Breaking the Waves

ironmarlin1 said:The movie operates on this incredibly shallow level of Christian morality, which ultimately dictates how women are permitted to exist within its world. To make matters even worse, it actually expects the audience to swallow this entire setup as some sort of rationalized necessity. It’s basically saying: let the women suffer, because their reward will be waiting for them in heaven.

Now, one could argue that the film is simply presenting this as a critique of the primitive environment they live in—that Bessina's fate serves as a commentary on the crushing nature of such an isolated way of life. That’s a possibility, I suppose, but the film doesn't just paint the townspeople as being needlessly cruel to women; it also presents her husband as someone with deeply pathological demands. Therefore, you can't really frame this as a simple critique of a closed community.

And as for that ending? 🤮
It feels like a calculated attempt to appease the small-minded, religious middle class. Since the film fails to justify all the absolute nonsense occurring throughout the plot, it resorts to a convenient deus ex machina. I find myself wondering why so many critics actually praised this piece. It’s likely because they belong to that exact same social stratum and are desperate to appear "spiritual." In reality, the conclusion completely guts any artistic potential the film might have had—even if E. Watson delivers an absolutely stellar performance—and reduces the whole thing to nothing more than some Christianized, preachy trash.

There is a really unique perspective within film criticism suggesting that von Trier's trilogy—comprised of Breaking the Waves, dancer in the dark, and Dogville—is actually a tribute to female goodness. In his films, the women are incomparably stronger and more resilient than the men; they are willing to endure selfless suffering and noble sacrifice, drawing their strength from a kind of raw, honest love. He portrays this in such a visceral, moving way—which, I have to admit, is a testament to how brilliantly von Trier develops his heroines. Granted, the process is often grueling and exhausting to watch, but interestingly enough, the end always seems to justify the means. E. Watson, Björk, and N. Kidman are nothing short of masterful. If this is indeed an expression of cheap Christian morality and petty chauvinism, then so be it.

Roger Long67 said:There is a really unique perspective within film criticism suggesting that von Trier's trilogy—comprised of Breaking the Waves, dancer in the dark, and Dogville—is actually a tribute to female goodness. In his films, the women are incomparably stronger and more resilient than the men; they are willing to endure selfless suffering and noble sacrifice, drawing their strength from a kind of raw, honest love. He portrays this in such a visceral, moving way—which, I have to admit, is a testament to how brilliantly von Trier develops his heroines. Granted, the process is often grueling and exhausting to watch, but interestingly enough, the end always seems to justify the means. E. Watson, Björk, and N. Kidman are nothing short of masterful. If this is indeed an expression of cheap Christian morality and petty chauvinism, then so be it.

Of course it is. In this film, women are essentially subjugated to men, existing merely to fulfill their twisted fantasies. There is absolutely nothing touching about trying to mask blatant chauvinism and primitivism behind religious messaging. It feels like Trier is attempting a bit of a bluff here; he knows the only way to justify such an injustice is to package it as a spiritual truth for a gullible audience. Since that’s exactly who he’s targeting—people looking for a cinematic catharsis who will swallow whatever is served to them—it isn't much trouble for him to pull off such a stunt.

You (much like Trier himself) seem to measure female goodness by how much it serves the men in their lives. Yeah, that sounds like small-minded chauvinism to me.

ironmarlin1 said:Of course it is. In this film, women are essentially subjugated to men, existing merely to fulfill their twisted fantasies. There is absolutely nothing touching about trying to mask blatant chauvinism and primitivism behind religious messaging. It feels like Trier is attempting a bit of a bluff here; he knows the only way to justify such an injustice is to package it as a spiritual truth for a gullible audience. Since that’s exactly who he’s targeting—people looking for a cinematic catharsis who will swallow whatever is served to them—it isn't much trouble for him to pull off such a stunt.

You (much like Trier himself) seem to measure female goodness by how much it serves the men in their lives. Yeah, that sounds like small-minded chauvinism to me.

