams. ‘Dancer in the Dark’ is the final film in von Trier’s ‘Golden Heart Trilogy’, and explores the heartbreaking collision of an innocent idealistic girl with a cruel, self-serving society. As with his 1996 film ‘Breaking the Waves’, ‘Dancer in the Dark’ displays von Trier’s attempts to project himself onto female characters and thus examine the repressed ‘feminine’ attributes of his personality, such as religious belief, emotion, and self sacrifice. When questioned about the suffering of the female characters in his films, von Trier has simply stated ‘those characters are not women. They are self-portraits.’ There is no doubt that ‘Dancer in the Dark’ is a divisive film, but I found it to be an utterly enthralling and devastating play on a genre I usually despise.
‘Dancer in the Dark’ (2000) film poster artwork
The influence of Dogme 95 on ‘Dancer in the Dark’
It must be stated here that I am a longtime admirer of Lars von Trier as a director. I have, for the most part, held back from writing about his films for fear of not doing them the justice they deserve, or perhaps for fear of writing a biassed and dogmatic piece. I was moved to action after my fourth viewing of ‘Dancer in the Dark’ at a local film festival, where I once again finished the film in tears. Björk’s astoundingly honest portrayal of Selma, coupled with von Trier’s twisted take on the classic Hollywood musical, creates a viewing experience that is at once magical and nightmarish.
The beginning of the ‘Golden Heart Trilogy’ marks the first films von Trier made following the introduction of the Dogme 95 manifesto, a Danish film movement that aimed to place restrictions on filmmakers in order to produce a more naturalistic and organic result. Though ‘Dancer in the Dark’ breaks a number of the Dogme 95 rules, its influence is recognisable in von Trier’s consistent use of a handheld camera to present the film’s narrative. Here, von Trier breaks away stylistically from generic conventions. There is no doubt that ‘Dancer in the Dark’ is in some ways a stereotypical musical, filled with faux-Technicolour sequences and melodramatic clichés. What sets ‘Dancer in the Dark’ apart from the classic Hollywood musical is von Trier’s persistent highlighting of the disparity between the film’s narrative and musical segments.
Lars von Trier’s subversion of the musical
Musical segments in ‘Dancer in the Dark’ are coupled with a vibrant attack of colour and a shift from the subjective handheld camera; thus, as the film progresses, the viewer is made increasingly aware of the contrast between the depressing reality of Selma’s life and the idealism of her musical daydreams. Though the musical segments of ‘Dancer in the Dark’ provide the viewer with brief respite from the film’s gruelling portrayal of Selma’s suffering, each return to the film’s narrative becomes more and more difficult to bear. In fact, it is hard to imagine ‘Dancer in the Dark’ delivering the perfection it does without the presence of Björk. The innocence she exudes as Selma and her characteristically strange yet hauntingly beautiful musical performances provide a much-needed counterbalance to von Trier’s unyielding directorial style. As Selma, Björk embodies exquisitely the martyr-like, humanistic qualities of the heroines of the Golden Heart Trilogy.
‘Dancer in the Dark’ begins with a grand musical overture, and here von Trier sets the stage for the tragic operatic events that are to follow. We are introduced to Selma as a naive young woman who works long hours in a factory and spends her free time attending rehearsals for an amateur production of ‘The Sound of Music’, where she is to play the role of Maria. We are introduced to her close friend Kathy, a firm and down to Earth woman played excellently by Catherine Deneuve. Selma and her son Gene inhabit a trailer on the property of local police officer Bill and his wife Linda, and it is in this trailer that Selma squirrels away her money, saving desperately for an operation that will save Gene from becoming blind in her footsteps. It is an altogether wholesome scene, but von Trier wastes no time in intimating to the audience the ways in which it will inevitably break down into catastrophe.
