When we consider all the controversial filmmakers to have worked throughout the history of cinema, none of them is as deserving of the infamy as Lars von Trier. Since the 1990s, he’s been terrorizing audiences with an array of troubling works, and he constantly pushes the boundaries of the cinematic form, even when he is making something relatively sedate and subtle (Dancer in the Dark and Breaking the Waves come to mind as being some of his more palatable works, albeit ones that still retain the same misanthropic underpinnings that have defined the director’s career). From his earliest days as part of the self-obsessed group of young filmmakers operating under the manifesto of Dogme 95, to his more experimental works in recent years, von Trier has been nothing short of a divisive figure – and considering his most recent film is also perhaps his most polarizing, it didn’t seem like he was entering into more accessible territory any time soon. The House That Jack Built is amongst the year’s most controversial films, and from the innumerable walk-outs at the film’s Cannes debut, to the plethora of people who have seen it throughout the course of the year, there was very little doubt that von Trier was still well-within his self-imposed confines of deranged anarchy. I approached The House That Jack Built with two feelings – morbid curiosity and an open mind. I wasn’t expecting a particularly pleasant film, nor a film that would actually elicit even the smallest iota of passion or adoration in me. Unfortunately, my expectations were completely shattered, and I report this news with a heavy heart: I loved The House That Jack Built.

First of all, I need to make this point – I am in no way a Lars von Trier apologist. I find him to be, quite frankly, unbearable, pretentious and entirely vile as a human being, and even though he has made some impressive films (read: not particularly good, but interesting), he has been on a downward spiral into some kind of demented arrogance that has allowed him to spew any range of controversial statements to unexpected audiences. In short, I do hold von Trier in some form of contempt – and while it is important to separate the art from the artist, when we are dealing with an artist who has made it his life’s ambition to imbue his art with his own personal views and ideas, many of which question common moral decency and go against the ethics ingrained in any logical individual, then it becomes increasingly difficult, and we have to view the work as a product of its creator and his or her views. I’m not someone who will voluntarily watch a film by von Trier for entertainment, or for artistic merit, so the fact that The House That Jack Built ended up being something I was willing to endure is unexplainable – but there is a reason I chose to give the film a chance, and this is precisely what I’m trying to say here: The House That Jack Built is a bit of an odd film, because not only does it feel like an outlier in von Trier’s filmography, without escaping the same directorial trademarks that have been the bane of any self-respecting film-lover’s existence, but because this is, for the first time, a film by the filmmaker that doesn’t entirely deserve all the controversy it has received. These aren’t the comforting words of someone desensitized to these kinds of films, but as someone who was expecting a film that would cauterize me, leaving an unpleasant impression on me for a long time, but instead received a film that was, dare I say, actually very good?

Praising von Trier is something not many people necessarily want to do – but its important not to diminish his talents as an artist, because beneath the exterior, there is a filmmaker who has achieved something rare in cinema, especially with his more recent films – he has been able to stir such potent emotion in the audience, making us actively feel something towards his films – and the fact that what we feel is often some combination of hatred, disgust and contempt is inconsequential, because even if we despise the work, we are providing the artist with some reaction. Perhaps its best to look at von Trier as someone who feeds entirely off reaction, and this seems to be what The House That Jack Built is constructed around – eliciting some passionate response from the audience, and he seems to be successful – nearly every reaction to this film I have read has either been of extreme hatred, or ardent admiration – very few are entirely indifferent to the film, and that in itself holds some merit. Certainly, it doesn’t qualify The House That Jack Built as being great art – but it does mean it has achieved something, because the audience is engaged with this film on either end of the spectrum, feeling a strong range of emotions that ultimately results in a roaring success either way you choose to look at it.

To get down to it, The House That Jack Built is quite simple – Jack (Matt Dillon) is a man living in Washington. At the outset of the film, he is a mild-mannered, ordinary man driving a red van down a snowy road (the same van that will be the persistent motif of deception throughout the course of the film). However, this is all to change, as his conversations with an unseen entity named Verge (Bruno Ganz) shows that this is a man rapidly changing – and over the course of over a decade, he becomes a vicious serial killer, murdering dozens upon dozens of people in various ways. The motivation for these killings are not because he just enjoys the act of killing, nor is there any clear motivation rooted in psychological trauma or mental illness (for a psychopath, Jack is remarkably self-aware). The reason is this – Jack is an architect who has not been particularly successful, even failing to build a house for himself, for which he feels shame because he is clearly exceptionally intelligence and his creativity knows no bounds, but unfortunately, his impulses are also limitless. He starts exercising his artistic liberties through murder – each and every incident is not the loss of life, but rather the gaining fo some new artistic expression, a way for him to venture into his creative soul, drawing on his fiercely academic philosophical knowledge to justify his actions, and executing what he believes to be nothing more than intricate art. For Jack, nothing is more beautiful than the deaths of others, and finding new ways to express himself never seems to worry our anti-hero, who frames his career as a killer through five murders which he believes defines him not merely as a serial murderer, but as a profoundly talented artist. The film chronicles these five incidents, interspersing them with discussions between Jack and Verge, as well as other moments of historical footage and flashbacks to Jack’s life outside of psychopathy to show his evolution and the innumerable sources of influence that inspired his flourishing into a deadly killer.