I'm not entirely sure what it is that bothers you so much. Is it the idea that characters like our protagonist don't actually exist in the real world, or does it simply grate on you that Trier chooses to include such figures in his films at all? 😕

If you're looking for a film about strong women, just watch G.I. Jane. 👍

goldenhound32 said:I'm not entirely sure what it is that bothers you so much. Is it the idea that characters like our protagonist don't actually exist in the real world, or does it simply grate on you that Trier chooses to include such figures in his films at all? 😕

If you're looking for a film about strong women, just watch G.I. Jane. 👍

I’ve already laid out exactly what bugs me about this. If Jesus hadn't ultimately triumphed, his story would possess a genuine, gut-wrenching sense of tragedy. But because he did, all that intense suffering gets stripped of its weight; it just becomes a functional means to an end. It’s a similar dynamic with the way people view the narrative in *dancer in the dark*. Just as the work of Jesus is traditionally hailed as this brave, ultimate example of goodness—though I personally disagree, but let's stay focused—Bess is framed as "good" simply because she allowed herself to be degraded by men. It’s that specific, hollowed-out version of virtue. Trier makes that exact point clear by the end of the film. Even the presence of God in the movie seems intended to drive home that very observation.

All this talk about "strong women" feels completely misplaced here. That wasn't my point at all. My critique was that the film had genuine potential, but its objective wasn't to explore the dichotomy between weak or strong women; rather, it framed weakness and submissiveness as something desirable. And frankly, that’s what makes it so nauseating.

ironmarlin1 said:I’ve already laid out exactly what bugs me about this. If Jesus hadn't ultimately triumphed, his story would possess a genuine, gut-wrenching sense of tragedy. But because he did, all that intense suffering gets stripped of its weight; it just becomes a functional means to an end. It’s a similar dynamic with the way people view the narrative in *dancer in the dark*. Just as the work of Jesus is traditionally hailed as this brave, ultimate example of goodness—though I personally disagree, but let's stay focused—Bess is framed as "good" simply because she allowed herself to be degraded by men. It’s that specific, hollowed-out version of virtue. Trier makes that exact point clear by the end of the film. Even the presence of God in the movie seems intended to drive home that very observation.

All this talk about "strong women" feels completely misplaced here. That wasn't my point at all. My critique was that the film had genuine potential, but its objective wasn't to explore the dichotomy between weak or strong women; rather, it framed weakness and submissiveness as something desirable. And frankly, that’s what makes it so nauseating.

I didn't interpret it that way... what we have in the film is one unstable individual who believes she's speaking with God, and because of her nature, a massive amount of nonsense happens to her.

And where exactly did you get the idea that the director is suggesting this behavior is desirable?

I find myself compelled to offer my own reflections regarding Lars's muses.

In my estimation, his body of work should be viewed through the lens of rebellion; he acts as a modern Don Quixote who has chosen women as the primary vessel for his defiance against societal norms. His muses are nothing short of captivating figures, 🙏 🙏 🙏 ranging from the witch depicted in Antichrist, to the devout Bess, and ultimately to the mother who kills her own children—Medea. His portrayal of women within the framework of society is so piercingly realistic that it becomes painful to witness. Is it not evident that his female characters serve as spiritual successors to Anna Karenina or Madame Bovary? They are mythical beings imbued with profound archetypal and symbolic significance.

Every one of his muses is a warrior—a formidable fighter. While many critics accuse him of misogyny, I perceive the exact opposite within his cinema; I see a profound adoration and an immense sense of reverence for women.

goldenhound32 said:I didn't interpret it that way... what we have in the film is one unstable individual who believes she's speaking with God, and because of her nature, a massive amount of nonsense happens to her.

And where exactly did you get the idea that the director is suggesting this behavior is desirable?

First off, he concludes by showing that she really *was* speaking with God—which is precisely the central tension the movie forces us to question. Secondly, the logical fallout is that Bess is essentially compelled to submit to God's demands. Now, I wouldn't say she *has* to in a literal sense, but within the confines of Trier's little fantasy, she absolutely does. You argue that all this nonsense happens to her "because of who she is," but the reality is that she is who she is because Trier wrote her that way, specifically to demonstrate that her behavior stems from following divine commands. And I mean actual, legitimate ones!

