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One. Icelandic sensation. Every little step she takes...

By Georgina Cullman

I love Björk. I love her music and I love her crazy fashion choices, but most of all I love her Puckish, childlike playfulness. Because of my Björk-love, I eagerly anticipated her acting debut in Lars Von Trier's Dancer in the Dark, and I sat through all three hours of it.

And I must confess it got me. It has already become conventional wisdom to say that Dancer in the Dark polarizes audiences. So, here I am, warning you right from the beginning that I was probably predisposed to be on the love side of the love/hate dichotomy.
COURTESY FINE LINE FEATURES
Björk justs needs a hug. And a few big musical numbers.

At any rate, with Dancer in the Dark, his third movie, Von Trier tackles the musical melodrama genre. Much like Von Trier's first film, Breaking the Waves, the story centers on an astonishingly self-sacrificing woman. In this movie, that's Selma (Björk), a Czech immigrant in 1960s Washington state who works long hours at a metalware factory despite her deteriorating eyesight. When not at the factory, she takes work home to her trailer, carding bobby pins to make extra money. The result of all of Selma's hard work will pay for an operation to cure her son of the same hereditary eye disease that will eventually leave her blind. Catherine Deneuve, in a surprisingly unglamorous role, plays Cathy, Selma's often-reluctant helpmate and fellow old-school musical fan. Yet as Selma's eyesight goes from negligible to nonexistent, the thin safety net of her struggling existence breaks in an unbelievably unpleasant series of events and horrible coincidences.

Von Trier builds enormous tension in the first half of the film. He imbues every clang and crash of the machinery at the steel-pressing factory with the sense of narrowly averted tragedy—following Selma's every movement as she attempts to do her job while functionally blind.

Of course, to Selma, every clang and crash of the factory machinery is an invitation to the fantasy world of musicals. In this world, colors are brighter and more saturated, everyone can sing and dance, and people act according to their better nature. At one point she confesses to her landlord Bill (David Morse) that whenever things get rough, the smallest bit of rhythm can offer her refuge in the world of musicals, where nothing bad ever happens.

The musical numbers are excellent within the context of the movie and fulfill the same function for the audience as they do for Selma—when things get tough, the music comes and lightens the load. In one sequence, lumberjacks on a passing train dance like Fred Astaire—but with saws instead of a cane. Even fishermen on the river sway their rods in time with the music. To film these sequences, Von Trier used one hundred fixed digital cameras simultaneously, giving them a very different feel than the regular action scenes, which were shot with a single, hand-held digital camera.
Film
Dancer in the Dark
Directed by Lars Von Trier
Starring: Björk, Catherine
Deneuve
York Square Cinema

Von Trier is one of the founding fathers of the Dogme movement, a reaction to the increasing superficiality of movies. In an attempt to make movies rely on talent and character rather than gloss, Dogme requires filmmakers to take the "vow of chastity"—a list of 10 rules that generally restrict a filmmaker from resorting to trickery. Dancer in the Dark cannot claim to be a Dogme film because Trier breaks the very rules he created: Dancer is set in another place and time than where it was shot. Trier does not, however, forego a character-driven narrative. Selma's is a round and well-crafted portrait filled out with an electrifying performance from Björk.

In a recent interview, Von Trier described his aim with Dancer in the Dark. "What I wanted to achieve with Dancer in the Dark is that you take things as seriously as you do in an opera. Some years ago, people really cried at operas. I think it's a skill to be able to find such emotion in something so stylized. I would love to be able to feel that much for someone who's been killed with a cardboard sword." And Von Trier succeeds; despite the improbability of Selma's story, it's easy to suspend disbelief and be utterly swept up. So bring tissues with you and leave the left side of your brain at home.

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