(Hungary 1994 452m) DVD1/2
Aka. Satan’s Tango
The sound of bells
p György Feher, Ruth Waldburger, Joachim von Wietinghoff d/w Béla Tarr novel László Krasznahorkai ph Gábor Medvigy ed Agnes Hranitsky m Mihály Vig art/cos Janus Breckl, Béla Tarr, Gyula Pauer
Mihály Vig (Irimiás), Putya Horvath (Petrina), Lászlo Lugossy (Schmidt), Éva Almássy Albert (Mrs Schmidt), János Derzsi (Kranér), Irén Sjajki (Mrs Kranér), Alfréd Járai (Halics), Miklós Székely B. ( Futaki), Erszébet Gaál (Mrs Halics), Erika Bók (Estika),
If ever a film demanded to be called indescribable, this is it. If ever the term ‘not to everyone’s taste’ meant anything, it is here. If ever a film carried a warning ‘not for cat lovers’, it is also here (well, along with Bill Douglas’ trilogy and Bad Boy Bubby). Yet in addition to all these statements, another one might just as easily add is ‘all true cineastes, stop right here.’ Béla Tarr’s film is, not to put too fine a point on it, one of the greatest masterpieces of nineties cinema, a film of incredible scope within its truly unique structure. A film that challenges you to believe that the cinema is capable of more than had hitherto been thought possible. It’s a film that has been called “a masterpiece from this decade” and “one of the biggest experiences you can have in a cinema”, and that’s only from reviewers on the IMDB, where it still attains an average rating of over 9.0.
In the years following the fall of communism, an old communal collective farm and surrounding village is on its last legs. The villagers wait patiently for their wages for the previous year, with the intention of then moving on. Yet they are wary of the return of one of the villagers, a con-artist who will likely tempt them to give him their money in the promise of trying to keep the farm going.
Right from the opening sequence, a sense of doom hangs over proceedings. The opening narration warns of the autumn rains, and the ensuing mud baths, and this we see for ourselves, as cows (mating, no less), chickens and divers other creatures are left roaming the yards unattended. The almost funereal quality of the opening pan recalls the incomprehensibly reminiscent traffic jam in Godard’s Weekend. The parallel may at first seem shaky, but both detailed flotsam and jetsam being passed by life itself, in the form of the camera. It has been said that certain films live sub-consciously in the memory long after the plot details fade away, and this is certainly true of Tarr’s film, it’s visual bleakness – the entire film is shot in cheap monochrome, like a home movie shot on a portable CCTV camera – ingrains itself on the memory. There are entire sequences that contrive to seem endless and about very little, but which prove unforgettable, as when two men walk in front of a camera into a gale-like wind blowing litter towards them, or in various shots of villagers walking up endless muddy lanes and tracks. Yet for a film told so much through its visuals – and certainly dialogue is often kept to a minimum – it’s the sounds that stay with you as much as the visuals, be it a bluebottle buzzing round a room, hobbling footsteps through pouring rain, or the piercing silence of loneliness. Not to mention the sound of the bells that toll, it seems, for the village itself. These are noises that convey most effectively the desolation of the body and spirit. A desolation further achieved by Tarr’s roving camera, conveying the infinite spaces of the locale, while at the same time metaphorically using the said bleakness to show the villagers’ collective sense of imprisonment. At times, it comes across like a dream in slow motion, perhaps owing something to the rhapsodic vistas and movement of fellow countryman Miklós Jancsó’s sixties works, but wholly original nonetheless.
As for the title, it’s best left ambiguous, referring not only to the dancers in the café-bar sequence, but perhaps also to the back and forth nature of the narrative – in the opening half alone several stories taking place at the same time are weaved together. Gareth Evans has called it “the great film of entropy” and, as open to interpretation as that statement may be, no-one could ever accuse Tarr of conformity. Taxing, but terrific.
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A staggering masterpiece equals higher placement than this.
LOL.
Fair enough Allan.
Whaaaaaaaaaat!!!! And I placed it at number 1. 🙂 It’s a film that is for me, pure cinema, – evocative, only optionally cerebral and trancedental. For me, onte fo the greatest of all time, along with Kane, 2001, Rashomon et al.
“the entire film is shot in cheap monochrome, like a home movie shot on a portable CCTV camera” – COME ON, Allan. This movie is “far” from being shot in cheap, grainy film-stock. I thinks Satantango is one of the most beautiful films ever made.
But, well, that’s just my opinion.
Don’t mind the awful typos…
Phew…this sits on my computer, but spending 7+ hours on a movie is tough to find time for. So, is this one that is best watched all in one sitting, or does it work watching it over several nights?
Troy, this seems to me to just be a movie that needs to be seen by any film fan. Sure one sitting it probably optimal, but if it isn’t possible then do it over several nights or weeks. It is just something that needs to be watched. Period.
I agree with others with this seemingly low placement… I placed it at 12, but I did admit that any film in my personal top 13 could be 1 if I watched it more recent.
Another great review. Makes me want to watch this masterpiece ASAP. And to JAFM I agree on this film’s visual beauty (the screencap shows that) but I didn’t read Allan’s quote as an insult; I read it as it’s a beautiful film despite its cheap origins… think something like ‘Inland Empire’; filmed cheaply using a (relatively) cheap digital camera but find monumental results.
To me this film is even more inventive with story structure then the more praised ‘Pulp Fiction’.
Troy, you need to see this film, and if I’m honest, it’s a film that’s best watched in one sitting. Then again, I am a masochist when it comes to viewing and prefer to watch anything in one sitting.
With Sátántangó, however, it’s one long movie, broke down yes, but not really episodic, so rhythm can be lost if split for anything more than say an intermission for meals between discs.
Sam, thanks for trotting out your ‘staggering masterpiece; catchphrase, which always makes le laugh, giving images of Conrad Veidt’s Cesar the Somnambulist sleepwalking while pissed.
JAFB, I feel your pain, and honestly, another day this could place higher. At this stage, they’re all masterworks, so it’s interchangeable really. Favouritism does play a part this high up.
Just finished it tonight, over the course of maybe four seperate viewings (time was just too tight right now). I’ll agree, after watching it, that it does lose its rhythm a bit when broken up.
Now to just digest the thing. It’s ambitious as anything I’ve ever watched and technically brilliant. As great as Tarr’s use of the camera is, and God only knows how you develop the patience to shoot a film that way (my ADD mind could never fathom), I’m with Allan when he says that it’s his use of sound that really impresses. In my notes, I started just jotting down all the distinct sounds that come into play, as it became a marvel to me how such small things, seemingly nondescript things can evoke a distinct atmosphere.
The problem I have now is how to rate such a film. This is surely a film that needs to be discussed, rewatched, studied, and pondered. However, quantitative evaluation of it seems insufficient. I guess there really isn’t a way to NOT put it at the highest echelons of whatever rating system one uses, so I’m going to lean that way with it for now. (Plus, wouldn’t I lose any “street cred” I may have gained by not saying that ;))
Greatest tracking shot of cows grazing in a field in the history of cinema.
And the other nominees?
I too concur that this film deserves to be in the running for the very top spot in its decade.