In the interest of full disclosure, I'll admit that I don't really get Danish director Lars von Trier. His movies baffle me, and make me feel stupid. This is perplexing. I don't feel stupid very often, and it's an unpleasant feeling.

I have little patience for people who tell me that they're confused by perfectly understandable films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain, believing that these moviegoers have allowed themselves to become so wed to the three-act, spell-it-all-out, linear storyline that they can't bend their brains a little to grasp something more audacious. (Also, I think these people are stupid.)

So you can understand why von Trier ticks me off so much. I'm never sure if I don't like them because a.) they're not that good; b.) I just don't care for them personally; or c.) I'm too dumb to understand what he's getting at.

The Criterion Collection recently released a typically excellent DVD package of Europa (1991, also released as Zentropa), von Trier's third film in his Europe Trilogy, which began with Element of Crime (1984) and Epidemic (1991). A surreal mood piece that trucks heavily in dream logic, the picture begins with a voiceover by Max von Sydow, soothingly encouraging the viewer to enter a hypnotic state ("At the count of ten you will be in Europa...") playing off von Trier's own stated premise that movies are, in fact, a form of voluntary hypnosis.

Set in post-WWII Frankfurt, the film follows an American named Leo Kessler (Jean-Marc Barr) who takes a job with his uncle (Ernst-Hugo Jaregard) as a conductor of a sleeper car on Zentropa railway. He meets and falls in love with Katherina (Barbara Sukowa), whose Nazi-symapthizer family owns the railroad, and who may be a member of a terrorist group called the Werewolves.

The story is told in a deliberately confusing, self-consciously surreal style, with gorgeous black-and-white images that owe an enormous debt to Eisenstein, Hitchcock, Lang and Lynch. Ultimately, it all feels like a very stylish exercise, but one without any real heart. The symbolism is all heavy-handed and painfully obvious -- Katherina first meets Leo when she clings to him and says that she's afraid of going through tunnels, and Leo, an American, is on a dream-like, confusing journey aboard a train that shipped Jews to death camps during the war -- and the characters are cartoonishly one-dimensional.

Of course, I could be completely wrong. That's the thing about Lars von Trier -- I may just be too dimwitted to appreciate him. At least I'm willing to admit that.

Criterion's DVD release offers an excellent transfer in the film's original 2.35:1 aspect ratio, with equally good audio (German and English, with optional English subtitles for the German dialogue, plus English subtitles for the deaf and hearing impaired.)

Disc One offers the film, with optional commentary by von Trier and producer Peter Aalbaek Jensen (Danish, with English subtitles), with the pair discussing all the details involved in bringing the picture to the screen. There's also a 1991 documentary titled The Making of Europa, which offers a nice overview of the film and how it fits into von Trier's trilogy, and the original theatrical trailer.

Disc Two features another 1991 documentary, Trier's Element (44 minutes), with interview segments and additional behind-the-scenes footage; the 2005 featurette Anecdotes from Europa (20 min.) gathers a group of critical talking heads to opine on the film; Lars von Trier - Anecdotes, another 2005 documentary chock-full of interviews with assorted crew members, such as cinematographer Henning Bendtsen, composer Joachim Holbekto, and more; a 43-minute 2005 interview with von Trier about his "Europa" trilogy; and Europa: The Faecal Location, a short film by assistant director Gislason about -- seriously -- the problem with the toilets on the film's location.

Dawn Taylor would rather go to the DMV than sit through Breaking the Waves again.

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