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The o. a. c. review, vol. 24: october, 1911 (classic reprint) - NEKOPARA VOL. 0 and 1 Review | Rated C for Cancer - YouTube



© 1994-2014 The Optical Society of Japan (An Affiliate of The Japan Society of Applied Physics)
Produced, Developed, and Maintained by The Optical Society of Japan (An Affiliate of The Japan Society of Applied Physics)
Printed in Japan by Komiyama Printing Co., Ltd.

© 1994-2014 The Optical Society of Japan (An Affiliate of The Japan Society of Applied Physics)
Produced, Developed, and Maintained by The Optical Society of Japan (An Affiliate of The Japan Society of Applied Physics)
Printed in Japan by Komiyama Printing Co., Ltd.

W atching Nymphomaniac raises several thorny questions. How seriously should we take Lars von Trier? Is there a difference between art and porn? Does it need to be this long? Do we really have to use that brackety/vulva ( Nymph( )maniac ) title gag? And, most pressingly, what the hell is up with Shia LaBeouf's accent? With his ear-scraping mockerney shtick, LaBeouf sounds like he's auditioning for a twisted biopic of Dick Van Dyke . Those seeking something genuinely shocking need look no further; if movies were rated for scenes of gratuitous violence against vowels,  Nymphomaniac would never have made it past the censors.

Redacted from a reportedly more explicit and even more unwieldy director's cut, Von Trier's latest arrives in UK cinemas in two volumes, divided into five and three chapters respectively, mirroring the number of front and back thrusts with which our heroine, Joe, abandons her virginity. Through episodic flashback we see Joe (variously played by newcomer Stacy Martin and long-term Von Trier muse Charlotte Gainsbourg) exploring the extent of her voracious and increasingly self-destructive sexual appetite; from youthful masturbation (replete with levitating sacrilegious visions), through adolescent promiscuity, to middle-aged flagellation and beyond.

Offered shelter by the avowedly asexual Seligman (Stellan SkarsgĂ„rd) after being found half-dead in an alleyway, Joe recounts her self-proclaimed wickedness as a series of Scheherazade-like tales of misadventure, leading us through the long, dark night of her soul and on into morning. Seligman is intellectual and ascetic, constantly transposing these fleshy tales into forgivingly abstract digressions (fly fishing, knot-tying, Fibonacci numbers); Joe is earthy and unapologetic, insisting upon lustful damnation, sneeringly rejecting the psychobabble term "sex addict" for the film's proud titular label: "I am a nymphomaniac!"


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