Highly recommend Jacob Holdt's "American Pictures," which contains all the photographs used in the end roll and captures a lot of what von Trier says here. A Dane hitchhiked through the states in the 70s and took pictures of the worst poverty he saw (and also wrote very humanizing portraits of the country's victims). Was formative for understanding the USA in my 20s.
i watched this on an iPod classic while i was packaging books at work, and it was still a really, really rough time.
(also, can i confess that Ebert's "empathy" quote always rings a little self-congratulatory to me? movies can generate empathy, but it's a fleeting, complicated feeling that's often as much about assimilating differences into the illusion of commonality as it is about instilling appreciation and respect for others--that's not even a bad thing, but these days, i get defensive about the art that needs to accomplish a concrete social good, rather than just it existing and giving pleasure and texture to life being enough.)
Is not empathy at the heart of giving texture to life? Exploring the nuance of a character, even an abhorrent one, and considering how they experience the world (or plot) and exist in the setting is all about texture and requires empathy.
The caveat being that not all filmmakers, writers or actors are able to draw the audience in like this.
It's hard at times like these not to think there's an unfixable bug buried deep in America's source code -- or really, in humanity's source code. Von Trier may be right about that. But I might feel warmer toward him if I felt there were even an implied "Now let's think about what we could do better next time" to his work. (Not that I feel warm toward much right about now.)
Great piece. I had one thought about the ending—I may be misreading Von Trier, or it could be just a personal response, but I felt like the catharsis of the ending ultimately implicated the audience in the violence. It showed us that we, too, could enjoy the suffering of others if it was for the "right" reasons and served our own emotional needs. So in that way it kind of extended one of the central themes of the film out into the real world, which I thought was brilliant. And you could pretty easily connect that to the discourse today, too, how much we love seeing our enemies get what's coming, how sometimes that's even more important than actually advancing a good cause.
That's an interesting thought, and definitely in line with Von Trier's other work in terms of how he can be confrontational (or teasing) with his audience. I took the ending more at face value-- that the town of Dogville was not redeemable and deserved to be razed. But perhaps you're right that the impulse to do that or approve of that should be questioned as well.
Yeah I think that was my take because it seemed like it was filmed to make the audience feel like "the right thing" was happening even though it involved children being gunned down, mothers screaming, etc. After all that had come before it seemed "just," but that catharsis overwhelms our revulsion at that kind of violence. To me it seemed both "this needs to be burned down" and "this urge, even when exercised for the right reasons, is at the root of humanity's failure," or something like that.
"filmed to make the audience feel like 'the right thing' was happening"
The 3-hour runtime contributes to this, in my experience. I saw it as the final film of five in a single day at a festival, a schedule with some challenges and scarce levity. So by the time the carnage arrives at the end at least some of the crowd's applause, I think, was just enthusiasm at being offered some kind of catharsis.
In his book “Why We’re Polarized,” Ezra Klein describes social experiments that demonstrate a tendency in humans to choose actions that will harm a perceived group of others, even when they have the chance to choose actions that will benefit would benefit everyone equally, their own in-group included. So this seems right on.
I saw this in a theater, and found it quite moving. My takeaway from it was a religious allegory - Grace was the gift (aka Jesus) that humans abused and betrayed. My much younger self was not versed in the ways of Von Trier, other than knowing the movie would not be "fun."
As someone who has carried water for this film for years, recommending it to people who would inevitably despise me for "making" them watch it and never again take me up on my suggestions ("Sure, John, I'm sure Paddington 2 is a great watch...just like Dogville!"), I was giddy to see it as the topic of Mr. Tobias's essay. I did wonder why, assuming it must be some sort of anniversary. Then I got to THE LINE. Thanks for writing this at this particular time in the Great American Experiment, Scott.
As for the idea of empathy, or Lars's seeming lack thereof, I would throw out that sometimes the idea of a film's empathy is not tethered to a character. What if what we are supposed to empathize with is von Triers's point of view? Meta, I know, but the damn setting is a sound stage with outlines, so it feels in keeping with the vibe of the thing.
I found myself empathizing with the director's dim view of American exceptionalism and found value in sitting with the hopelessness on display if only to have a moment to reflect on our failings of humanity and wonder how we do better.
So I ask: Is Dogville actually an empathetic call to action?
I’ll always remember sitting in the small art theater in my college town watching that brutal ending followed by Young Americans over the photographs of America’s failures to help its own. Moved me deeply, so maybe Von Trier isn’t completely bereft of empathy.
