NYMPH()MANIAC, VOL. II

A Review

In the two agonizing weeks that hardcore Von Trier fans had to wait for the second installment of the cinematic provocateur's raunchy - yet stunningly insightful and clever - magnum opus over online digital retailers such as Amazon, many became so enamored with the first half of Joe's story - me included - that they wondered whether Volume II even had a chance of living up to the typically high art-house expectations of all of LvT's works.

Much to their relief, and mine, Von Trier not only continued the story beautifully and wrapped up all the odds and ends that Volume I had our panties in a twist over, but also surpassed the first half in nearly every way possible. Despite having two fewer chapters to work with than in Vol. 1 (the first had five, whereas the second has only three), the Danish wonder crafts a tale of betrayal, loneliness, despair and, ultimately, a kind of deterministic salvation that - for all intents and purposes - weaves together one seriously dark, haunting portrayal of a woman, or more accurately as Lars would like us to remember, a human being who, having been an outcast all her life due to her sickness ("Nymphomania," Joe stresses, as opposed to the more PC-friendly "sex addict."), learns to appreciate her uniqueness in the most unexpected, liberating, and unorthodox ways. Isolated and dark though her existence may be, Joe seems to find entirely new roads - seemingly out of nowhere - of self-discovery and, consequently, often self-loathing. At the same time, however, Joe realizes that her "affliction" as she has been told her whole life it is, is in fact not something to be ashamed of, but something to embrace.

This part of the story - the overarching emotional narrative of alienation and the unbridled passions that can result in such alienation - is where Lars hits a home run. From the opening of Vol. II's re-invention of what Joe calls the "fuck-me-now" clothes, to the two foreigners she meets in a cheap hotel room for sex "where no communication is possible," to the outstanding sadomasochistic scenes performed by the scorching Jamie Bell as "K" and the resulting heartbreak in Joe's own family - and yes, infant son - II, put quite simply, does everything right. Some of the more interesting scenes, however, turn up when Joe finds a way to parlay her propensity for frequent, random sexual encounters with strangers into a professional use as a debt collector. This development - along with a new relationship with a young protege that turns Joe's world on its head - represents a breakaway from her dependence on family, thereby skyrocketing her isolation, but there's soon to be found a new kind of strength within Joe: a kind of masculine aggression that is truly remarkable to observe on screen coming from such a dainty little thing as Gainsbourg, whose performance, I believe, should be regarded as among the most important and downright breathtaking roles in the history of cinema. 

From the opening sequence of Vol. I to the very last act of II, it is clear to see why Charlotte is Von Trier's muse: her vulnerability, her strength, her frustration, her agonizing loneliness, and her humanity ooze off the screen. A viewer need not be a nymphomaniac to relate to Joe: hers is a story of the universal problem of disconnectedness, something we all feel in our lives to some degree, from time to time. Her final speech to the old bachelor who rescued her from the alley, Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård, also a force to be reckoned with) transports the audience from mere external observer to observant, perceptive participant - not in the film, but in their own lives - and ensures that the walk home from the theater is as far from pornography as can be: philosophy, life, love, and above all, the human condition.  

From Joe's exceptionally deviant behaviors and uncontrollable lust, we learn so much more than what we bargained for when it comes to Vol. II, and it is in this respect that Nymph()maniac as a whole transcends the typical movie-going experience. Though Gainsbourg steals the spotlight from just about everyone, all other performances in the film are spot-on representations of classic human archetypes and as such, are brilliant in their own right.

In its totality, Nymph()maniac could easily be considered the single greatest artistic achievement of Lars von Trier's entire life. Although it is - saliently - a love-or-hate experience like so many of the director's films are to so many of the cinema-going public, there is still something universally admirable about the endeavor here, and only repeated viewings will teach the viewer that, of all the universally human conditions, uniqueness is special and, despite it being a source of alienation, isolation, and loneliness, has a special value in and of itself that defines our very existence.

FINAL SCORE: 93/100