Where am I getting the idea that he’s suggesting this is desirable? It’s exactly what I pointed out earlier. By the very end of the film, he passes an ethical judgment on everything that has transpired by essentially saying: "God approves."

hiddenhound3 said:I find myself compelled to offer my own reflections regarding Lars's muses.

In my estimation, his body of work should be viewed through the lens of rebellion; he acts as a modern Don Quixote who has chosen women as the primary vessel for his defiance against societal norms. His muses are nothing short of captivating figures, 🙏 🙏 🙏 ranging from the witch depicted in Antichrist, to the devout Bess, and ultimately to the mother who kills her own children—Medea. His portrayal of women within the framework of society is so piercingly realistic that it becomes painful to witness. Is it not evident that his female characters serve as spiritual successors to Anna Karenina or Madame Bovary? They are mythical beings imbued with profound archetypal and symbolic significance.

Every one of his muses is a warrior—a formidable fighter. While many critics accuse him of misogyny, I perceive the exact opposite within his cinema; I see a profound adoration and an immense sense of reverence for women.

It sounds as if you believe that being a warrior is a virtue in and of itself. 🤷
He places that combativeness within the context of a struggle defined by men. Even war criminals were likely passionate warriors who simply followed the orders of superiors commanding them to commit atrocities. But that kind of warfare is inherently immoral. In the same vein, the female submission to men here is repulsive, yet through the lens of Trier, it is justified... for the sake of a "higher purpose."

ironmarlin1 said:First off, he concludes by showing that she really *was* speaking with God—which is precisely the central tension the movie forces us to question. Secondly, the logical fallout is that Bess is essentially compelled to submit to God's demands. Now, I wouldn't say she *has* to in a literal sense, but within the confines of Trier's little fantasy, she absolutely does. You argue that all this nonsense happens to her "because of who she is," but the reality is that she is who she is because Trier wrote her that way, specifically to demonstrate that her behavior stems from following divine commands. And I mean actual, legitimate ones!

Where am I getting the idea that he’s suggesting this is desirable? It’s exactly what I pointed out earlier. By the very end of the film, he passes an ethical judgment on everything that has transpired by essentially saying: "God approves."

It sounds as if you believe that being a warrior is a virtue in and of itself. 🤷
He places that combativeness within the context of a struggle defined by men. Even war criminals were likely passionate warriors who simply followed the orders of superiors commanding them to commit atrocities. But that kind of warfare is inherently immoral. In the same vein, the female submission to men here is repulsive, yet through the lens of Trier, it is justified... for the sake of a "higher purpose."

And what evidence, precisely, do you have to support such a claim?

goldenhound32 said:And what evidence, precisely, do you have to support such a claim?

Well, look at how everything she discusses in her dialogue—though if you ask me, they’re more like intense monologues—actually comes to fruition. It all plays out right before your eyes, and then, in a final stroke of cosmic irony, even God shows up to prove He’s real.🤦

ironmarlin1 said:First off, he concludes by showing that she really *was* speaking with God—which is precisely the central tension the movie forces us to question. Secondly, the logical fallout is that Bess is essentially compelled to submit to God's demands. Now, I wouldn't say she *has* to in a literal sense, but within the confines of Trier's little fantasy, she absolutely does. You argue that all this nonsense happens to her "because of who she is," but the reality is that she is who she is because Trier wrote her that way, specifically to demonstrate that her behavior stems from following divine commands. And I mean actual, legitimate ones!

Where am I getting the idea that he’s suggesting this is desirable? It’s exactly what I pointed out earlier. By the very end of the film, he passes an ethical judgment on everything that has transpired by essentially saying: "God approves."

It sounds as if you believe that being a warrior is a virtue in and of itself. 🤷
He places that combativeness within the context of a struggle defined by men. Even war criminals were likely passionate warriors who simply followed the orders of superiors commanding them to commit atrocities. But that kind of warfare is inherently immoral. In the same vein, the female submission to men here is repulsive, yet through the lens of Trier, it is justified... for the sake of a "higher purpose."