The general public’s fascination with true crime has always astonished me, but not the point where I don’t understand it – like a large portion of society, there is something that interests me about these stories of deception and murder that strikes some chord of curiosity and provokes a certain morbid fascination with the subject. Serial killers have been well-documented in the media, both factual and fictional, and there is an endless supply of crime films and television shows that focus on these unhinged psychopaths gallivanting through a world they are misguided to believe are their own. The psychology of serial killers has been something I have been endlessly interested in, but unfortunately, this side of psychopathy has not been as well-explored as others, with the actual act of deception and killing taking the focus in many instances. This is precisely where The House That Jack Built succeeds – it is not a film only intent on showing the killing of a range of people – in fact, the murder scenes are hardly remarkable and don’t leave much of an impact – but with exploring Jack and his psyche, looking at how he relates art, something liberating and powerful, to murder, something unspeakably malicious. It is a deep and insightful exploration of the nature of killing – and while I don’t think any of us necessarily want to know the methods of murder, understanding what compels someone to take the life of others multiple times speaks to inherent inability to want to understand humanity. To market The House That Jack Built as merely a serial killer film is misguided, because while this is technically what it is built around, it is much more than this and as tempting as it would be to just credit this film to von Trier’s misanthropic leanings, this is a film much deeper than its reputation would suggest.

The central figure of Jack is one of such extraordinary interest – The House That Jack Built is a very long film, clocking in at over two-and-a-half hours, and thus it serves to be a strong character study of an individual. One opinion that has been almost unanimous with what has been said about this film is that Matt Dillon’s performance is undeniably great – even those that despised this film have often mentioned how excellent Dillon was, and I am in complete agreement. Dillon has come a long way from being a teen idol to one of his generation’s most unheralded character actors, but throughout his career, he’s shown a certain passionate intensity present right from the outset in the incredible Rumble Fish, persisting throughout his lengthy career right into The House That Jack Built, that may be his best performance to date. His portrayal of Jack is much more than just a psychotic serial killer, with Dillon venturing into some extraordinarily intense locations of emotion, creating a character that is so fully-realized and fascinating. This is a film about the psychology of a serial killer, and Dillon is terrific in every regard, exploring this character with an abundance of his own curiosity, and it is clearly a role that challenged Dillon, but the result is perhaps the year’s most impressive performance by an actor – and regardless of what one feels towards The House That Jack Built, we can’t deny that Dillon did exceptionally well in bringing this character to life, and he deserves a great deal of acclaim, even if the film itself may deserve it in the eyes of some viewers.

It is difficult to defend this film, even if I thought it was a powerful and striking piece, with the idea of someone loving The House That Jack Built being more controversial than the film itself. Yet, it would be dishonest if I pretended I didn’t think von Trier made a great film here. If we detach the artist and his hobby of making outlandish and offensive statements from the film, we see something harrowing and haunting, but also extremely fascinating. We can’t deny that this isn’t an unsettling film – and von Trier breaks the one rule that I personally feel should never be crossed in any medium – the unnecessary killing of children or animals, which never has any place in any work. Not to mention this film can be viewed as being extremely sexist, with the majority of Jack’s victims being women. The fact that he was a killer that mainly targeted women (although not exclusively, as he makes sure to note) is not particularly out of the ordinary, as there are many serial killers who preyed on woman as a way of asserting their patriarchal dominance – but it is in the way that women are presented that is most troubling. Throughout The House That Jack Built, all the women are shown to be stereotypes – Uma Thurman plays the icy woman who motivates Jack to become a serial killer through her juvenile provocation. Siobhan Fallon Hogan plays the gullible woman who can be deceived so easily, and Riley Keough is the archetypal “dumb blonde” who is seen as being hysterical when she isn’t being shown as a fool to Jack’s malicious and dangerous games – she is even nicknamed “Simple”. In von Trier’s defence (there’s a sentence I never thought I’d write), The House That Jack Built isn’t anti-women insofar as it is an unsettling portrayal of the way women are represented through the male gaze, especially in fictional works. The women in this film are one-dimensional and don’t have much character or personality other than being tools upon which Jack can assert his evil doings. This would be troubling and the controversy would be earned if the film didn’t explicitly comment on this tendency to misrepresent women as lesser beings, as objects of patriarchal control. Of course in the current social climate, where inclusion and equality are imperative, a film like The House That Jack Built, where violence on women is the focal point, just isn’t appropriate and is bound to cause unnecessary controversy. Yet, I think von Trier’s history of bigotry and controversy, combined with the terrifying nature of this film, creates the notion that this is a film that doesn’t have any other intention other than being the deranged fantasy of a glorified sadist who relishes in the apoplectic reactions of audiences. Perhaps in the hands of a less-controversial filmmaker, the underlying message of The House That Jack Built would have been received more warmly and through a far-less critical lens – but I think we can all agree not many filmmakers would dare to make something as cruel as this film.

