The wait is over! On Friday, Lars von Trier’s critically divisive, Cannes-booed Antichrist — about a husband and wife who abscond to a cabin in the woods to mourn the death of their son and lose their genitals — finally arrives in theaters. Surely you’re curious about this thing, but what if your weak stomach and reports of the film’s graphic sexual mutilation have you discouraged? Fear not! Vulture’s seen the movie and we’re here to help with an illustrated, slightly spoiler-y guide to briefly escaping the theater during Antichrist’s two most gruesome scenes, should you need to.
The squeamish will be happy to know that Antichrist’s first hour is 100 percent mutilation-free. Sit back and relax! At the 65-minute point, though, you’ll see Dafoe enter a shed and start flipping through some Polaroids of his dead son. This is your cue to get up. When you see this shot …
Courtesy of IFC
… you have 90 seconds to get out of the theater and into the lobby (don’t look back!). Once you’re there, note the time; you’ll want to be sitting down again in three minutes. Use the restroom or buy some popcorn — whatever it takes to keep you from thinking about genitals being smashed by a log and groped to a climax. Listen near the door until you hear Willem Dafoe shrieking. This just means he’s regained consciousness and seen the remnants of his testicles, and it’s totally safe to go back in. But don’t get comfortable! You’ll be leaving again in 10 minutes.
At the film’s 83-minute mark, Charlotte Gainsbourg lies down on the floor next to Dafoe and places a pair of scissors beside her. When you see this …
Courtesy of IFC
… run like a bastard! You’ll have approximately a minute and a half to escape the close-up shot of Gainsbourg shearing off her clitoris. This time, though, just wait by the door; once the gasps, screams, and vomiting sounds have subsided, it should be safe to retake your seat (watch out for fainting victims in the aisles). Enjoy the rest the movie!
Earlier: Antichrist Director Lars von Trier Reviews His Reviews
So What Happens to Willem Dafoe’s Genitals in Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist, Anyway?
A Squeamish Person’s Guide to Seeing Antichrist in the Theater
