Jamie Bell

(On Cable TV, June 2019) The second half of Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac is not a standalone story—it requires having seen the first film and does not stand on its own even as it concludes the story. It does start with a few revelations, though, as the nature and motivations of both the narrator and interlocutor become clearer in the first few minutes. Less digressive and surprisingly more plot-heavy than its predecessor, this Part II takes us through more eventful episodes of the narrator’s life. The sex gets quite a bit more unusual (all the way through to the clinical services of a sadist with a waiting room of women waiting for his harsh whips) while remaining just as graphic as the first film. If frontal erect nudity is your thing, then Nymphomania should satisfy. In keeping with the this-is-not-porn aesthetics, however, none of the nudity is meant to be arousing. Still, we get more of the first part’s strange mixture of the comic and the dramatic, except significantly less comic and far more dramatic as this second part eventually build a plot to go along with the philosophical musings. It ends on a cheap and depressing note, although one notes that the worst of it happens after the traditional “fade to black.”  Still, Charlotte Gainbourg and Stellan Skarsgård do equally well—Gainbourg has a bit more to do here than in the first part. Willem Defoe shows up in a small role, although Jamie Bell gets a more substantial part as the professionally sadistic K. Does Nymphomaniac amount to much? Well, I suppose that everyone will have their say. While I did see the “censored” four-hour version, I feel absolutely no desire whatsoever to see the full five-hour-plus original Director’s Cut: I can’t see what it would add to the story or the point of the film. In fact, as I write this after making it through the finishing line of Part II, I feel no desire whatsoever to re-watch ever again—I may have to follow up this viewing with a dumb comedy. And yet (and this is a becoming a familiar refrain with this director’s work), I didn’t dislike Nymphomaniac as much as I thought it would—there are some laughs, insight and cinematic success in the middle of the self-pretentious lengths and pointless digressions and cheap graphic sequences. While I’m done with Nymphomaniac, I may eventually watch another von Trier film at some point.