You are in a big prom hall. You hear beautiful fairy tale songs from your childhood. Everyone seems in ecstasy and full of joy. Your grandparents are around you and you remember being with them while you were small. And the almost Christmaslike innocent kitsch music fills the room with childlike wonder.
Now a group of men walk in. They carry axes and swords. They start killing and ripping apart all your loved ones.
If this was a normal avantgarde movie, that in itself would be provocative enough. The music would now switch to some weird horror music.
But not in hell. No.
In hell, the innocent childlike music keeps playing, lulling you into feelings of comfort and joy. And at the same time you see the horror before your eyes … and since you are so nicely conditioned to be hypnotized by beautiful music and let it dictate your judgment and mood ….
You are confused as to whether even protest against what is happening. Because … when there is no soundtrack to tell you that what is happening is terrible, how do you even know?
And thus you are left in a state of confusion. Unsure how to feel, what to think, what to do. You are tempted to call this state madness. But you are too confused to be sure even about that. Is it madness? Or … is it just? In what kind of hell have you landed where the director does not clearly state his intention, the purpose of the story? Does not clearly state how to think or feel about what is happening, how to judge it, who the good guys and bad guys are? Without allowing room for misinterpretation? Where things are just left to unfold, without explanation, without reason, without a moral, without a lesson? Oh, how you now crave that delusional certainty of understanding … and yet, in face of what you are seeing, you are forced to contemplate the unthinkable: That you cannot flee to understanding … because the understanding in itself was an illusion.
And in your mind, a strange association starts to manifest: Joy is equal with suffering.