We live in an era when sexual taboos have begun to disappear entirely. If this film was made ten or twenty years ago, Von Trier might have been easily accused of doing something provocative for no other purpose. Today, the limitations on exposure seem like an obstacle, and the 'graphic' depictions of sexuality intermittently permits a greater sense of depth. Nevertheless, this is a film about sex, and Von Trier is a little behind the times in the effort to free his impulses. Compared to something like Gotz Spielman's Antares or Revanche, this is boring and one-dimensional filmmaking, a collage of sexual episodes structured by an awkward voice-over. The narration is fine, but the scenes of conversation between Gainsborough and Skarsgard feature the actors reciting lines that seem unnatural for normal speech. I felt like I was watching scenes from 'Mindwalk' interspersed with bad porn. This is a better film than Antichrist, but as a matter of necessity, Melancholia does more for the viewer. Von Trier has a gift for visuals but fails as a writer and storyteller. Sit through two volumes and four hours of this, well, you must have seen it all before.
Review of Nymphomaniac: Vol. I