That's the thing, right? If you don't care about, say, the plight of the poor and/or immigrant class in America, you don't make a movie like Dogville. Critiquing the hypocrisies of a country or a system as harshly as Lars does here feels morally appropriate.
Jun 30, 2022·edited Jun 30, 2022Liked by Scott Tobias
I struggle with definitions and the slippery lines between them, but to me it's definitely not anti-humanity - as it's about the human condition and the worst parts of it. I'm not quite sure what an anti-human film would be - one that not only centres a non-human point of view but argues for their primacy over human - so goes beyond critiquing human exceptionalism? It is anti-human, as it's showing the worst part of humans and the consequences of when that comes to the fore, both individually and as a collective, and whether we deserve our spot on this earth. Though anti-human implies he's making a judgement, and I feel Dogville is making a case, but the judgement is left to us.
I would not describe Dogville as humanist as humanist I feel has come to be associated with things that are the better side of us, or an immersion in everyday life and the mundane moments of our trying to be human, in a holistic way, the joy and the drudge, I think of realism when I think of humanist films. Dogville is a little bit too abstract and dwelling on one side for that. But then again, I think of Roy Andersson as a humanist filmaker, and he's a little abstract, and concludes some of his film with the horrors of the human race. Is Dogville any different? Roy Andersson says it's hard being a human. And Dogville shows us that. So actually maybe Dogville is humanist! This now makes me think of the film the Human Condition...
Anyway it is definitely empathic. I think part of the problem is as we think of empathy as a positive thing, this comes to be associated with positive emotions. But all empathy is asking us to sit with emotions, usually others, but in this case a collective emotion, or an emotion that is less acknowledged in ourselves. I don't feel Dogville is just showing us emotions, or just creating sympathy. But using empathy to feel discomfort and uncomfortableness. By sitting with feelings, impulses, that we may try to ignore or deal with as we may try to keep up the veneer that we're vaguely moral decent people (is this a bit like what decolonising work does? I have only read basic stuff about this in relation to education and museum work). Through this is a call to action. As to me it feels like the film asks us what are we going to do about these feelings as an individual and as a collective? If Lars didn't care, would he bother asking?
Thank you for this piece. It's made me attempt some critical thinking. As I also have been thinking about Dogville in light of recent events, and I've been thinking about humanist films and the work of being empathetic but I haven't put it all together.
Highly recommend Jacob Holdt's "American Pictures," which contains all the photographs used in the end roll and captures a lot of what von Trier says here. A Dane hitchhiked through the states in the 70s and took pictures of the worst poverty he saw (and also wrote very humanizing portraits of the country's victims). Was formative for understanding the USA in my 20s.
i watched this on an iPod classic while i was packaging books at work, and it was still a really, really rough time.
(also, can i confess that Ebert's "empathy" quote always rings a little self-congratulatory to me? movies can generate empathy, but it's a fleeting, complicated feeling that's often as much about assimilating differences into the illusion of commonality as it is about instilling appreciation and respect for others--that's not even a bad thing, but these days, i get defensive about the art that needs to accomplish a concrete social good, rather than just it existing and giving pleasure and texture to life being enough.)
Is not empathy at the heart of giving texture to life? Exploring the nuance of a character, even an abhorrent one, and considering how they experience the world (or plot) and exist in the setting is all about texture and requires empathy.
The caveat being that not all filmmakers, writers or actors are able to draw the audience in like this.
It's hard at times like these not to think there's an unfixable bug buried deep in America's source code -- or really, in humanity's source code. Von Trier may be right about that. But I might feel warmer toward him if I felt there were even an implied "Now let's think about what we could do better next time" to his work. (Not that I feel warm toward much right about now.)
Great piece. I had one thought about the ending—I may be misreading Von Trier, or it could be just a personal response, but I felt like the catharsis of the ending ultimately implicated the audience in the violence. It showed us that we, too, could enjoy the suffering of others if it was for the "right" reasons and served our own emotional needs. So in that way it kind of extended one of the central themes of the film out into the real world, which I thought was brilliant. And you could pretty easily connect that to the discourse today, too, how much we love seeing our enemies get what's coming, how sometimes that's even more important than actually advancing a good cause.
That's an interesting thought, and definitely in line with Von Trier's other work in terms of how he can be confrontational (or teasing) with his audience. I took the ending more at face value-- that the town of Dogville was not redeemable and deserved to be razed. But perhaps you're right that the impulse to do that or approve of that should be questioned as well.