It isn't a matter of being modern or humane; rather, we are dealing with a distorted form of patriarchy that maintains its sovereignty even to this day. However, I completely understand where you're coming from. I have no intention of attacking his position; I am simply trying to move the conversation forward.

I believe the concept is... Strong women. To be quite honest, I find myself leaning toward a pre-feminist perspective regarding this specific poetics and philosophy; when one examines the metaphysics involved, the nuances are far more subtle than they might initially appear.

My suggestion would be to watch Medea.

I honestly can't stop thinking about how much weight certain cinematic choices carry, especially when you look at a film like *Breaking the Waves*. It’s one of those rare instances where the raw, unvarnished emotion hits you right in the gut before you even have a chance to brace yourself. You know that feeling? When a director isn't just showing you a story, but is essentially forcing you to inhabit the very soul of the characters? That’s exactly what happens here. It reminds me of those old, heavy dramas you’d see playing in a dimly lit theater in Chicago—stories that don't care if you're comfortable, they only care if you're paying attention. kaže:
I’m not suggesting we’re looking at some modern, enlightened version of masculinity here; what we’re actually dealing with is a twisted, archaic form of patriarchy that somehow still manages to hold sovereign power in this day and age. That said, I completely get where you're coming from—I really do. I’m not trying to pick a fight or dismantle his position directly; I’m just attempting to push the conversation one step further.

I honestly think the concept itself is... well, it's complicated. It’s one of those terms that feels straightforward on the surface, much like how a simple melody can mask a deeply complex arrangement, but once you actually start peeling back the layers, you realize there's a whole lot more going on under the hood than anyone initially lets on. Strong women. To call this kind of poetics and philosophy—this whole metaphysical approach—profane or even anti-feminist feels like a massive oversimplification; in reality, the nuances are far more subtle and complex than that.

If you're looking for a recommendation, I’d honestly suggest you sit down and watch Medea.

I’ll go along with the idea that the whole "strong woman" trope has become a bit of a tired cliché lately. But when it comes to this specific film, I can only make sense of it if we assume the path Bess traveled was somehow justified. Personally, I find that impossible to defend; you could have every prophet, saint, and deity descend from the heavens to ring celestial bells in her defense, and it still wouldn't move the needle for me. I have to say, Trier simply didn't win me over. 🤷

I’ll most likely end up watching Medea—though, to be honest, I’ve never been much of a fan of judging films based on whether they belong to a specific series or a director's trilogy; I prefer to let each individual work stand entirely on its own merits. Right now, I'm deep into... 🙏Sidney Lumet 🙏Honestly, it’s kind of wild—this guy just can't seem to make a bad movie, at least based on the handful I've managed to sit through. I've got *The Verdict* lined up next, though there's a decent chance I might end up watching *Medea* instead.

It’s a heavy, gut-wrenching watch, but Emily Watson is absolutely phenomenal here—she completely nails the role.

ironmarlin1 said:

I honestly can't stop thinking about how much weight certain cinematic choices carry, especially when you look at a film like *Breaking the Waves*. It’s one of those rare instances where the raw, unvarnished emotion hits you right in the gut before you even have a chance to brace yourself. You know that feeling? When a director isn't just showing you a story, but is essentially forcing you to inhabit the very soul of the characters? That’s exactly what happens here. It reminds me of those old, heavy dramas you’d see playing in a dimly lit theater in Chicago—stories that don't care if you're comfortable, they only care if you're paying attention. kaže:
I’m not suggesting we’re looking at some modern, enlightened version of masculinity here; what we’re actually dealing with is a twisted, archaic form of patriarchy that somehow still manages to hold sovereign power in this day and age. That said, I completely get where you're coming from—I really do. I’m not trying to pick a fight or dismantle his position directly; I’m just attempting to push the conversation one step further.

I honestly think the concept itself is... well, it's complicated. It’s one of those terms that feels straightforward on the surface, much like how a simple melody can mask a deeply complex arrangement, but once you actually start peeling back the layers, you realize there's a whole lot more going on under the hood than anyone initially lets on. Strong women. To call this kind of poetics and philosophy—this whole metaphysical approach—profane or even anti-feminist feels like a massive oversimplification; in reality, the nuances are far more subtle and complex than that.

