I can't feel anything. I can't feel anything!

When my lesson would end early, there would be instances where the only thing I could do was allow the dreaded free time. One afternoon, minutes before the end of the day, a half dozen students were gathered around a laptop, laughing hysterically. Usually, I handled this ominous sign with a simple close it gesture and moved on to something else. But the kids insisted it was okay and that I should take a look. Against my better judgement, I walked toward them, quietly wincing as the laughing only got louder. I parted two of the bigger kids and there, on the screen, were the images and sounds that were making them laugh so much.
They were watching an execution.

When it comes to seeing something truly shocking and disturbing, I'm not sure there's anything left. As my students showed me, the bar has been raised so high, Hell, it might not even exist. Sure the o-face posters might have raised an eyebrow or two, but by the time I finished Lars von Trier's Nymphomaniac Vol. I the only thing shocking was how tame it was. Now, let's not Redbox this one with the in-laws just yet, but after suffering through von Trier's own Antichirst [review], I truly feel I have seen it all. And if something worse (er, more surprising) exists, I think I'll pass, honestly. I mean, there's only so much a guy can handle. If only the same could be said for the ladies...

Nymphomaniac (to this point) tells the story of a young woman named Joe. Joe has been taken in one night after being found basically left for dead in the middle of an alley. She's clearly been through some shit (her face is bloodied and bruised), and her savior, seemingly nice-guy Seligman, is there to help. More than providing a warm bed and some hot tea, this curious gentleman also lends her an eager ear to simply listen to her story. And Joe, it turns out, has got quite a story.