A lot of people -- on the relative scale of those who actually go see daring and inventive films -- still think Lars Von Trier is making movies under his Dogme 95 label. In fact, he has only made one film, 'The Idiots,' that strictly adhered to those rules. Like all of his movies, that was an experiment. Breaking The Waves, with its 35mm photography degraded to look like video, suggested the direction he was heading way back in 1995; three years ago, with Dancer In The Dark, he continued in that mode, using 100 digital video cameras to simultaneously film technicolor dance scenes. Now, with Dogville, he's cemented himself as one of cinema's most groundbreaking auteurs. Love him or hate him, he's shaking things up. He's sort of like George Lucas in that way.

The conceit of Dogville is that, while it is set entirely in a tiny American town in during the depression, it has been shot entirely on a soundstage with virtually no sets. There is a doorframe here, a lamppost there, but most of the physical boundaries are represented by chalk outlines on the concrete floor of the stage. When characters open a door, they mime the action, and their movement is accompanied by the sound of a doorknob turning on the soundtrack. Day and night are represented by white and black backdrops, and lighting effects go far in creating the suggestion of a beautiful sunset or a quiet snowfall.

Inhabiting the quiet, idyllic town of Dogville is a slew of noteworthy actors, including Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Chloe Sevigny, Lauren Baccall, Patricia Clarkson and Ben Gazarra. Certainly, Von Trier's techniques are as dramatically invigorating as they are technically, and I'm sure actors are eager to work with him. Thus, as the star of the film, we have Nicole Kidman, whose career choices are indicative of an intelligence that is as great as her talent.

She plays Grace, a gangster's daughter who seeks refuge from what we assume is death in Dogville. Tom, the son of the town's doctor (Paul Bettany), finds her hiding in a mine shaft and offers her sanctuary. The other residents discover her, and there is some debate over whether she should be allowed to stay; this discussion becomes heated when a policeman comes looking for her. Eventually, she is promised asylum on the grounds that she earn her keep by helping the townsfolk with their daily chores. She gladly complies.

Things are wonderful for a while; everyone loves Grace, and they all agree that she is a boon to their town. There's some trepidation when the policeman returns to post up a wanted poster with her face on it, but it is agreed that the risk is worth taking, provided Grace takes a pay cut, and perhaps works a little bit harder. Grace doesn't argue; she's fallen in love with Tom , and they look forward to getting married and raising a family in Dogville. Before they can consummate their love, however, the orchard keeper (played by Von Trier regular Stellan Skarsgaard) tries to kiss her, and when she shuns his advances, he reminds her that he could turn her into the police at a moment's notice.

Those who are familiar with Von Trier's films may have an idea of where things are headed; he's very fond of stories involving put-upon women, and this is no exception. 'Dancer In The Dark' pushed its heroine to the furthest reaches of depressing melodrama, and here Von Trier goes even further. Melodrama becomes black comedy -- very black comedy that culiminates in an ending that is highly shocking, and also disturbingly satisfying; it's the kind of thing that you wish would happen on a certain level, but that you'd never expect to actually occur. The shocking aspect of it is especially interesting, since what happens is presented in such a theatrical style; any doubt as to the potency of the material is rendered nil by this sequence.

Likewise, any doubt that the story is an allegory about America is rendered nil by the credit sequence, which features a rather ironic musical choice and imagery that some may find a little too blatant. Those same people will take issue with Von Trier's entire critique, and wonder what right a man whose fear of flying has prevented him from ever leaving Europe has in lambasting American culture. The answer, of course, is that he has as much right as anyone. His point of view is either massively pessimistic, or caustically bemused; I believe it's the latter, but either way, it won't please anyone who is happy with what the red, white and blue currently seems to stand for.

After viewing the film, I tried to imagine what it would have been like had Von Trier filmed the same script with conventional techniques, on period sets, with nothing left to the imagination. I think it would have been effective, but also a bit silly; the story is so over the top that the stripped down production actually makes it seem far more real. The conviction of the cast keeps the melodrama in check, too -- particularly in Kidman's case. Grace is the trickiest of characters, and Von Trier's camera rarely turns away from her. Every decision she makes as an actress is magnified by the starkness of her surroundings, and one false step could have been disastrous. That the film works so well is as much her doing as Von Trier's, which leaves me curious about Von Trier's two planned sequels, which Kidman has chosen not to appear in. The role of Grace will now be played by a different actress in each subsequent film, which, when you think about it, is entirely appropriate - that's Von Trier's next cinematic challenge right there.