At a swank European estate that is mainly a golf course, bored heiress Kirsten Dunst wanders, frets, bathes, and has sex in a sand trap (but not with her dull new groom). Her impish father (John Hurt) steals silver spoons. Kiefer Sutherland has tantrums, Charlotte Rampling is bitter, Charlotte Gainsbourg is a sadly sane sister, and Stellan Skarsgård is a crude, obnoxious billionaire. Oh, and a rogue planet is approaching Earth. We pray for the collision to end this debacle by master-of-art-tedium Lars von Trier. It’s like an Ingmar Bergman parody stuck at a cheap sci-fi convention. Since Von Trier scandalized Cannes by saying he might be a Nazi, is it possible to convene a trial for aesthetic crimes? (2011) — David Elliott
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