Therefore, what is it that makes The House That Jack Built such a worthwhile film? Firstly, it is important to mention how this film’s reputation has greatly exaggerated the final product – The House That Jack Built is not more violent than your standard serial-killer thriller, and most of its murder scenes are brief and uneventful – there are some truly disturbing moments scattered consistently throughout the film, but not enough to qualify this is a film that will desensitise the audience to the subject matter. It isn’t a pleasant film to watch, but its definitely not one that will threaten the viewer’s sanity. It is centrally-focused on the psychology of psychopathy, and as I’ve mentioned before, it is extremely effective in doing so. Moreover, only Lars von Trier could’ve made this film – no other filmmaker has the audacity to present this kind of story in this way – only von Trier could take the story of a serial killer and not only make a deeply unsettling film, but also an entirely absurd and surreal one. The ending of The House That Jack Built has to be one of the most ludicrous ever committed to film – and only von Trier could pull it off. Having our titular anti-hero literally descending into Hell with the guidance of a gentle Virgil has about as much subtletly as the large-scale murders committed throughout the film. The filmmaker was faced with two decisions – to keep it logical and realistic, or to venture into the region of absurdity, and it is clear where von Trier chose to take this film. There are some choices throughout the film that are questionable – such as the first murder, where Jack kills his first victim with, you guessed it, a jack, or the fact that the film ends with him falling into the fiery pits of Hell while “Hit the Road Jack” plays. These self-referential moments are undeniably heavy-handed, but lend the film an abnormal sense of humour. A controversial point, but The House That Jack Built is often a very funny film – more than anything else, there is a darkly comical undercurrent flowing throughout the film, and we see von Trier teasing the audience, daring us to laugh and go against all moral decency by finding the ridiculously inappropriate levity in this harrowing film. I’d argue that the dark comedy is precisely what makes The House That Jack Built so disturbing – it is one thing to make the audience scream in horror, but to dare us to laugh is something else entirely, because deriving any positivity from such horrifying circumstances is bound to make us question our own morals and fascination with such subjects.

For what its worth, I didn’t set out to deliberately enjoy The House That Jack Built – and in many ways, I am disappointed that I didn’t see the same hideous mess others seem to have experienced, because while this is certainly not a film for the faint of heart or those that don’t particularly enjoy tales of metaphysical journeys of ultraviolent ramblings, it is far from being the wreck its reputation has asserted on it. It is a well-made film, a psychological horror that subverts expectations, often being extremely striking (the epilogue that sees Jack travelling through Hell is tragically gorgeous) and often sardonic in its pitch-black humour. In all honesty, The House That Jack Built can’t be derided while something like Man Bites Dog (which is similarly-bleak in how it portrays the psychology of serial killing through clinically cold and darkly comical misanthropy) is revered and held as a pinnacle of psychological prowess. The “murder is art” storyline that is central to this film is disconcerting and might inspire a fit of despair in the viewer, but it certainly is executed effectively, and the film as a whole seems to convey exactly what von Trier intended. The House That Jack Built is a powerful film, and the fact that it is the year’s most polarizing film, a work that has divided audiences – some adoring it, others being entirely bewildered by it – just means that it has served its purpose. It will never (nor should it ever) escape its divisive nature – at this point “controversial” and “von Trier” are synonymous – but it does leave an impression on the audience. This is not some misunderstood work – and every reaction to this film, whether positive or negative, is valid and truthful. We may never reach a definitive conclusion regarding this film, but I’m sure we can all agree on one thing: The House That Jack Built is an experience like no other, and it won’t be departing the mind of the viewer any time soon. The House That Jack Built is certainly unforgettable – whether one wants to forget it or not is another matter entirely.