Yeah I think that was my take because it seemed like it was filmed to make the audience feel like "the right thing" was happening even though it involved children being gunned down, mothers screaming, etc. After all that had come before it seemed "just," but that catharsis overwhelms our revulsion at that kind of violence. To me it seemed both "this needs to be burned down" and "this urge, even when exercised for the right reasons, is at the root of humanity's failure," or something like that.
"filmed to make the audience feel like 'the right thing' was happening"
The 3-hour runtime contributes to this, in my experience. I saw it as the final film of five in a single day at a festival, a schedule with some challenges and scarce levity. So by the time the carnage arrives at the end at least some of the crowd's applause, I think, was just enthusiasm at being offered some kind of catharsis.
In his book “Why We’re Polarized,” Ezra Klein describes social experiments that demonstrate a tendency in humans to choose actions that will harm a perceived group of others, even when they have the chance to choose actions that will benefit would benefit everyone equally, their own in-group included. So this seems right on.
I saw this in a theater, and found it quite moving. My takeaway from it was a religious allegory - Grace was the gift (aka Jesus) that humans abused and betrayed. My much younger self was not versed in the ways of Von Trier, other than knowing the movie would not be "fun."
As someone who has carried water for this film for years, recommending it to people who would inevitably despise me for "making" them watch it and never again take me up on my suggestions ("Sure, John, I'm sure Paddington 2 is a great watch...just like Dogville!"), I was giddy to see it as the topic of Mr. Tobias's essay. I did wonder why, assuming it must be some sort of anniversary. Then I got to THE LINE. Thanks for writing this at this particular time in the Great American Experiment, Scott.
As for the idea of empathy, or Lars's seeming lack thereof, I would throw out that sometimes the idea of a film's empathy is not tethered to a character. What if what we are supposed to empathize with is von Triers's point of view? Meta, I know, but the damn setting is a sound stage with outlines, so it feels in keeping with the vibe of the thing.
I found myself empathizing with the director's dim view of American exceptionalism and found value in sitting with the hopelessness on display if only to have a moment to reflect on our failings of humanity and wonder how we do better.
So I ask: Is Dogville actually an empathetic call to action?
I’ll always remember sitting in the small art theater in my college town watching that brutal ending followed by Young Americans over the photographs of America’s failures to help its own. Moved me deeply, so maybe Von Trier isn’t completely bereft of empathy.
That's the thing, right? If you don't care about, say, the plight of the poor and/or immigrant class in America, you don't make a movie like Dogville. Critiquing the hypocrisies of a country or a system as harshly as Lars does here feels morally appropriate.
I struggle with definitions and the slippery lines between them, but to me it's definitely not anti-humanity - as it's about the human condition and the worst parts of it. I'm not quite sure what an anti-human film would be - one that not only centres a non-human point of view but argues for their primacy over human - so goes beyond critiquing human exceptionalism? It is anti-human, as it's showing the worst part of humans and the consequences of when that comes to the fore, both individually and as a collective, and whether we deserve our spot on this earth. Though anti-human implies he's making a judgement, and I feel Dogville is making a case, but the judgement is left to us.
I would not describe Dogville as humanist as humanist I feel has come to be associated with things that are the better side of us, or an immersion in everyday life and the mundane moments of our trying to be human, in a holistic way, the joy and the drudge, I think of realism when I think of humanist films. Dogville is a little bit too abstract and dwelling on one side for that. But then again, I think of Roy Andersson as a humanist filmaker, and he's a little abstract, and concludes some of his film with the horrors of the human race. Is Dogville any different? Roy Andersson says it's hard being a human. And Dogville shows us that. So actually maybe Dogville is humanist! This now makes me think of the film the Human Condition...
Anyway it is definitely empathic. I think part of the problem is as we think of empathy as a positive thing, this comes to be associated with positive emotions. But all empathy is asking us to sit with emotions, usually others, but in this case a collective emotion, or an emotion that is less acknowledged in ourselves. I don't feel Dogville is just showing us emotions, or just creating sympathy. But using empathy to feel discomfort and uncomfortableness. By sitting with feelings, impulses, that we may try to ignore or deal with as we may try to keep up the veneer that we're vaguely moral decent people (is this a bit like what decolonising work does? I have only read basic stuff about this in relation to education and museum work). Through this is a call to action. As to me it feels like the film asks us what are we going to do about these feelings as an individual and as a collective? If Lars didn't care, would he bother asking?
Thank you for this piece. It's made me attempt some critical thinking. As I also have been thinking about Dogville in light of recent events, and I've been thinking about humanist films and the work of being empathetic but I haven't put it all together.