“Because I don’t want this train to go to Munich, Bremen, Frankfurt or fucking Auschwitz, I want it to stay right here!”

In 1993, I attended a modest but nevertheless successful Foreign Film Festival at the Varsity Theatre while living in Ashland, Oregon. At the time, I was nothing short of a beatnik: I had no job, no money, and my pretentiously pathetic life revolved around music and film (like it still does… damn, I thought I got out of that). One of the titles on the 3-Picture roster for the fest included something called Zentropa. Glancing at an article attached to the window displaying the poster, I noticed that the original title of the film was Europa, but the US distributor, Miramax, had re-christened the movie fearing that its stupid American audiences would confuse it with Europa, Europa (apparently, Miramax has little to no faith in the American public’s ability to recognize a singular use of a word from a double use). The poster, manufactured by Miramax, kind of made it look like a cheap erotic thriller.

While I do not recall precisely which words may have passed through my mind at that particular point in time (although, I can assure you, they were pretentious), I said something to the effect of “Aw, what the hell! I paid for this festival, so I’m watching all of these movies… even Zentropa!”

What I saw was nothing short of a masterpiece: hypnotic narration from Max Von Sydow (one reason the movie intrigued me), gritty black and white photography resembling a cross between film noir and German Expressionist Cinema that was fused with traces of color and often mixed with rear-projection… resulting in a previously untouched style of filmmaking that even the graphic novels of the time (or “comic books”, as I think they were still called then) hadn’t quite perfected the formula for (all this before the advent of CGI, mind you… making it all the more impressive). Within just a few moments, I was instantly the film’s biggest fan in the audience. And when Eddie Constantine appeared onscreen (another reason the movie intrigued me: I was a huge fan of Alphaville at the time), I almost stood up and shouted “Lemmy Caution!” (in hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t -- people still don’t get that reference).

Europa spins a magnetically mesmerizing yarn consisting of a young American-German lad named Leopold Tressler (Jean-Marc Barr), who journeys to Frankfurt amid the Germany’s disarmament from Allied Forces in an effort to help get the nation back on its feet. Working with his Uncle Kessler (Ernst-Hugo Järegård, whose defining moment for me will always be in Von Trier’s excellent series “The Kingdom” as Dr. Helmer, wherein he got to repeatedly shout “Danish scum!” from rooftops), Leopold is employed by the Zentropa Train Company, which seems to be the only one true business still operating in the country.

At first, Leopold’s life looks as if it may be easy: his work as a sleeping car conductor, while tedious, is nevertheless terribly complicated as more rules and fees seems to be developed on a daily basis. Things become further complicated one night when a VIP passenger turns out to be Katharina Hartmann (Barbara Sukowa), the daughter of Zentropa owner Max Hartmann (Jorgen Reenberg), who desires the comfort of his presence as the train passes through a tunnel. Leopold and Katharina almost seem to hit it off then and there, and soon, Leopold is invited to what’s left of the Hartmann household for dinner where we also meet Lawrence (the great Udo Kier) as Katharina’s gay brother and American Colonel Harris (Eddie Constantine, in one of his final film roles).

Meanwhile, Colonel Harris has his hands full with Werewolves (German rebels fighting the efforts of the Americans) and trying to keep his good friend Max Hartmann out of trouble with his fellow Yanks by falsifying a report stating that Hartmann was unsympathetic to the Nazis.

I imagine you might be a little confused right about now. I wouldn’t blame you, either. It could be attributable to the fact that Europa implores a bit of the ol’ style of substance method. I may even have something to do with the realization that it just doesn’t seem to play out that well in words as it does onscreen. Personally, I feel it’s my fault: I can’t even describe an analogy without using… well, a bad analogy.

But just take my word for it, kids: Europa is a masterpiece of art, plain and simple. If Criterion ever releases this title on Blu-ray someday, you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be camped outside of my local Best Buy overnight just so I can be disappointed in the morning when I discover that they won’t be carrying it.

Presentation
Previously only available in the United States via a shitty Full Frame VHS, Europa is at long last available in its widescreen glory thanks to the persistent efforts of the fine folks at Criterion. The movie is presented in an anamorphic 2.35:1 ratio transfer with some lovingly solid black throughout. The color pieces are a horse of a different--no, I’m not going to say that--the color footage is another story entirely and is very grainy… although, it’s supposed to look that way, so nyah, nyah!

Europa boasts a rather luscious 3-Channel Stereo Soundtrack. The audio of the movie itself alternates between English and German dialogue, so a Subtitle track is set to default in an effort to thwart any confusion non-German speaking people may have. An English (SDH) Subtitle option is also available for those of you who don’t understand anything.

Extras
Not only has The Criterion Collection earned themselves a little gold star from me for releasing it on DVD alone, but they get another gold star for the fine assortment of Supplemental Features on both discs.

Disc One commences with an excellent Audio Commentary with director Lars von Trier and producer Peter Aalbæk Jensen, recorded in the commentators’ native Danish tongue but Subtitled in English (note that you cannot choose this Subtitle track with the regular English Subtitle track that plays during the movie).

The Making Of Europa (39:00), a dated (but still informative) Documentary produced by Same Films in 1991 that covers the production as well as location and studio filming, is the next Bonus item on Disc One, which is followed by the Original Theatrical Trailer (2:42).

Disc Two is devoted entirely to Special Features, beginning with Trier’s Element (43:54), another 1991 Documentary (from Danmarks Radio), gives us more Interview material with von Trier in addition to footage from both on-set and its premiere at Cannes.

Anecdotes From Europa (20:35) is a little ditty from 2005 featuring various remembrances from actor Jean-Marc Barr, producer Peter Aalbæk Jensen, assistant director Tómas Gislason, co-writer Niels Vørsel, and prop master Peter Grant as well as film historian Peter Schepelern. From problems with shooting to bribing troublesome

From Dreyer To Von Trier (13:33) is an Interview with cinematographer Henning Bendtsen, discussing his work.

The Emotional Music Script (11:57) Interviews Europa’s composer, Joachim Holbek, and how he came up with the film’s moody score.

Lars Von Trier--Anecdotes (16:52) -- continuing the spirit of the Anecdotes From Europa featurette, with various folks discussing working with von Trier. Interviewees include costume designer Manon Rasmussen, film schoolteacher Mogens Rukov, editor/director Tómas Gislason, producer Peter Aalbæk Jensen, art director Peter Grant, actor Michael Simpson, production manager Per Arman, and actor Ole Ernst.

A Conversation With Lars Von Trier (43:47) -- By the time this Special Feature rolls around, the word “megalomaniac” beings to enter the mind frame (did Lars arrange for these Extras personally, or what?). This 2005 piece was made by Danish journalist Bo Green Jensen and is one of the few pieces on Disc Two that actually features Lars rather than discusses him.

The final Bonus Feature on Disc Two is Europa: The Faecal Location (10:14), which features some previously unseen footage from production taken directly from VHS video. There’s a reason it was previously unseen, too.

All of the Special Features are either presented in non-anamorphic Widescreen or Full Frame with English Subtitles.

Rounding up the whole Extras Department is a 12page booklet with an oft-amusing essay by Howard Hampton, in which the author somehow manages to compare Europa’s director and his style to everyone from Orson Welles to Ed Wood.

The Bottom Line
Whether you’re a budding artist, a pretentious art-house cinema snob, or just an average Joe that’s stoned out of his mind, Europa will become one of your perennial favorites (it certainly did with me).