Film Review: The House That Jack Built (2018)

Art is hard. It's hard for an artist to create, because mere creation is never really good enough--through criticism and self-evaluation, art has to be destroyed and recreated endlessly until perfection happens. The best art is hard for others to take, because the art itself might take them to dark places they don't want to go, and because the message may be hard to truly discern.

The House That Jack Built is an art film about a compulsive psychopathic serial killer. By definition, it's as unlikable as a film can get.

Jack (Matt Dillon) is an architect and engineer who has access to a cold storage freezer and a van. As he narrates his depraved life to somebody named Verge (Bruno Ganz), Jack picks several random incidents in his life to illustrate his sick and depraved convulsions. He uses his charms to gain his victims' trust, before turning on them and using their bodies as some form of art (photographs, statues, something).

Why watch any movie about a killer? It's easy (maybe too easy) to follow guys like Dexter or Patrick Bateman because they're relatable in some way. What gives me pause sometimes is how their acts are shown in so much gory detail--in this kind of horror cinema, it becomes exploitative to a point where one has to ask why am I even watching this? I had to ask this about THTJB, because Jack has no redeemable qualities that I can discern. He spends all of the film lying, manipulating, and mistreating other human beings. It's a frustrating watch, not only because of all the gory murders, but because Jack exists in a world so naive and oblivious that it becomes unbelievable. There's no way he could have done all the things he did without getting caught.

But wait a minute, this is art, right? And I gotta say, the last scenes actually managed to turn my opinion around, because it actually became art--the exact same kind of eye-popping visceral beauty that made me fall in love with 2009's Antichrist. When the "reality" of the film is pulled back, we're shown that this is really a depiction of Dante's Inferno, and Jack is a wicked soul forced to endure the many rings of Hell. In this light, I can accept that the film doesn't really glorify the killings--the message to me is that one can't skirt around Hell, and if you do commit evil you will pay in the end.

But wait, there's more! Just like with 2013's Nymphomaniac, the film lets the main character philosophize, with occasional inter-cutting of stock footage and artworks to illustrate various points. THTJB covers so much ground, it's hard to really tell (much less connect) with the character's narrative. What is clear is that most of it is an expression of nihilism, to the point of showing us a world where evil thrives and nothing can save Jack's victims. In such a cruel world--one where Jack repeatedly fails to build his house by the lake--he finds purpose in art, and he spends most of the film defending his stance.

Is it really Jack's art being judged here, or is it the film's director? The film seems to conflate Jack with Lars Von Trier himself, who seems perpetually cursed with depression. The writing gives it all away, but not with the best results. It tries to be funny and meta but comes off as obvious and frustrating. Other times, it's daft. There's maybe a sliver that actually works. When the film digresses into conversations about sexism, art, Nazi architecture, and other odd things, it's hard to tell if this is really Jack's voice or Lars secretly lashing out and/or defending himself. It makes some dialogue stilted and unnatural. In spite of all this, I spent most of the runtime uttering at the screen "really?" or "wat?"

I have to hand it to the film, it's got some punchy images. Most of the film is done with the faux-Dogme 95 style, meaning lots of free-hand camerawork that might make you a little dizzy. But there are moments where the composition is striking, and it's especially lucid in the last act with all the Hell scenes. Editing is very sharp and punchy, although some shots and music cues are repeated to an annoying degree. Biggest surprise may be the acting--Matt Dillon really nails it as Jack, it is a chilling performance full of nuance and skill. Most others pull their weight well (although I found Uma Thurman oddly annoying in her brief role).

Like any form of art, this film is challenging. I can't even tell if I like it or not. I hated the writing, the character, his despicable acts, and the impossible contrivances of the stories. But I can see a theme of some kind, and I appreciate the occasional burst of cinematic expression.

Yay, art! Nice film Lars, but seriously get some help already!

3/5