Another entry in my search to see a bunch of films about disease outbreaks, "Epidemic" is conceptually intriguing, but the actual execution is dreadful. It's amateurish, and Lars von Trier and Niels Vørsel, scenarists within and without the film, seem to have approached the entire thing as a joke; the end result being that the film itself is one. And, for crying out loud, take that damn red watermark of a title off the screen already! Seriously, the title, "Epidemic," along with an e in a circle, is in the upper left side of the image for most of the picture--and in red in an otherwise black-and-white film. I thought there was something wrong with the DVD or my home-viewing equipment--I'm still not entirely sure, because it makes no sense why the title would remain there for the rest of the whole movie. The lousy lighting and noisy photography, from what mostly seems to be 16mm film, is rather a blessing in this regard, as it sometimes obscures the ever present title in indiscernible darkness. Besides that, I also wanted to smack the smirks off their faces most of the time. Stop laughing, guys; none of this is amusing except, perhaps, for part of the ending. Aside from the Grand Guignol, my favorite part has the screenwriters' boss deploring the two's lack of a full script, for which they were hired, and deploring their film's ending, which he says is "pathetic" at best.
What there is is a skeleton of a script and a plotline painted on a wall. Literally, this is what is shown in the film for the writing of the film-within-the-film, also titled "Epidemic," and it's believable that's all they really did write for this entire film. I believe they mention this lack of planning in the DVD commentary, on which the two otherwise spend most of the time giggling at themselves giggling in the stupid movie. It's obnoxious. Hard to believe one of them, von Trier, went on to be the most famous Scandinavian filmmaker since Ingmar Bergman. Regardless, the premise of the thing was promising, of the film-within-the-film infecting the outer narrative--the movie as monster, as the source of the epidemic--as the writers in the outer one have likewise been infecting the inner film. These sort of meta narratives are catnip to me, so one needs to go out of their way or, rather in this case, not go out of their way at all, to dissuade me of it.
The film even begins with what seems to have been a waste of a good pun by not making clear that their script is lost to some sort of computer "virus," with the other sort of virus deadly to people occupying the film they decide to write after losing their previous effort, which apparently was so bad they can't even remember it so as to re-write the thing. From there, we get a shaggy-dog story--like the first car ride that goes nowhere, as do several of the film's other rambling detours. The texting while driving gag--with a typewriter (this being 1987) isn't bad. At least Udo Kier's scene is an interesting telling of his birthday, too, but otherwise we get pretentious wine tasting, a story of Vørsel's creepy correspondence with teenage girls from Atlantic City, and a woman hypnotized into the film-within-the-film who bawls and screams over how awful "Epidemic" is. I didn't think it was that bad, but it was a chore to finish it.
What there is is a skeleton of a script and a plotline painted on a wall. Literally, this is what is shown in the film for the writing of the film-within-the-film, also titled "Epidemic," and it's believable that's all they really did write for this entire film. I believe they mention this lack of planning in the DVD commentary, on which the two otherwise spend most of the time giggling at themselves giggling in the stupid movie. It's obnoxious. Hard to believe one of them, von Trier, went on to be the most famous Scandinavian filmmaker since Ingmar Bergman. Regardless, the premise of the thing was promising, of the film-within-the-film infecting the outer narrative--the movie as monster, as the source of the epidemic--as the writers in the outer one have likewise been infecting the inner film. These sort of meta narratives are catnip to me, so one needs to go out of their way or, rather in this case, not go out of their way at all, to dissuade me of it.
The film even begins with what seems to have been a waste of a good pun by not making clear that their script is lost to some sort of computer "virus," with the other sort of virus deadly to people occupying the film they decide to write after losing their previous effort, which apparently was so bad they can't even remember it so as to re-write the thing. From there, we get a shaggy-dog story--like the first car ride that goes nowhere, as do several of the film's other rambling detours. The texting while driving gag--with a typewriter (this being 1987) isn't bad. At least Udo Kier's scene is an interesting telling of his birthday, too, but otherwise we get pretentious wine tasting, a story of Vørsel's creepy correspondence with teenage girls from Atlantic City, and a woman hypnotized into the film-within-the-film who bawls and screams over how awful "Epidemic" is. I didn't think it was that bad, but it was a chore to finish it.