It's the sumptuous monochrome, luminous light and luxurious shade from Anthony Dod Mantle. It's the ultra-, uber-, almost frame-by-frame slow motion. It's the strains of Handel's finest aria of so many - the exquisite Lascia ch'io Pianga. It's the painfully slow descent from the balcony for little Nic, and the descent from the sky for those delicate snowflakes. It's the soft bed of snow that he falls onto, but the hard landing that will serve as catalyst for the brutality that's to come. And it's the signs of that brutality, evident even in such gentle slow motion: the ecstasy of orgasm, the violence of penetration, the jostle and spin of clothes in a washing machine. The opening sequence of Lars von Trier's Antichrist isn't just the best scene in a film these past ten years. It's one of the best scenes in any film these past 110 years.
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