Lars von Trier is well known for spurring controversy, but he is also fascinatingly brilliant at starting conversation. Many of his controversies often lead to sensational uproar-his Cannes statements about the holocaust come to mind-but ultimately add little to the collective dialogue about our times. However, his films often manage to strike those chords in surprising, resonant ways. "Nymphomaniac Vol. 1" does just that.

Von Trier's new film revolves around self-diagnosed nymphomaniac Joe as she narrates her life story to a man who has just rescued her from what looks like a beating. This man, Seligman, takes her to his house and helps her regain her strength. All the while, she reveals her sexual addiction.

The story is told in the form a conversation with narrated flashbacks of Joe's youth. The conversation remains the main narrative framework for the duration; it's not simply a gimmick to get the story in motion. In fact, if anything, the conversation itself is the most essential part of the narrative.

Joe, whose name suggests her androgyny (and universality), thinks that she is a sinner for her sexual deviance despite not being religious; Seligman (the name's Yiddish origins are explicitly noted) questions why she should feel sinful for her behavior. Seligman is not only a surrogate for the audience, but he also stands in for von Trier himself. Through Seligman, the director seems to be questioning the taboo that Joe insists on using to justify her own self-hatred. But von Trier goes beyond Seligman merely questioning the idea of sinfulness. Seligman frequently interrupts the story to compare her experiences and decisions with nature and art itself. At numerous points early on he compares Joe's sexual behavior with fishing. Later on, there is a reference to Joe's sexual relationships and Bach's musical structures. Through these techniques, the director seems to question why sexual liberation and freedom remains a taboo.

Seligman's behavior as a redeemer seems to extend beyond just the conversation. At the start of the film, we see Joe seemingly "dead" in an abandoned alleyway. Seligman shows up and with a slight nudge, he brings her to life. The camera during this sequence is fascinating to observe. It seems to hover and float slowly about, capturing the details of shingles, a wall, and raindrops, among other things. There are numerous details in the environment that the auteur points out and yet there is a sense of death in the ambience that is only emphasized by the reveal of Joe lying in the alleyway.

As Seligman moves toward her, the camera hovers around; this is not something usually showcased in any other von Trier film and it adds a level of mysticism to the proceedings. The director proceeds to showcase a number of jarring jump-cuts during the early stages of the conversation scene, seemingly to keep the audience invested in the conversation, not just passively watching the move without a level of interaction.

The depth of the film is remarkable (and this is only Vol. 1), but as with most von Trier films, it is by no means easy viewing. In fact, some of it repulsive and unwatchable.

At one point, young Joe realizes that her only means of seducing an obstinate man is through oral sex. Von Trier does not shy away from the imagery in this moment and actually frames the act in a tight close-up. But even more repulsive is a subsequent shot showing semen drip out of Joe's mouth-and that's not even the most revolting moment in the entire film. While Joe explains her persistent sexual activities and her multiple male visitors per day, von Trier shows a gallery of male genitals; these are also showcased in still close-ups. While these moments stand out as disgusting and objectionable, the other sex scenes, while surely fearless in their expression, are not as vulgar.

Despite the graphic sex in the film, von Trier imbues Joe's story with powerful moments of utter humanity. At one point, Joe manages to get a man to leave his family (despite not actually wanting that result). The wife shows up at her apartment with her three sons and undergoes a brilliantly devised psychological unraveling. She seems to try to comprehend and accept the idea early on and actually acts pleasant toward her husband and Joe. But as the scene develops, her tone turns from biting sarcasm to volatile anger; by the end of the scene she is lashing out at her husband physically and verbally. In the hands of Uma Thurman, this scene is easily the most powerful and memorable in the entire film.

Another striking moment revolves around the death of Joe's father. This particular scene is also brutal in its depiction of physical deterioration, but also highlights Joe's increasing fascination with sex as an outlet to overcome her pain and trauma.

The performances in "Nymphomaniac Vol. 1" are solid throughout. Thurman steals the show with her one scene, but Charlotte Gainsbourg and Stellan Skarsgard are undeniably engaging in their discussions. Skarsgard is particularly warm and kind throughout the film; he represents one of the few characters that seemingly lacks the brutality of other people in Joe's life.

Making her acting debut as Young Joe is Stacy Martin; the actress' inexperience is actually a perfect match for the role. She seems mechanical throughout, emphasizing Joe's callousness toward other people; however, she maintains an endearing innocence. This dichotomy supports von Trier's attempts to show the predatory nature of Young Joe as simply a common aspect of human nature.

The most frustrating performance in the film is easily Shia LaBeouf's turn as Joe's "ideal" man Jerome. Jerome is the man to take away Joe's virginity as a girl and she later falls in love with him despite her own admissions that he possesses feminine qualities; the film's cliffhanger ending only adds to this notion of Jerome's inability to truly fulfill her ideal. LaBeouf maintains his trademark boyish ways throughout the film, but his British accent is inconsistent and consequently distracting.

Von Trier is always a genius when it comes to employing music and this remains the case here. He employs a Shostakovich waltz for its biting sarcasm during the montage of male genitals; he utilizes the first movement of Franck's Violin Sonata (with a cello instead) and its repetitive melody to emphasize the peaceful monotony of Joe's walks through a park. He also utilizes Rammstein's "Fuhre Mich" at the start and close of the film, giving the movie a violent bookend. Bach's "Ich Ruf Zu Dir, Herr Jesu Christ" is employed to compare the three ingredients of Bach's music with the three most important sexual experiences of Young Joe's life.

Some will will undoubtedly find von Trier's film unwatchable. And even those brave enough to take on the film will likely find some moments objectionable and excessive. However, von Trier ultimately frames the first part of his examination of sexual addiction with unique commentary and fascinating insight.