Dogville: A Diffusion of Responsibility

By Paul Marchbanks

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Lars von Trier’s Dogville (2004) provides useful ideological ballast for those (like myself) who tend to weigh community so heavily, to sing its praises so loudly. Deeply convinced that Christ calls us into intimate relationship with other members of His universal body, I habitually seek out signs of real connection and shared understanding around me.

I also, like William Wordsworth and other early 19th-century poets, gravitate towards rural spaces as somehow richer and truer than the mechanized urban environments in which the educated often, necessarily find themselves. I prefer praying outside during a walk to searching for God’s presence within the confines of a brick building, and have more difficulty discerning God’s will under fluorescent lights than beneath a radiant moon.

So, since I prefer the outdoors for spiritual contemplation and—though an introvert—recognize the profound value of tightly interwoven communities, combining these privileged environments and relational dynamics should theoretically provide me with my ideal space. The vision of a tightly knit community insulated from the wicked metropolis couldn’t help but be utopic, could it?

Triers challenges such optimistic expectations in his tale about a town whose posture towards a needy, female newcomer changes dramatically under the alternating influences of curiosity, pity, rumor, and self-interest. The film implies that evil often works more effectively through inaction than action, that group consensus does not a just decision make, and that sometimes mob mentalities can operate as easily on dusty, foot-worn paths as they do on cold concrete.

Posted by Paul Marchbanks at May 4, 2005 11:00 PM