Sensitive
viewers whose blood boiled at the anti-American sentiments
in “Dogville” better steer far far away from
“Manderlay.” Danish director Lars von Trier
is at it again, continuing his "America" trilogy
with this second installment of Brechtian cinema. Once again,
the implementation of oh-so-lofty ideals is attacked --
where the first movie more broadly targeted the facileness
of the advertised notion of a "land of opportunity,"
“Manderlay” focuses on slavery, its legacy,
and how the wound doesn't heal with abolition.
This time the
heroine Grace is played by Bryce Dallas Howard, taking over
for Nicole Kidman. She arrives at a plantation named Manderlay,
where it seems slavery has survived 70 years after its national
abolishment. Under her sense of moral justice, Grace liberates
the slaves, but her father (Willem Dafoe) warns they may
be ill-equipped to deal with freedom in the world outside.
Grace then decides to stay and oversee their development
as an independent enterprising community for at least a
year.
Naturally, things
don't go so smoothly. Von Trier intends to show how a far-reaching
unjust policy isn't so easily wiped away with good intentions
and an attempt to institute new, supposedly liberating ideals.
Grace meets resistance where she least expects it; she takes
pride in her progressive ideas, only to have them backfire;
and she fails to properly account for the natural human
weaknesses and conflicts which inevitably produce discomforting
consequences that will challenge adherence to high ideals.
The illustration
is a criticism of the core principle of the U.S. foundation,
i.e., freedom as the impetus for social and governmental
policy; it gains relevance through its robustness. The scenario
lends itself to several interpretations, such as a commentary
on a U.S. foreign policy that sees democracy as the standard
all other nations would welcome. Regarding race relations
in this country, “Manderlay” posits how the
U.S. brought over an inescapable, socially repercussive
shift when slavery was introduced; more to the point, it
emphasizes the degree of this shift. Its aftereffects touch
so many people in so many different ways that it's practically
childish to believe we've made considerable progress as
a harmonious society in the 140 years since freedom was
granted.
A pessimistic
suggestion, yes, and that's but one interpolated discussion
from this film’s concise main point. It's an attack
on the U.S. tendency to simplify situations and solutions,
valuing shortsighted immediacy over patience, using "democracy"
and "freedom" as blanket cure-alls while ignoring
the complexities of outsider cultures. These concerns aren't
unfamiliar, but what makes Von Trier so inciting is how
his attacks are so deliberate, and from an outsider's point
of view. This is a man who lives outside our house loudly
criticizing how our family is living. But whether we like
it or not, Von Trier's arguments have a universal social
insight that would be detrimental to ignore. There's always
value in seeing something from another's perspective, and
that's what these movies allow for.
Von Trier uses
the spare form of the movie to make sure the arguments are
paid attention to -- the constant reminder of artifice and
the didactic narration and flow of the story is meant to
keep the viewer thinking. It's a conscious style with the
air of a lecture, as stripped down as possible; but it may
be a minor weakness of “Manderlay” that it has
“Dogville” to compare itself to. “Dogville”
had more confidently-written scenes, less explicit exposition
of themes, and stronger overall acting (Howard, as great
as she was in her debut in “The Village”, has
too difficult a climb to match up to Kidman here).
But “Dogville”
also had what must have been an unintended ace up its sleeve
-- viewer emotional empathy for the protagonist. Placing
Grace as the victim in the first movie automatically granted
her sympathy; in “Manderlay,” which is no less
fierce a movie, her utilitzation as a tool in a political
parable is more pronounced. Frankly, there's no more effective
way to communicate to the American audience than to offer
a character we can express concern over. I guess it makes
blistering criticism that much easier to swallow.