Antichrist beats me at my own game  

Monday, October 26, 2009

Every now and then, a movie comes along that I can't bring myself to pay to see. There are some movies you just shouldn't have to tell another human being that you would like to watch. But after hearing from multiple sources what otherworldly shit Lars Von Treir's Antichrist is, I knew I had to see it. Online. Alone. In the privacy of my own home. For free.

By now you've probably figured out Tom and my M.O. We intentionally seek out things we expect to find stupid, and then, when proven correct, we make fun of those things on the internet. So was my intention for Antichrist, but the more I watched, the more I came to believe this movie was making fun of me for believing I live in a rational world where self-disemboweling foxes don't speak English, or where roving bands of faceless women don't patrol the woods. This movie had decided that it was going to beat me at my own game, in a concerted effort to kill every part of me. The part that never saw Willem Dafoe's balls before dies first, approximately one minute in.

After seeing Willem Dafoe boning his mother, a small child throws himself out of a second story window, as any sane child would react under similar circumstances. I respond with a joke about Eric Clapton, but this movie came for a fight. After 50 minutes of Dafoe's ridiculously boring attempts to psychoanalyze his grieving wife, the movie comes back strong with the afore mentioned fox, in a scene so stupid I lack the words to even make fun of it:

The movie senses I am dazed, and moves in with a vengeance. Dafoe's wife smashes his testicles with a piece of lumber, and then masturbates him until he ejaculates blood. While he is unconscious from the pain, she drills a hole through his ankle and screws a grindstone through it. By this point, I'm starting to have fond memories of Vampires vs. Zombies.

For some reason, they launch into another round of psychotherapy. At this point, my pride has overruled my rational mind and multiple other body systems which are ordering me to stop. I am determined to finish this movie.

The movie decides it's time for more genital mutilation. This time, the woman turns on herself. Rusty scissors. Vag. Stupid squirt sound effect. Ok, movie, you win.

Antichrist has beaten me at my own game, because there is nothing I can say to make this movie more ridiculous than it actually is. The only joke is on me, because I watched it.

1 comments: to “ Antichrist beats me at my own game

  • Tom Foss
    4:01 PM  

    Judd H. Nelson, that sounds terrible.

    Is it bad that I kind of want to watch it now?

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