Nicole Kidman Tribute: Dogville (2003)
Thursday, June 6, 2024 at 2:00PM
EricB in 2003, Dogville, John Hurt, Lars Von Trier, Nicole Kidman

by Eric Blume


If you’ve never seen Dogville, Lars von Trier’s 2003 masterpiece(?) that gives our Nicole three full hours’ worth of very tricky acting, watch it.  Or at least, try to watch it.  You may find it absolutely insufferable, and turn it off even before Nicole appears, twelve minutes in.  This is the definition of a movie not meant for everyone, and perhaps even a movie for almost nobody except a small sliver of people.  But I suppose am one of those people for whom the film was made, and I think it’s fantastic.  And it’s one of my all-time favorite performances by one of cinema’s greatest actresses...


Dogville is a parable, narrated in dulcet tones by John Hurt, structured like a 19th-century novel, told in chapters with subtitles, the style of that day.  The story is maybe told in present day, or in no particular time frame, even though it is a scathing examination of the contemporary American psyche and spirit.  The entire movie takes place on one colossal set, which we see birds-eye in the first shot of the film:  literal chalk outlines of the small town’s main street and the buildings along it.  Characters knock on doors (just standing flats), and other characters mime opening them.  Each character’s home has one or two pieces of standing furniture, but otherwise there are minimal sets. 

The film is what could be called “avant-garde” in that it abandons much of the language of film we’re accustomed to, and instead is presented in a theatrical, indeed Brechtian manner where “reality” is stripped from you, you are forced to concentrate on only the storytelling and characters, while simultaneously always being consciously aware of the acting and artifice.  It’s a balls-to-the-wall style that von Trier, at the height of his power after his killer films Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark, commits to with complete devotion.  It’s an approach that will either draw you in or completely alienate you, but if you dive in, it’s beautifully executed and sickeningly compelling. 

Nicole plays our main character, Grace, a woman who stumbles into this hermetically-sealed town while escaping from mobsters.  These Americans agree for her to remain in the town in exchange for hard labor.  She slowly wins over the townspeople, only to lose them, only to be punished, only to get some compromised form of "vengeance".

In many ways, this may be the single Nicole-iest performance Nicole has ever given.  By that I mean that one of the chief reasons many cinephiles love Kidman is how deeply she turns herself over to her director, changing her style and approach based on the needs of that director for various effect.  And she really shows up for von Trier here.  Much like Emily Watson and Björk before her, Nicole feels like she’ll do anything for von Trier…like there’s no end to what she’s willing to endure in order for him to tell this story in this fashion. 

In hour one, Nicole navigates through Grace being a bit of a cypher.  Her initial terror changes into a quiet humility as she tries to get the lay of this new land, and she turns softly seductive as she works to win over her new community.  We become slowly aware of her intelligence as she subtly manipulates each resident, and Kidman finds a balance between guile and guilelessness that keeps us guessing.  Kidman makes it clear that Grace is the master chess player, but she is also spontaneous and responsive, and genuine, too. 


During the second hour, as the locals slowly turn on Grace, Kidman’s acting objectives switch.  The plan that Grace has artfully established in act one curdles, and we watch her dawning realization that the halting, surface warmth of these Americans has reached its limit.  It’s during this stretch we watch Kidman move from offense to defense.  Her incredulousness over their absurd reprimands and assertion of power is moving and commanding.  Von Trier orchestrates a series of deeply perverse scenes in this act, and it’s Nicole’s deep commitment to going down this horrifying little rabbit hole that give the movie its bite and sting.


The final hour involves two reversals of fortune: one for Grace, and one for the residents of Dogville.  The dark acts in this stretch hit alarmingly disturbing heights.  Nicole spends a portion here in literal slave chains, dragging an iron wheel behind her.  Much has been discussed about the tribulations Von Trier puts his lead actresses through, and we’d need an entirely separate article to talk about this issue.  But taken on its own terms, Kidman is a magnificent muse for von Trier.  These two artists feel on the same page with how Grace’s abuse serves as metaphor for the underbelly of American niceness, and Nicole’s increasingly broken spirit reflects the bottomless capacity for human cruelty.  The American iterations of political spins, social denial, and “you’re for us or against us” ideology is illuminated with blunt force before the coda of this film. 

Dogville’s final chapter and turn, where Grace gets her turnabout, makes us complicit by being so damn satisfying.  Kidman makes a great final spin here, and in a long scene with James Caan, we see who Grace truly is.  We see the degree of playacting she has been doing in Dogville, why she escaped, her moral makeup, and her hypocrises.  The way Kidman plays the layers of moral weight in these final moments is exqusiite. 

Dogville is a purposefully unsubtle film, with a subtle performance by Kidman at its center.  She gives a bone-cold and black-hearted movie a pulse and a warmth.  Her intelligence and gentility imbue Dogville with a painful humanity:  the film would be unthinkable without the combination of toughness and tenderness she brings to it.  But it’s not a big performance: she is always in service to von Trier, to the storytelling, and to the style.  

But her work has a greatness, a weight, here.  It’s a go-for-broke performance in a go-for-broke film.  Her commitment to the piece, a bizarre, difficult, deeply uncomfortable film, shows the lengths to which she will go for a filmmaker.  And it of course speaks to her bravery and bold taste in projects, and her desire to not repeat herself.  Nicole’s performance in Dogville represents so many of the reasons I adore her.

Previously in the Nicole Kidman TFE Tribute: 

 

The next chapter in the Nicole Kidman TFE Tribute will take us to 2004, an important year for the actress, and a varied one, too. But before commercial glitz, and comedic remakes, let's talk Birth.

Article originally appeared on The Film Experience (http://thefilmexperience.net/).
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