Not porn but another "p" word

What to make of Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac: Volume I and Nymphomaniac Volume II which has been playing at Landmark Theatres across the U.S. (I caught Volume I in California and Volume II in Royal Oak). This four hour opus, in two parts of course, ostensibly seems porn and von Trier has jokingly referred to it as such. That’s not my take on it. If someone was really checking these films out for sexual excitement they’d have to wade through, in their view, miles of boring dialogue, and repeatedly explicit scenes that because of their unvarying nature seem more hum drum that stimulating. What did I get out of this? Several things. First, the movie’s central character Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is a Joan of Arc when it comes to proselyting for uncompromising lust and sex free of hypocritical emotions such as love. She repeats this endlessly in different contexts during the movies. Her view is best expressed in Volume I when she literally throws the dice and determines which of her sex partners she will assign various roles. With one she will display utmost affection, and on down the line until the last ones are callously discarded. For her it’s all arbitrary. Don’t take offence because Joe’s vision is honest – she wants sex and sex only - and when people speak of love they’re inevitably hedging their real desires, are deceptive or manipulative, all to get another person into bed. Another theme in Volume II is when the old learned bachelor Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård) suggests to her that she is an outcast of sorts only because she is woman. Men who seek multiple partners and innumerable orgasms are a stereotypical historic norm. Yet there’s a contradiction at the film’s heart (so to speak). Because at some level Joe has developed at least one strong affection, that for her one time paramour Jerôme (Shia LaBeouf), so intense that she ultimately exacts violence over it. Von Trier likes to explore the big questions – what’s life about, what are the base desires that drive human beings. It’s answered here of course: sex. Everything else is for nought, including the high-minded and erudite Seligman’s learned theories and postulations. This being the third in von Trier’s Depression trilogy (the others being Antichrist, 2010 and Melancholia, 2011) Nymphomaniac Volume I and Nymphomaniac Volume II is most like Antichrist in its delving into our most primitive motivations. Besides the story line – basically a chronology of Joe’s sexual life from teenager to middle aged woman – the films are a display of interesting technical filmmaking. Big graphic numbers intrude over the screen to tick off various sexuals conquests or types of orgasms. A geometric chart overlays a scene where Joe is parallel parking, describing every degree of angle by which she must back the car into the space. And the ending credits’ song is a tour de force of a classic (the name Joe’s in the title) courtesy Gainsbourg - who’s also a critically-acclaimed singer - and Beck. Nymphomaniac might seem like porn but, folks, it’s really philosophy.