DogVille

‘Evil can arise anywhere as long as the situation is right.’ Lars Von Trier

Dogville represents what Lars Von Trier considers an allegoric American town, one which is conservative, wary and suspicious of strangers and eventually capable of persecution and acts of true cruelty. The town itself is created using a soundstage, chalk outlines mark the houses and use of props is bare.  There is nothing outside of the town except blackness and the bare set allows us to become consumed in the story and focus on the brilliantly written dialogue and flawless acting. It is almost as if we have been taken back to the beginning of cinema, stripped of unnecessary features until we are left with the most important elements, a story told in a masterful way and truly believable and talented performance from those involved. At just under three hours long the film isn’t one for those who lose interest easily or find it difficult to connect to complex characters, but the time the director spends with the characters of the town , makes the film seem far more realistic and true to life even with its unusual structure and scenery. Nicole Kidman plays Grace, a sensitive yet strong woman on the run from gangsters in what is an effective and accomplished performance. Her character has an overwhelming goodness to her that at first seems to charm the residents of this 1930’s Rocky Mountain town who offer her shelter. The residents of the town are good people, Grace is assured, and at first we are inclined to believe this. But tensions soon arise as Grace becomes subject to a large amount of unwanted male attention and the town becomes increasingly wary about outside intervention, and soon they begin to turn on her. This eventually leads to Grace being humiliated and mistreated daily at the hands of her original rescuers and forced to wear a collar around her neck so she can no longer escape the town. At one point a jealous wife threatens to smash the porcelain figurines that Grace has bought with her meticulously earned wages from the errands she does for the townspeople. Bringing up the concept of stoicism, the woman decides that only two will be smashed if Grace can keep herself from crying. Distraught that the only physical symbols of her acceptance from the town and her triumph over adversity are gone, Grace can no longer keep herself from sobbing and the remaining figurines are destroyed. A scene like this is incredibly emotionally cruel and raw, yet this feeling is created in the audience purely through superb acting and is not exploitative in any way. 

 Director Lars Von Trier has created a film that is constantly asking questions. Are the townspeople intrinsically bad, only deluding themselves that they are good? Does the arrival of Grace bring out these evil instincts that have been lying dormant within them for so long? Or do they simply take advantage of the situation and choose to treat her so horribly? The speech at the end suggests that there is justification in destroying the town, as it is such a pox on humanity that the world would be better off without it. The towns’ people have acted like the animal of their namesake, yet unlike dogs they have always had the choice to suppress their bad nature, unlike a dog which has no choice but to obey. And here the director seems to be suggesting that the only way you can teach a dog or a child to make a morally correct choice is to punish them. What is most disturbing is the arousal of our own dormant instincts during the final scene where Grace exacts her revenge and we internally cheer for her. Perhaps Trier is suggesting that despite our best efforts, despite our original good instincts, the potential for cruelty lies quiet and hidden within all of us, and the choice to deploy such instincts is far more tempting than we would like to believe. By the end, the film seems to suggest that justice has taken place, an extremely warped and perhaps morally impermissible form of justice, but justice all the same.