Dear Wendy

Dear Wendy suffers from the same sort of problems that plagued Lars von Trier’s first America-centric production, Dogville (although, at least, there are actual sets this time around). Both films emphasize absurd, thoroughly ridiculous plot developments, as von Trier abandons all sense of reality for the sole purpose of making a point. The filmmaker’s target here is America’s fascination with guns, as the story details a young man’s descent into obsession soon after his first encounter with an antique firearm. Von Trier’s fingerprints are all over Dear Wendy, despite the fact that he didn’t actually direct it (von Trier cohort Thomas Vinterberg takes the reigns). As expected, there’s no sense of reality at work here; we never get the impression that this could ever happen, making it virtually impossible to become invested in any aspect of the story. Exacerbating matters is von Trier’s overly talky screenplay, which inexplicably refuses to develop a single one of these characters beyond their most basic attributes. As a result, it’s hard to shake the feeling that these people exist for the sole purpose of furthering von Trier’s convoluted agenda. It’s a shame, really, since the performances are actually quite effective (star Jamie Bell, in particular, is absolutely convincing) and Vinterberg peppers the film with a few intriguing directorial choices – yet it’s just not enough to disguise the fact that Dear Wendy is thoroughly and irredeemably dull.

* out of ****