Justin Chang

As she grieves with her younger sister, Agnes, wonderfully played by Inga Ibsdottir Lilias, Nora must deal with the return of their long-estranged father, Gustav, played by Stellan Skarsgård.

Gustav, a film director of some note, abandoned the family when the girls were still young.

Now, years later, he surprises Nora by presenting her with a new script and asking her to play the lead role.

Nora turns him down, and so Gustav casts a Hollywood star, Rachel Kemp, played by Elle Fanning.

Gustav's movie is being financed by Netflix, which allows Trier to introduce some delectable film industry satire.

Rachel is game and loves Gustav's work, but she's clearly ill at ease with the material, partly because she isn't Norwegian, and partly because the character seems based on Gustav's mother, who died tragically when he was just a boy.

In this scene, Rachel meets with Nora, hoping to gain more insight into not only the role, but also Gustav's family dynamics.

In this scene and many others, Trier directs us to pay attention to his actors' shifting expressions and silences, all the pointed things they leave unsaid.

When Nora has an unexplained attack of stage fright on the opening night of her play, we wonder if it's rooted in a certain ambivalence about acting, a profession that connects her to her father, whether she likes it or not.

Agnes and Gustav get along better, possibly because she starred in one of his films when she was a young girl, a brief bonding experience that her sister never had.

Gustav, it seems, is the kind of father who can only parent through a camera lens.

It's bittersweet that he treats Rachel with a paternal warmth that he seldom shows his own daughters.

In the uniformly strong cast, I liked Fanning the best.

Her character has a bracing and very American directness that cuts through all the wry Nordic reserve.

Trier clearly respects the audience's intelligence, which earns our respect in return.

But for every sensitive, perceptive moment in sentimental value, there's another that feels coy, even complacent.

Trier and his regular co-writer, Esquivote, seem strangely incurious about their character's art.

I wanted to see more of Nora's acting, and to hear more of Gustav's script.

In lieu of this, the movie floats a lot of whispery notions about how art and life converge.

Even when artists turn out to be lousy parents, it suggests, art itself can be a vessel for reconciliation and healing.