Selma as a ‘Golden Heart’ heroine
The charming innocence of Selma’s disposition soon reveals the faith that will destroy her. Where in ‘Breaking the Waves’ we see Bess exhibit unwavering faith which finds its roots in her husband Jan, Selma’s unwavering faith lies in music. This is because, as Selma sings in ‘In the Musicals’, music will always be there to catch her when she falls. Though music offers Selma an escape from the gruelling reality of her day to day life, notably even the musical daydreams she slips into are heavily influenced by her environment. We see this from the first musical performance in ‘Dancer in the Dark’, where Selma reimagines the mechanical noises from the factory into a lively beat. Thus, even in the brief technicolour escapes from the harsh documentary style realism of the film, von Trier reminds us that trouble is just around the corner. In fact, Selma’s musical daydreams signal and occasionally even provoke the downward spiral of the film’s narrative.
The moment in ‘Dancer in the Dark’ that seals Selma’s fate as a Golden Heart heroine arises when Bill visits her in her trailer. Distressed, he confesses that Linda’s spending has driven them to financial ruin. He tells Selma that he has even considered suicide as a preferable option to telling Linda the truth. In return, Selma confesses to Bill her own secret; that she is now almost completely blind. Bill’s confession drives home von Trier’s overarching critique of the American Dream as an unachievable, even menacing concept that pushes its citizens into over consumerism and debt. Read as such, Selma’s fate can be interpreted as a natural consequence of dangerous Hollywood illusions. Driven by desperation, Bill lingers in Selma’s trailer to observe where she hides her money. When Selma later returns home from work to find her tin empty, she goes to Bill’s house to confront him.
What follows is perhaps the most bizarrely messy, painfully slow ‘murder’ scene I have ever witnessed on screen. Clasping his gun into Selma’s hands, Bill begs her repeatedly to kill him, telling her that it is the only way she will ever get her money back. Having eventually succeeded, Selma immediately escapes into a musical daydream that can best be described as a disturbing wish fulfilment. Bill’s corpse reanimates and forgives her, and in the garden Gene’s childish refrain ‘you just did what you had to do’ can be heard. Having stolen her money back, Selma pays in advance for Gene’s eye surgery. Despite her degenerating condition and failing grip on reality, Selma has never lost sight of her one true objective. When Selma is convicted of Bill’s murder, she remarkably refuses to tell the court of his money troubles. Selma is sentenced to the death penalty, and she will take Bill’s secret to the grave.
This is the Next to Last Song
The final musical number in ‘Dancer in the Dark’, ‘Next to Last Song’ is a reference to Selma’s ritual of leaving a musical before the final song so the music never has to end. Tied down by ropes to a wooden board with a noose around her neck, clutching Gene’s glasses in her hands, Selma takes her last bow before the curtain falls. Unlike the other musical performances in the film, it appears in ‘Next to Last Song’ that the real world and Selma’s musical fantasies have coincided. As she sings, the room is silent, and the prison guards observe her last performance as though they can hear her. Seeing the voyeurism of the prison guards, the viewer is forced to consider their own role as a voyeur to Selma’s suffering. The borders between the screened world and reality collapse, and the film ends in a heartbreaking rupture. Though ‘Next to Last Song’ is Selma’s last song of the film, she escapes it prematurely, before the song is yet over. A harsh crack can be heard, and Selma swings in silence as Gene’s glasses fall to the ground.
‘They say it’s the last song
They don’t know us, you see
It’s only the last song
If we let it be’
Should you watch this before you die?
‘Dancer in the Dark’ is tragically beautiful, and possesses the rare ability to quite literally take your breath away whilst you are watching it. With the last scene of the film acting as a poignant critique of the death penalty, von Trier forces viewers to observe a senseless, meaningless death as a way to provoke outrage and ethical debate. You do not have to support von Trier, the controversial figure that he is, to appreciate the masterfully experimental and dazzlingly provocative nature of his filmmaking. Björk is always astounding, and the emotional intensity of her performance as Selma is at once spellbinding and agonising. Von Trier’s Golden Heart trilogy is, in my opinion, the best showcase of his work. Whilst some critics have labelled him a misogynist for his portrayal of women, I struggle to observe his repeated representation of female protagonists as strong and independent as Selma to be anything at all negative.