If you're looking for a recommendation, I’d honestly suggest you sit down and watch Medea.

I’ll go along with the idea that the whole "strong woman" trope has become a bit of a tired cliché lately. But when it comes to this specific film, I can only make sense of it if we assume the path Bess traveled was somehow justified. Personally, I find that impossible to defend; you could have every prophet, saint, and deity descend from the heavens to ring celestial bells in her defense, and it still wouldn't move the needle for me. I have to say, Trier simply didn't win me over. 🤷

I’ll most likely end up watching Medea—though, to be honest, I’ve never been much of a fan of judging films based on whether they belong to a specific series or a director's trilogy; I prefer to let each individual work stand entirely on its own merits. Right now, I'm deep into... 🙏Sidney Lumet 🙏Honestly, it’s kind of wild—this guy just can't seem to make a bad movie, at least based on the handful I've managed to sit through. I've got *The Verdict* lined up next, though there's a decent chance I might end up watching *Medea* instead.

I will admit that the ending feels somewhat pathetic, yet even that sentiment cannot overshadow the profound message conveyed by the film as a whole. Having studied Lars' body of work quite extensively, I find that he hasn't truly surpassed Medea in my estimation. Although I haven't had the opportunity to travel through Europe yet, I hold very high expectations for this particular piece. I recall you mentioning that you identify as an atheist, so I certainly understand your distaste for the Christian religious elements present in the story. Personally, I view such moments through a purely symbolic lens; religion doesn't hold much weight for me either, though I certainly don't harbor any specific aversion toward it.

I will most likely end up watching Medea, though I generally prefer not to judge films based on whether they belong to a specific series or trilogy; I much rather evaluate each work as its own individual masterpiece.

I tend to approach it the same way. While I find value in examining an artist's broader persona, I believe there is a certain intellectual satisfaction in focusing on a smaller subset of their work to trace their individual evolution. It serves as a fascinating exercise, both from a purely theoretical standpoint and through a psychological lens.

I am currently in... 🙏Sidney Lumet 🙏Honestly, I’m convinced this guy simply cannot make a bad movie—at least, based on the many films of his that I have seen. My next move is to watch The Verdict.

I will certainly keep that in mind, thanks. 😉

Just one more small thing... have you ever heard of the Aghori? They are Hindu ascetics who, even in their most depraved rituals involving necrophilia, remain steadfast due to their absolute devotion. Clean.There is something almost "Artemidian" about the way this film relentlessly pursues its own obsessions; it grapples with profound themes that feel perhaps too heavy for the current moment or this particular setting. One gets the sense that this movie isn't nearly as innocent as it initially appears to be.

ironmarlin1 said:Of course it is. In this film, women are essentially subjugated to men, existing merely to fulfill their twisted fantasies. There is absolutely nothing touching about trying to mask blatant chauvinism and primitivism behind religious messaging. It feels like Trier is attempting a bit of a bluff here; he knows the only way to justify such an injustice is to package it as a spiritual truth for a gullible audience. Since that’s exactly who he’s targeting—people looking for a cinematic catharsis who will swallow whatever is served to them—it isn't much trouble for him to pull off such a stunt.

You (much like Trier himself) seem to measure female goodness by how much it serves the men in their lives. Yeah, that sounds like small-minded chauvinism to me.

No, I judge goodness—regardless of gender—by how much we serve one another. And let's be honest, that is the hardest thing to do. Being good is difficult; being selfish is easy. That’s why characters like Bess, Selma, and Grace represent the true greatness of the human race. Their sacrifice gives them a mythic quality, even though they are portrayed as the most ordinary, simple, and natural beings. That is precisely the point!

I have to admit, I could never be like them, and that's exactly why I envy them. It isn't about reaching some ultimate goal (like the kingdom of heaven) through justified means (unconditional sacrifice)—it's about who they ARE. Right here, right now. They don't calculate based on earthly gains; their only focus is the well-being of those around them. The heavenly bells are just von Trier's way of presenting a reward from God for such sacrifice, and while I personally have my doubts about such happy endings, his poetic allure almost makes you want to believe in them.

