My first attempt at an analog day went, well, less than swimmingly. But it's not my fault, you see. Some backstory...

On Saturday afternoon I attempted to see Lars von Trier's Dogville. This wasn't my first attempt to see the film. On opening weekend I tried all three theaters in Manhattan where it was playing and the times never worked out right. I was very excited, however, when I saw that it was playing at the newly restored Avon Theatre directly across the street from my building.

The Avon is an old venue that was one of the glorious movie houses of past decades. It sat closed for several years until recently renovated as an art house. An art house. Across the street. Can you imagine how happy this made randomness? However, these being the days of the megaplex, the owners put two smaller theaters in the basement of the building. This being a building from the '20s there was also no space for an elevator.

You guessed it. Dogville was playing downstairs. However the manager overheard my dilemma and, get this, offered to move the film into the main theater for me. In fact he offered to do this whenever there was a film that I wanted to see that was playing downstairs. An incredibly nice gesture and one I couldn't pass up. So, you see, I had to go to the movies last night.

Unable to find any friends willing to sit through a three-hour anti-American film with no sets, I departed into the rainy night. The Avon is truly a jewel of a theater. The whole viewing experience is really a joy. It's far from the sterile environment of the mall megaplex and programmed by people who clearly know what they're doing. Joseph Mankiewicz's widow is introducing "Suddenly Last Summer" next week for cryin' out loud. I'll certainly be a regular now. The theatre itself is worth the price of admission.

Oh. The film. Um. Wow. It's an onion that I really can't even begin to peel without spoilers galore. Visually it's both flat and ornate. The plot untangles like Our Town meets Lord of the Flies. The ensemble cast (Nicole Kidman, Lauren Bacall, Patricia Clarkson, James Caan, Philip Baker Hall, et. al.) is fantastic. John Hurt's superb narration channels Orson Welles. It provokes thought from from the opening frame until the credits roll three hours later. That said, I can't really recommend that my dear readers run out to see it. It's not for everyone. It's slow. It's a bit pretentious. It's a bit absurd. It's violent. It's disturbing. Hell, it's Lars von Trier. Anyone who has seen Dancer in the Dark and Breaking the Waves and actually enjoyed them probably has some serious issues. This film is at times tougher than either of those to watch. Seriously. And I'd sooner gouge by eyes out with a rusty spoon than watch Breaking The Waves again. But it also has some brilliant passages that I'm glad I witnessed. In the end I give it a hesitant recommendation. Just don't blame me if you hate it.