Francis X. Clooney, S.J. finds grace in Melancholia's portrayal of depression and end times:
Justine is in tune with a reality others do not see, from which they hide themselves; she was depressed because reality is depressing; she felt, before knowing why, that the ordinary life of wealth and pleasure and business, partying and marrying, had no point at all, since everything was about to change, absolutely. By ordinary standards, Justine is simply clinically depressed. In a larger perspective, in light of what actually happens, she is right. She has seen what no one else can see.
Brett McCracken compares the film to Malick's Tree Of Life:
There’s a sense in which every human instinctively knows the Earth will not last forever and that fiery destruction is in some way deserved. There’s a reason why, if we’re honest with ourselves, disasters and mass calamity confront us as things simultaneously horrific and transcendent, visceral reminders of our finitude and God’s sovereignty. It’s what Malick was getting at in Life: Every human—like every dinosaur millions of years ago—is here for a brief time and then gone, terminated by a rogue asteroid, a wartime bullet, a freak accident or a wayward planet called Melancholia.
Jonathan McCalmont examines Justine's depression through a religious lens:
Under Christianity, pain and suffering had been tangible proof of God’s promise that the meek would inherit the Earth and that worldly happiness is only fleeting when compared to the infinite joy of union with the Godhead. Under the grand ideologies of the Enlightenment’s children, pain and suffering were things to be extinguished either by revolution (surgery) or by reform (chemotherapy). Now our culture no longer sees misery as divine, it sees it as something to be eradicated and avoided at all costs.
Lindsay Zoladz has an interesting take on the director Lars Von Trier's own depression, and how it influenced his portrait of Justine in the film.