Epidemic

In one of the strangest films about the creative process ever devised, director Lars von Trier and screenwriter Niels Vorsel hole up in a secluded European villa to collaborate on their latest script, a sweeping, apocalyptic vision of Europe being overtaken by a deadly epidemic. After a long session of brainstorming, smoking, and writer's block (with the aid of an uncooperative computer), the two men adjourn to the real world where they join actor Udo Kier. Segments of their scenario gradually intrude into the film proper, where the disease seems to spreading from their psyche and into reality. Or is it? A fond lover of narrative distancing devices such as the bare-bones theatrical scheme of Dogville or the hundred-camera musical numbers of Dancer in the Dark, von Trier displays an already daring willingness to upend the conventions of cinema with Epidemic, his second theatrical feature following the deliberately obtuse The Element of Crime. Perhaps even less accessible, this film was rarely screened outside Europe and would have proven completely confounding without any of his later films as a Rosetta stone for reference. Fans of the director will revel in the constant gamesmanship and wonderfully ominous, darkly comic atmosphere; often referred to as the middle entry in a trilogy with Zentropa/Europa, the film works up a suitably feverish air through its stark black and white photography and chilling theme of a country swallowed up seemingly overnight. In a sense it makes the perfect forerunner to Zentropa, whose more polished monochromatic photography also augmented a study of Europe disintegrating thanks to passivity and "werewolves." As if there were any doubt, the films also share a fascination with hypnosis and bizarre interjections of color, in this case thanks to the presence of a red "Epidemic" brand seared into the corner of the frame for much of the running time. Home Vision's DVD presents Epidemic in an appropriately gritty-looking anamorphic transfer. The framing looks extremely tight on the top and bottom but apparently received the creators' seal of approval; older video editions have more headroom, but the loss isn't disastrous. The black and white photography alternates between 16mm and 35mm with predictably uneven results, though it's appropriate given the subject matter. Von Trier and Vorsel (who reunited for Zentropa and both remarkable miniseries installments of The Kingdom) team up for an enjoyable commentary track that doesn't shed much light on the film but reveals much about their natural friendship and professional partnership; their rapport in the film evidently didn't require much of an acting stretch. As many international cinema fans know, von Trier and company later established the Dogme 95 manifesto whose ten cardinal rules (hand held cameras, all natural lighting, etc.) yielded a series of features of wildly divergent quality. Von Trier has intimated on more than one occasion that the whole thing was simply established as a stunt, but enough participants took it seriously to turn out a series of visually shaky, emotionally spare features including some bona fide masterpieces like The Celebration. (Unfortunately von Trier's own sole contribution to the Dogme cycle, The Idiots, pales in comparison.) For the main video supplement on this disc, von Trier appears with Wim Wenders, frequent acting collaborator Jean-Marc Barr, and Lone Scherfig for a moderated discussion edited in real time as a 52-minute film, "FreeDogme." Filmed in separate locations, each participant is filmed with his own digital cameras from a variety of viewpoints, resulting in some strikingly weird visuals that often overwhelm whatever the speaker is trying to convey. The chat ranges from sincere to unbearably pretentious; Barr comes off best overall, mainly in his apt comparison of the Dogme process to impressionism. Overall it's a fine little piece and a good companion to other von Trier short studies like "Tranceformer." The DVD also contains a von Trier filmography, a liner notes manifesto by von Trier, and for Easter Egg hunters, an early 8-minute von Trier short film, "Nocturne," a 1980 student film made with Tomas Gislason (complete with optional audio commentary). For more information about Epidemic, visit Home Vision Entertainment. To order Epidemic, go to TCM Shopping. by Nathaniel Thompson