Musicals. A genre I have so sparsely dipped into in my own personal time, but have never really reviewed on account of my noticeable lack of knowledge. I previously reviewed The Blues Brothers, but I always viewed that as more of a comedy. With an article that I am currently writing alongside this one, it’s left me thinking about what film within this almost foreign genre I could cover. No film feels more appropriate to me than the dark and depressing tale of Dancer in the Dark. In a bold attempt at turning Bjork from a transcendental pop singer into a small-time actor, Dancer in the Dark is more than just a simple vehicle. A film that presents this idealistic view of America as more of a hellish struggle to live even the slightest bit luxury. This isn’t a glamorous, picturesque fantasy that most musicals would try to convince you of; it’s the escape the main character needs to get away from the ferocious onslaught of mental anguish that comes her way. With all this happiness that I’m promoting to you, allow me to dive into one man’s cynical view of Western society with Lars von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark.
Bjork stars as factory worker, Selma, a Czech immigrant who came to America to live the life of a stage performer, fascinated by the famous musicals that presented the country as a glamorous fantasy-world. While spends time performing a the local theater, she works at a manufacturing company so that she can raise money for an operation that will prevent her son from going blind, a hereditary illness that she is slowly succumbing to herself. Living a small house in the back garden of her landlords, Linda (Cara Seymour) and Bill (David Morse), she finds herself put in a predicament when Bill asks her for money due to financial woes. The good-natured Selma agrees to do this as long as they keep each other’s secrets. But as if things couldn’t be more strenuous, Linda begins to catch on to the two, believing they are having an affair, all the while, Bill begins to manipulate Selma into giving him more money. With all the pain and stress that infects her life, Selma’s only escape is to imagine the world as an elaborate musical.
As mentioned before, musicals are not exactly my forte, but above all, it’s the drama and conflict that drives this film forward. The story of an immigrant coming to America and struggling to get anywhere in the world is one that has been told a thousand times over, but what makes “Dancer”so unique is this almost pessimistic view. As apathetic as it sounds, I find a lot of fascination from a character being thrown through the worst conditions. This saddened direction is a reflection of capitalistic society and how it treats those who are of the lower class. Selma, performed quite organically by Bjork who give a shockingly great first-time performance, is entirely sympathetic, someone who isn’t cruel and simply desires the need to survive and doesn’t want her son to struggle the way she has. Any other film would find a turning point for the lead character to finally get what they want, a hard-earned journey for both them and the viewer, but this film doesn’t want you to believe in this idea. If things begin to turn around, know that it will not last long.
Selma’s waning eyesight adds so much more than just a simple narrative device. If it wasn’t hard enough watching such a kind and selfless person suffer from financial struggle, having her slowly succumb to a debilitating illness is all the more gut-wrenching. Every action she performs is all for the sake of her son, adding to this depressed reality of how the poverty-stricken masses are left fallen over the American anvil. It’s a struggle that I feel anyone who has endured the strife of being a single parent can relate to, universal from the immigrant background Selma has.
Selma’s landlords provide an extra crutch to this tale of woe. Bill is essentially the villain of the story. He starts almost as sympathetic as Selma herself, but as the movie progresses, his methods in trying to exploit Selma’s good nature become more and more heartless. I found myself internally conflicted with Bill’s situation. In a sense, you understand where he’s coming from: a man who wants to provide for his wife but is always on the verge of financial collapse, but on the other hand, his knowledge of Selma’s eventual blindness makes his exploitation far more callous. There’s this idea that those who are born and bred in America are victim to this money-driven society as well.
Perhaps it’s time to talk about the musical aspect of this film. With how I described the film’s overall tone, it really doesn’t speak to the typicality of the genre. Musicals are often presented as these idealistic views of the world, and Dancer goes in the complete opposite direction, or so it would appear to be. The musical numbers stretch out to specific moments, much like the conventional structure. Unlike those, however, the numbers here are contextualized to Selma’s moments of daydreaming. Frequently, when the stress and boredom of the world weigh down on her, Selma creates these elaborate musical numbers in her head. The moodier lighting that runs throughout turn into a saturated world of energy and colorfulness. Characters burst out into overly-choreographed dance numbers and reality shifts into something far more wild. All of this is punctuated by Bjork’s oddly soothing voice.
How much you enjoy the music of this film can be entirely dependent on how much you enjoy Bjork’s music. As someone who is not that musically knowledgeable, I haven’t ventured too far into the Icelandic singer’s catalog, but I did find myself slowly falling in love with the soundtrack. ‘I’ve Seen It All’ is a song about Selma’s acceptance towards her blindness, only wanting her son to see the world through her eyes and ‘107 Steps’ is a beautiful ballad that sends the character off on her next step in life that feels overwhelming in emotion. These two songs are the most notable ones for myself, but the entire soundtrack is something to listen to, even if you’re indifferent towards Bjork’s style.
What is immediately apparent with the technical aspects of this film is how incredibly low-budget everything feels. The camera quality is noticeably ‘amateurish’ and looks like something anyone could’ve recorded in their spare time. The acting, camerawork and editing all reflect this raw style that could easily throw the average person off. It’s this specific aesthetic, however, that I feel strengthens the tone and narrative of the film. It makes it feel so much more real, as if to be placed side by side with all these characters. It’s not unnatural for film directors to do this for their first films, but this was a little later on down Trier’s filmography. Lars von Trier did have a certain mentality about making films with the bare essentials, and while this film wasn’t purposely approached with that direction, it’s a much needed approach.
Dancer in the Dark is one of those independent films that may be hard to recommend to just anyone. Lars von Trier has made some truly experimental and controversial films like Antichrist and Nymphomaniac, so Dancer feels more pulled back from those. It’s a depressing spin on the conventional musical tropes and doesn’t hold back on its political message. I’m always cautious about the types of musicals I tend to watch, so I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this one. The first half has a very slow and awkward build, but turns into something so much more intense in the second half. That is not to say that the first half is lacking, but that second half really convinced me that there was something special to it. To those looking for a pleasant and idyllic view of the world, this is definitely not it, but for those who are looking for something entirely unique, Dancer in the Dark is a must see. The ending left me feeling haunted for weeks on end, and it’s something that pops up in my mind more than I would like. If that doesn’t sell you, then I don’t know what will. Check it out.
Side note: Add this to the small list of films that actually made me cry. That scene will never leave.
Written review by Conor Johnson.
Conor's Corner of Criticism 
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