The first time I met Lars Von Trier he smelled odd. Wearing an earth-colored ensemble of Fjällräven trekking gear and a leather jacket, overdressed for hot creative studio work, sweating. Maybe the smell came from the funk emitted from his baby boy’s diapers that had chilled out on his arm. Lars grinned like a naughty prankster: “Morten, I got some samples for … Continue reading Nymphomaniac and beyond: a subjective bluffers guide to the works of Lars Von Trier.