Because I know, deep down, that without people like Bess, Selma, and Grace, society would be filled with spiritual voids.

ironmarlin1 said:The movie operates on this incredibly shallow level of Christian morality, which ultimately dictates how women are permitted to exist within its world. To make matters even worse, it actually expects the audience to swallow this entire setup as some sort of rationalized necessity. It’s basically saying: let the women suffer, because their reward will be waiting for them in heaven.

Now, one could argue that the film is simply presenting this as a critique of the primitive environment they live in—that Bessina's fate serves as a commentary on the crushing nature of such an isolated way of life. That’s a possibility, I suppose, but the film doesn't just paint the townspeople as being needlessly cruel to women; it also presents her husband as someone with deeply pathological demands. Therefore, you can't really frame this as a simple critique of a closed community.

And as for that ending? 🤮
It feels like a calculated attempt to appease the small-minded, religious middle class. Since the film fails to justify all the absolute nonsense occurring throughout the plot, it resorts to a convenient deus ex machina. I find myself wondering why so many critics actually praised this piece. It’s likely because they belong to that exact same social stratum and are desperate to appear "spiritual." In reality, the conclusion completely guts any artistic potential the film might have had—even if E. Watson delivers an absolutely stellar performance—and reduces the whole thing to nothing more than some Christianized, preachy trash.

Her husband with "pathological demands"? Where did that come from? It’s been a while since I watched it—I can't quite recall that specific detail.

northerncrane4 said:Her husband with "pathological demands"? Where did that come from? It’s been a while since I watched it—I can't quite recall that specific detail.

I suspect my colleague Davor is referring to that moment when bessin's husband told Bess to go screw herself with everyone else.

goldenhound32 said:I suspect my colleague Davor is referring to that moment when bessin's husband told Bess to go screw herself with everyone else.

He didn't say that so he could watch her—it was about letting her live her own life regardless of his absence.🤷

northerncrane4 said:He didn't say that so he could watch her—it was about letting her live her own life regardless of his absence.🤷

Exactly.

Now we just wait for our colleague 🙂Davor

northerncrane4 said:He didn't say that so he could watch her—it was about letting her live her own life regardless of his absence.🤷

..but rather to listen to about it.
Even then, it isn't exactly a tragedy.

I honestly can't help but feel that we’re all just circling the drain when it comes to discussing this particular subject, drifting through these endless debates without ever truly grasping the core of the matter. It's much like watching a slow-motion replay of a championship game where you know exactly how the play ends, yet you find yourself mesmerized by the sheer, agonizing tension of the buildup. There is a certain weight to these discussions, a gravity that pulls us in, much like how one might feel sitting in a quiet corner of a dim library in Boston, surrounded by the heavy scent of old paper and the unspoken wisdom of centuries. We tend to get lost in the minutiae, focusing on the tiny, jagged edges of an argument while completely ignoring the broad, sweeping landscape that defines the entire conflict. I find myself wondering if we are even capable of seeing the forest for the trees anymore, or if we have become too enamored with our own specialized lenses to ever appreciate the view from the summit. It feels as though we are constantly rearranging the furniture in a house that is already being reclaimed by the elements, performing these intricate little rituals of logic and rhetoric while the very foundation shifts beneath our feet. Perhaps there is a sense of comfort in the repetition, a way to stave off the realization that some questions simply don't have answers that satisfy the soul, but I cannot shake the feeling that we are merely stalling for time. kaže:
I’ll be the first to admit that the ending is absolutely pathetic, but honestly, even that level of melodrama can’t overshadow the core message this entire film carries. Having followed Lars' work quite closely over the years, I don't think any of his previous takes on Medea have ever truly topped this one. I haven't actually had a chance to sit down and watch *Europa* yet—though my expectations for it are sky-high—but since I know you hold an atheist worldview, I completely understand why those Christian undertones left such a bad taste in your mouth. For me, though, I tend to view those religious elements through a purely symbolic lens; religion doesn't carry much weight in my own life either, but I don't exactly harbor a deep-seated aversion to it like some others might.

