In 1995, Lars Von Trier and other, predominantly Danish, filmmakers released a manifesto called Dogme95, and an accompanying Vow of Chastity (see below). In explaining Dogme95, Von Trier explained the need for "passion not logic...religion not science" in film. Interestingly, today's film auteurs eschew talk of Jesus Christ, and of associative Christ-like passion, in favor of cold, cookie-cutter, and wholly formulaic lust. There is a difference here that Von Trier, as evidenced by his collective works, understands very well. Unfortunately he, like most everyone in his predominantly European audiences, does not understand passion to the extent that he can articulate its truth. The passion of which I write is both the passion of Christ on the cross, and the associative passion of intense love or feeling.

The Dogme95 Manifesto and Vow of Chastity would seem to create the perfect environment for a film's director to very objectively explore the true nature of religion, specifically Christendom. The style focuses less on a prescribed story with actors assuming particular roles, but on players who are affected by particular circumstances played out in a particular environment. This would seem to allow for greater objectivity on the part of the director, as formula and plot are disregarded in favor of realistic character development. "The essence of the Dogme technique is to provide favorable conditions for actors to find or create characters, favorable conditions to capture human movement, 'happening' characters. And while the style is realistic, the camera here doesn't itself constitute the event (hot camera); it is reduced to the mere recording of events whose progression relies on the characters (cold camera)" (Schlosser, brightlightsfilm.com).

Consider, if you will, the Dogme 5 Vow of Chastity:
I swear to the following set of rules drawn up and confirmed by Dogme 95:
· Shooting must be done on location. Props and sets must not be brought in.
· The sound must never be produced apart from the image or vice-versa.
· The camera must be handheld. Any movement or mobility attainable in the hand is permitted.
· The film must be in colour. Special lighting is not acceptable.
· Optical work and filters are forbidden.
· The film must not contain superficial action.
· Temporal and geographical alienation are forbidden.
· Genre movies are not acceptable.
· The film format must be Academy 35mm.
· The director must not be credited.
Furthermore I swear as a director to refrain from personal taste. I am no longer an artist. I swear to refrain from creating a 'work', as I regard the instant as more important than the whole. My supreme goal is to force the truth out of my characters and settings. I swear to do so by all the means available and at the cost of any good taste and any aesthetic considerations (Von Trier, Vinterberg, et al., dogme95.dk).

This last paragraph is especially interesting, as the school sets its supreme goal as forcing "the truth out of...characters and settings." By adhering to this style, it is quite possible to believe that a director could, very unintentionally, create a film that forwards a very basic evangelical message, if the characters and setting are themselves of such an environment or within such a system of beliefs.

Von Trier's struggle with religion is evident in many of his works, both pre- and post-Dogme95. In his first feature length film, The Element of Crime (1984), the story takes place in a post-apocalyptic future that appears almost completely devoid of God or morality. Through this grim Europe of tomorrow, the hero (Fischer) searches out a serial killer of young girls. It is a macabre setting. As his prostitute companion notes "It is always 3:00 in the morning." The absence of light, pervasiveness of violence, cheap sex, and squalid living conditions work together to mark a deliberate absence of hope. Tension permeates. Evil lurks in the shadows.

And yet, despite the environment in which Fischer operates, he claims repeatedly, almost in direct defiance to the world in which he lives "I believe in joy!" It seems a silly utterance, at best; pretentious, at worst. But Von Trier is on to something here.

"I believe in joy!" Okay, but why? Is it defiance? Hope? Mockery? Can this man have any idea what joy is? Similar to the stripper who inevitably notes "I'm just doing this to pay my way through law school," or the techno/halcion/crack-head raver who passionlessly explains "I am very spiritual..." this is a statement that reeks of the absurd, and elicits a response akin to "Um, you've got to be kidding."

Though it is quite evident that Von Trier was deliberate in creating a world devoid of God, he cannot help but to note the startling contrast of possessing joy in this hopeless world, and the desire of humanity to know something greater than themselves.

In Breaking the Waves, Von Trier's critically-acclaimed 1996 Palme d'Or winner at Cannes, we see an exegesis of religion taken to even greater extremes. Bess is a simple woman with a simple faith in God. She loves her husband, and seeks to honor him. When her husband returns home paralyzed after a freak accident at work, he tells her that the only way he will live is if she has sex with other men and tells him about it. She is horrified, at first, but eventually comes to believe that it is her duty--a part of honoring and saving her husband--and is ultimately affirmed in her "faith."

What is most interesting in the film is Bess' ability to justify her husband's request, and God's reaction to them. Through it all, she confuses unconditional love, submission to her spouse, and a very paternal, self-centered understanding of God. Many factors contribute to her beliefs (her own church in no small part). What results is a woman who becomes not the "saintly whore" (as many critics have lamented), but a woman of faith who actually lives out her faith, and, despite being tragically misguided, truly believes she is obeying God and her husband. She is a woman of true passion.

Von Trier does not have the facts straight, and shows just how far Europe is from the Truth, as basic tenets of Christianity are misinterpreted (there is a brief, stern monologue by a church congregant that strangely focuses on the "unconditional love of the Word," whatever than means). Von Trier is using the language, he is just not using it realistically (maybe to Europeans this sounds close enough to what they remember from church, so perhaps it is not important). The point is, Von Trier, despite his lack of knowledge in matters of Christian faith, is at least willing to explore its meaning, and its effect on people in dramatic settings.

Both Zentropa (1992), and Dancer in the Dark (1999) have less of a focus on religion, but in Dancer, in particular, that dissonance is undoubtedly deliberate. How else to explain the tragic series of events that lead to the disturbing conclusion of the film without any reference made to religion whatsoever? Was there no church community willing to intervene on Selma's behalf? No Pharisee-like prudes condemning this single-mother in 1950's Washington state? Did Selma have no religion in her background?

I understand that a great number of people live outside of the Christian culture, but to the extent that God is not even chided, questioned, or cursed?

The same could be said for Zentropa, where a completely clueless American expatriate comes to post-W.W.II Germany to help it rebuild. We never have any sense as to why this man would act so benevolently (if tragically ineffectively). In both cases, it seems more a deliberate fleeing from God, and less a genuine reflection on life and its meaning.

In film, art, literature, and philosophy, we often speak of passion, but coolly turn to evolution when the issue of creation arises. We speak of passion, but refer only to existence when the issue of man's essence comes about. We speak of passion, but glibly turn our backs on the God who consistently shows His face among us, while scratching our heads and wondering, smugly, at what time God must have died.

Passion has been relegated to torrid love scenes in the bedroom, anxious letters of half-commitments, and basic fulfillment of everyday carnal needs. Von Trier is one of a very few who chooses to be honest and direct in his presentation of passion (or lack thereof). He challenges and disturbs us with its reality, and ultimately gives perspective to the true nature of God.