Many of the reviews of Nymphomaniac note that the film's sex is clinical, not prurient, as if that somehow makes it more worthy of attention. I would argue that believable prurient sex is harder to achieve on film than clinical sex. Distancing sex from emotion is a kind of European art house cliche, whereby you're allowed to watch gratuitous nudity because the detached sex signifies serious thought. And the emotionless sex in the Nymphomaniac does begin to wear thin. Nor is it particularly shocking, unless those scenes have been saved for Vol. 2. The film is cannily marketed to exploit arty porno, but then delivers the arty clinical. Despite that, it's refreshing to see a film that's genuinely willing to explore, no just exploit, sexuality.
Von Trier obviously appreciates actors and they deliver great performances with the exception of the badly miscast, always smirking Christian Slater. There's also a narrative disconnect in the film between the heroine as an 8-year-old who's curious about her own sexuality, who soon goes on to full blown sex addiction. Her mother is a "cold bitch" we're told, and she joins a (feminist?) high school girl's club that seeks sex, but forbids love. Maybe Von Trier is suggesting that nymphomania is a reaction to male domination, but I wasn't convinced by the character's leap from curious child to serial fornicator. He also indulges in several overtly mystical metaphors, extended references to the Fibonnaci Sequence and trout fishing, that are initially funny, but soon lapse into repetitive tropes.
On the upside is Nymphomaniac's sweetly dark strain of comedy. In one of the films sharpest scenes, Uma Thurman, as a spurned wife, slogs her young children into the nymphomaniac's apartment to show them the "whoring bed" Daddy has chosen over her own. The tone is straight out of 1950's Joan Crawford. And whether or not you like them, there are bits of Wes Anderson-style animated doodles and intricate diagrams layered onto the images. In a film that includes melodrama, very realistic sex, multimedia visuals, intellectual sparring and a deep vein of black comedy, it's hard to fault the director for lack of ambition. I'm always grateful for the chance to watch interesting film. In the end I felt entertained and challenged, but also disgruntled by Nymphomaniac's lack of cohesion. Subverting genre is now it's own full blown genre, but it's not a license to run amok.
Which may answer the question of why, as the credits roll on Vol. 1, we are bombarded with highlights from Vol. 2. You've just sat through a fairly demanding film and you are, in effect, told to stay tuned for the next installment in which all the mysteries/inconsistencies will find explanation. I'll watch Vol. 2, but I'll be doubly disgruntled if it turns out that the best parts of both movies could have, as I'm beginning to suspect, made one succinct film.
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