Nymphomaniac: Vol. II

Nymph()maniac, if I've to describe in a single sentence, is director Lars von Trier trying to sell his bland & banal softcore as a work of art. Divided into 2 volumes, Nymph()maniac is the final chapter in what is now being labeled as Depression Trilogy (preceded by Antichrist & Melancholia) and tells the story of a self-diagnosed nymphomaniac named Joe recounting her life's sexual experiences to Seligman; the man who found her badly-beaten up in some deserted alley plus who later tries to connect & analyze her stories with whatever he has read about.

Volume 2 picks the story right from where Volume 1 signed off and continues Joe's retelling of her erotic endeavors to Seligman & how she ended up in his care. And, if the previous half of Nymph()maniac had Joe engaging in one sex session after another down to the point that it became repetitive & boring, then this half shows her sexual ventures going a little extreme as director Lars von Trier throws in sadomasochism & pedophilia into the tale to amplify its shock value but it actually ends up even more repulsive than it already was.

The story goes downhill from the already ineffective narration that was present in the previous part, the pace is still sluggish, some sequences are disturbing to watch while others are present just to stir more controversies or irk as many viewers as possible. The performances still don't carry any complains unlike the rest of this film's aspects although the characters continue to remain uninteresting like before. Charlotte Gainsbourg takes over the role of Joe from Stacy Martin in her stories & even Skarsgård gets to do more as Seligman than just be a listener to Joe's endless stories.

On an overall scale, the 2nd & final volume of Nymph()maniac has nothing to offer except for few appalling moments & more philosophical bullshit. What's even more absurd or idiotic is the resolution of the Skarsgård character, Seligman, who so far was being reflected as a wise, caring friend only for the film to throw away all that notion of friendship out the window in its final moments. All in all, there is nothing artistic about this pretentious crap & if one tries to approach it as a porn feature, then the overall experience is even worse. Avant-garde of filmmaking, my ass.

Full review at: cinemaclown.wordpress.com