mfunk9786 wrote: Mon Nov 04, 2019 3:39 pm
The exterior to this misogyny should be the viewer's own developed mind and sense of morality. Also, the inherent humanity of the women depicted. Yes, they are seen through Jack's eyes, but that doesn't make them valueless by any stretch.
I don't think that's a valid argument. A viewer's personal sense of morality is not an intrinsic part of a work of art. Nobody (as far as I know) claims that
The Birth of a Nation is not racist because we as an audience know that racism is bad.
My point was that the female characters are entirely seen through Jack's eyes, and, as characters, they are thoroughly misogynist creations. Also, as characters, the film offers no 'outside' to their depiction - i.e. no indications within their narratives that they are not exactly as idiotic as Jack depicts them. Jack may not be consciously constructing his narratives with this in mind (basically, everybody in his story - even himself - is an idiot), but Von Trier is.
The Verge argument is a little stronger, but in practice I feel he's a weak presence and I don't think it adds up to a lot more than mfunk's argument. We get nearly two and a half hours of the World According to Jack, and five minutes of Verge (and Von Trier) winking at the audience to say "we know he's crazy, right?" (I also find it very hard to accept Verge as somehow objectively external to Jack, but see below for more on this.) But the larger message of that construction of the film is that Von Trier really isn't interested in anybody apart from Jack. Everybody else, even Verge, is ultimately just a prop. The women in the story are depicted misogynistically, and having a character at one point say "hey, this story is misogynistic!" doesn't really add or subtract from that. It's at best the filmmaker's transparent figleaf.
And this is fine, because I see the film primarily as a provocation. The supposedly "philosophical" elements are pretentious and / or facile - which is also fine, as they're demonstrating how callow Jack is. To me, the Jack / Verge conversations didn't really come across as a dialogue or a grapple with meaningful ideas, as Verge basically just bats the nonsense back at Jack.
If the film is a provocation, it's one specifically tailored to the #MeToo era (Von Trier scans the horizon for the latest sacred cow, and finds it right in front of his face). The biggest giveaway is Jack's clueless incel-esque whine about how "men are always the victims." That's pretty clunky as satire, but when you compare it to Von Trier's clueless whine in the supporting interview about how he was the victim of a rogue moderator who failed to prevent him declaring "I am a Nazi" at Cannes, maybe it isn't satire at all?
And what I mean about the film getting 'outside' the misogyny is what Von Trier does in quite a subtle way elsewhere in the film. Abandon hope of avoiding spoilers all ye who enter here.
I'm really quite surprised that the other commentators in this thread, even those who acknowledge that Jack is an extremely unreliable narrator, take it for granted that he really is the serial killer he claims to be. Because the film never gets outside Jack's version of events, there's no objective evidence that he is, but there are veiled indications that he's a much more ordinary crook than he claims to be.
First, none of his crimes are at all plausible. Maybe this is because Jack is favoured by a God that lets him get away with everything. Maybe it's because he's not actually doing the everything that he claims to be getting away with. This also explains why the women (and most other characters) behave so unrealistically. He simply doesn't have a great imagination, and a very limited understanding of human behaviour.
Second, in Jack's first encounter with the police (during the second incident), they're not investigating a murder, or any act of violence, they're investigating a burglary in the area. Maybe just a minor detail, but it's echoed at the climax . . .
Third, when the police finally catch up with Jack, it's not for any of his professed crimes, but for "robbery". Is he actually a quite different, much less impressive, species of criminal after all?
Fourth, at the very end of the film, Verge tells Jack - and us - that he doesn't belong at the bottom of hell, but "further up". According to Dante (and there are sort of big flashing neon clues that we should be familiar with Dante if we're trying to understand the ending of the film), the Ninth Circle of Hell punishes Treachery, exemplified by Cain, who killed the brother who trusted him. Killing people who trusted him is basically all we see Jack do throughout the film, so if he doesn't belong at the bottom of Hell, what are his actual crimes?
So if what we see in the film didn't actually happen (and if you have trouble swallowing that the last act of the film "didn't actually happen" I don't know what to say to you!), what's really going on here?
My theory, based on the scanty evidence, is that Jack is a petty thief with delusions of grandeur (well, I think we can all agree on the "delusions of grandeur" part). He fantasizes about killing bolshy, or stupid, or trusting, or untrusting women (oh, and lots and lots and
lots of men too - yeah, right), but he never actually does it. In his mind he could, and that's enough for him: he's special because he
could have that power over others. The only thing that could seriously puncture his delusion is capture and arrest for his actual, mediocre crimes, so when the cops close in, he kills himself (presumably with poison - remember the taste of acid in his mouth that is referenced twice in the film?) rather than be confronted with his own mediocrity. In his final pretentious confession (can you get much more self-aggrandizing than having Virgil as your personal guide and confessor?) he constructs the metaphorical "house" of fantasized crimes that Von Trier literalizes for us, and confirms his amazing, delusional badass-ness by going down to the deepest depths of Hell. But, O Hapless Jack!, even there, there's the niggle of his actual, shitty reality that the Virgil part of himself can't help but express: he doesn't actually belong there. He's not the world's greatest serial killer, he's just a very naughty boy. Thus his final act of the film can be read as more than just one last grab at an unlikely brass ring, but as the subconscious assertion of his constructed identity: if he ends up at the very bottom of Hell, then he
must be as bad, as special, as he says he is.