I don't really have anything against Christian undertones appearing in films—unless, of course, that religious subtext is the entire point of the narrative or something along those lines. It’s giving off major snuff film vibes. It brings to mind those heavy religious epics—think along the lines of *Passion*. But here, there’s this lingering sense that religion is being used as a sort of cosmic "thank you" note to a woman simply because she sacrificed herself for a man, essentially playing out his specific fantasies. It feels like a strange way to frame devotion, though I suppose I’m just circling back to my own point again. 😍

Just one more little thing... have you ever heard of the Aghori? They’re these Hindu ascetics who, even when engaging in their most gruesome and necrophilic rituals, manage to maintain this incredible, unwavering devotion. It’s a heavy concept, I know, but there's something profoundly striking about that kind of absolute commitment. Clean.There’s something almost "Artemidian" about the way he absolutely surrenders himself to his obsessions; it's a total immersion into these heavy, profound themes that feel almost too weighty for a casual conversation right now. But let's be honest—this film isn't nearly as innocent as it might appear on the surface.

You know, you often see these little archetypal nods scattered throughout cinema—think of those Nietzschean tensions between the Apollonian and Dionysian elements, for instance. Not necessarily in this specific film, but as a general phenomenon in the medium. I can't help but feel that, more often than not, we aren't actually seeing what the film implies, but rather just projecting whatever it is we're itching to see onto the screen. It’s a simple byproduct of the fact that a single cluster of facts, or a sequence of events, can be twisted into countless different and even contradictory interpretations. Honestly, I think the absolute worst thing you can do in art is go hunting for the "artist's intention," acting as if the creator holds some sort of divine authority over how their work is understood.

Roger Long67 said:No, I judge goodness—regardless of gender—by how much we serve one another. And let's be honest, that is the hardest thing to do. Being good is difficult; being selfish is easy. That’s why characters like Bess, Selma, and Grace represent the true greatness of the human race. Their sacrifice gives them a mythic quality, even though they are portrayed as the most ordinary, simple, and natural beings. That is precisely the point!

I have to admit, I could never be like them, and that's exactly why I envy them. It isn't about reaching some ultimate goal (like the kingdom of heaven) through justified means (unconditional sacrifice)—it's about who they ARE. Right here, right now. They don't calculate based on earthly gains; their only focus is the well-being of those around them. The heavenly bells are just von Trier's way of presenting a reward from God for such sacrifice, and while I personally have my doubts about such happy endings, his poetic allure almost makes you want to believe in them.

Because I know, deep down, that without people like Bess, Selma, and Grace, society would be filled with spiritual voids.

I certainly agree that one ought to strive for goodness, 😁, but even if Trier's intention was to portray virtue through the lens of cinema, that doesn't mean the film actually succeeds in doing so. Instead, what we see is a depiction of how female naivety can be exploited—or, had the film taken a different path, perhaps a descent into madness.

northerncrane4 said:Her husband with "pathological demands"? Where did that come from? It’s been a while since I watched it—I can't quite recall that specific detail.

goldenhound32 said:I suspect my colleague Davor is referring to that moment when bessin's husband told Bess to go screw herself with everyone else.

northerncrane4 said:He didn't say that so he could watch her—it was about letting her live her own life regardless of his absence.🤷

goldenhound32 said:Exactly.

Now we just wait for our colleague 🙂Davor

Jamie Davis9 said:..but rather to listen to about it.
Even then, it isn't exactly a tragedy.

He tells her to sleep with others and that she should tell him about it. But then, suggesting he actually said this to encourage her independence—and that her telling him about sleeping with others is somehow an issue—makes it sound as though sex itself is a moral failing (even though the film never implies that). If she wouldn't have slept with anyone else under any other circumstances, then the way the film ends suggests that God is satisfied with this exploitation and that her actions were somehow righteous. To me, that feels like a deeply inhumane stance toward women.