Planet Lars
in person
At 50, maverick director Lars von Trier seems to be taking a lighter approach to life and art. Sterling magazine went to his movie-making headquarters and discovered him in buoyant mood
words by Lucy Mussportrait photography by Nicolas Guerin / Corbis
Lars von Trier is bounding around Zentropa, his Lego-shaped lair, like head boy. It’s the morning after the world premiere of his latest film Direktøren for det hele (The Boss of It All), which was attended by 1,100 people at the Imperial in Copenhagen, Denmark’s largest cinema. Despite his alleged dislike of public appearances, Trier seems unruffled by the whirr and click of the gathered photographers’ zoom lenses. Indeed, his well trimmed beard spread over bear-like jowls, and his Harry Potter spectacles framing squinty brown eyes, give the impression of a cuddly-toy persona that belies his grizzly-bear reputation.
Not unlike Francis Ford Coppola’s family-run company Zoetrope, von Trier’s Zentropa is a world of his own. Set in a converted military base just outside Copenhagen, this is the inspirational hub through which most of Denmark’s contemporary filmmakers have, or will, pass at some point. As we perch on beanbags, huddled in his home-from-home of a cinema, the director is in his element: “Welcome to Cannes,” he grins.
Von Trier’s dislike of journalists is well recorded, and his reputation is that of a complex man who gives nothing, but provokes extreme reactions in others. Björk was apparently driven to eating her own clothes during the filming of Dancer in the Dark, and Nicole Kidman refused to speak to him after making Dogville. And if his storylines are anything to go by, it doesn’t promise to be a jolly meeting: Breaking the Waves saw an impotent, paralysed protagonist urging his wife to have sex with other men; The Idiots took a fly-on-the-wall look at a group of middle-class hippies pretending to be handicapped; and Manderlay was a dark tale of slavery set in the 1930s American South. His films are intense, often make for uncomfortable viewing and are never made without God-like control by the notoriously obsessive director.
The Boss of It All is the first film von Trier has premiered in his native Denmark. “Of course Cannes stands for good films and all that, but it also stands for a lot of very superficial nonsense, which I can live without,” he admits. Almost apologetically, he explains that the glamour and razzmatazz of the festival doesn’t really suit him, in the same way that he prefers self-service to waiters (it follows that the daily meal at Zentropa consists of a school-style free-for-all buffet).
It’s now over a decade since von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg (Festen) founded Dogme 95, a collective of directors whose 10-rule manifesto forged a new, purer approach to filmmaking. Before Dogme, von Trier’s precision saw him spend sometimes up to two years just on the shot sequence for a film, such as Europa. Doing away with this painstaking approach, the new manifesto proposed simplicity: films were to be shot hand-held, with natural light in real locations, and the director would not be credited.
But von Trier has turned 50 and he’s ready for new challenges. His latest wave of thought is all about letting go of the reigns: a new, easier approach to filmmaking. He decided to make The Boss of It All with a completely hands-off method, which he’s called Automavision. “Basically, I make the frame how I’d like it to be in the film, and then we push a button on the computer and get given random suggested set-ups.” That explains the chopped-off heads, out-of-sync sound and changes of colour throughout the film that may prove challenging for viewers and, frankly, make it look rather amateur. “It’s supposed to make the image imprecise. I hate framing,” he grins, proud of his new trick. “If I can’t control things totally, I will not control them at all,” he explains, revealing that his obsessive, controlling streak still hovers like an old enemy.
Despite his dislike of the press, Lars von Trier is quick to smile and funny. It is he, not the journalists, who tries to lighten the atmosphere with his constantly chipper demeanour: “I can be quite humoristic,” he beams. He can be, and so is his new film. The quirky corporate offices of a Danish IT firm form the backdrop to the comedy. The firm is run by a non-existant boss, created by the owner to hide behind when unpopular decisions need making. The trouble starts when the owner decides to sell up to an eager, albeit cranky
Icelander, who insists on ‘the boss of it all’ being present during the official signing of the papers. When a failed stage actor is hired to play the part of the boss, the knock-on effect is hilarious in a slightly ridiculous, laugh-out-loud way. And although the film’s target market is definitely Danish, it shows that von Trier, possibly
Denmark’s most esoteric export, can hit the right notes with an international audience.
Out of Trier’s very idiosyncratic and peculiar charm emerges a decidedly self-deprecating side. In fact, he is a lot nicer than he lets on. Asked if he gives rising filmmakers a helping hand, he claims not to care: “No. I could have a controlling role, like Bergman had in Sweden, but I’m too egocentric for that — I don’t care. I think it would be very noble if I helped young people, but I don’t have the time for that.”
Up-and-coming female director Pernille Fischer Christensen would disagree. Last year’s winner of the Berlin International Film Festival’s Jury Prize with her successful debut, En Soap, she’s about to begin shooting her next film through Zentropa, and says she could easily “call Lars for advice, and he’d be happy to help”.
Despite its relative importance for the Danish film industry, Zentropa is far from showy. The hospital-green corridors have a certain sterility, which is offset by gaping sofas, chalk-scrawled quotes above doors, and the appearance of a yawning cat. There’s a kind of hushed, ordered sense of creativity. A contrast of sorts, it seems to reflect its boss: “Everything is just how von Trier designed it,” winks one of the many handsome youths that sashay through the airy rooms. We walk past some small garden gnomes convening by the Zentropa pool. If they look familiar, that’s because in The Boss of It All they have a cameo role – a pointlessly funny sequence that shows von Trier’s love of a simple gag. “My favourite films are these old screwball comedies with Katharine Hepburn, so making a pure comedy is something I always wanted to do,” he says.
According to von Trier, his new comedy is just meant to provide “a jolly old time” for all involved, and is “not worth a moment’s reflection”. But with the juggling of roles, subversion of characters and power flips – and it being a von Trier film, of course – one can’t help but search for more meaning. Is The Boss of It All a parable about faith, a film about man’s need for an audience, or a hint at the struggle of directors and actors to find meaning and purpose in their lives? “No,” he chuckles, “I just wanted to be evil to actors.”
Given the extreme ideas and settings behind many of his other films, I wonder where von Trier got the inspiration for an office-bound comedy. “I got the idea from actually really wanting to have a ‘boss of it all’ to help me through my life,” he explains. “When you have somebody who is controlling you, then you are really free, that’s all I can say. That’s where freedom lies.” It’s hard to ascertain if von Trier has rid himself of the controlling boss in his life –“On one or both of my shoulders sits lots of anxiety, and that is a controlling factor” – or if he has found someone to look up to. Either way, something has allowed him a period of lightness and freedom.
Von Trier is supposed to be getting on with Wasington, the final third of the Dogville-Manderlay trilogy, but for now he’s excited about making a “pure horror film”. “Right now I spend my days walking in the woods with my little iPod, listening to horror scores.” Maybe the new von Trier has finally allowed himself a taste of freedom. “There is also a lot of pleasure in film. It is kind of like… you know, it’s delicious,” he says, almost licking his lips. And off he goes, striding like a bear in the wilderness.
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