Parsing Antichrist

(With apologies to, y'know, poets):

Misogyny?

 

Automisogny. We're not talking about

 

Cars not liking women, but a mother driven

 

To make a witch of herself, one that can’t feel or screw with feeling;

 

Monstered by therapy and her man; monstering back

 

In Tarkovsky’s Mirror image of a woodland refuge. No joke.

 

“Chaos reigns,” declares Now-Notorious Fox, grandiosely

 

Perusing his own entrails – like much else it scores

           

An admiring laugh, for this film’s serious (and only half not)

 

In its midnight fairytale logic

 

Advancing in actual careful strides

 

Through phases of spurious “healing”, aftershock, and… yikes.

 

From the snowglobe opening – I sensed

 

From the kid’s very expression (malicious, as he plummets

 

And destroys them) that Lars was onto something

 

Solaris-ish and yet pure Lars. No joke. I can’t dismiss this, for it is

 

Obscene calligraphy in mist (Anthony Dod Mantle,

 

You can totally keep that Oscar now) 

and above all MENTAL ON PURPOSE. A—