This is how I would introduce a newcomer to foreign classics, from most accessible to least accessible. I'm still a…
In a small, dilapidated village in 1990s Hungary, life has come to a virtual stand-still. The Autumn rains have started. A few of the villagers expect to receive a large cash payment that evening, and then plan to leave. Some want to abscond earlier with more than their fair share of the money. However they hear that the smooth-talking Irimias, whom they thought had died, is returning. They are apprehensive that he will take all their money in one of his grandiose schemes to keep the community going.
A REVIEW FOR MY #1 FAVORITE FEATURE FILM OF MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE, AND MAYBE FOREVER WITH A 99.5% PROBABILITY.
Don't read it as a review, but as a magazine article. This is the longest thing I have ever written about one single film, but it is also the only review that made me cry out of sentiment while constructing it.
Before starting to construct a modest, fully developed essay about Béla Tarr's Sátántangó, let's make a nostalgic resume about some of the most wonderful experiences cinema has offered throughout its history. German Expressionism represented the pinnacle of Berlin's technical vision and resulted in the most visually captivating and thought-provoking classic masterpiece up to a hair-rising degree. After the Second World…
Cinema undiluted, yet clouded; quintessential, yet corrupted; lucid, yet vague; high-minded, yet smothered in dirty shapes, postured to perfection. Designed to transport, to form a familiar, albeit foreign environment for its viewers through patient, sincere and expressive manipulation of audiovisual details, resulting in a pure-form, sensory-cinema experience. Indeed, Satantango is meticulously crafted to shift its viewers from their (position in a chair, or) place in reality, into the gut of a nonentity-like vehicle, slowly drifting, but at the same time quickly catapulting through the process of a bleak, syncopated, rhythmic flit with the dark heart of a total eclipse. In essence, caliginosity and crepuscule as an unfathomable, esoteric and profoundly inexplicable display of medium-mastery. And, in the end, one of the human race's single greatest accomplishments, both inside and outside the field of artistic creation.
An absolute masterpiece from Bèla Tarr, who really does prove he's one of the greatest directors of all time. Seven long hours pass beautifully, each of the 157 shots in the film precisely framed and captured to perfection. If I were to highlight only one sequence in this absolute fucking classic of all cinema, it would be the final 30 minutes, which are among the creepiest I've ever seen in a movie and leave a lasting impression that provokes nightmares and chills. Those thirty minutes alone make it one of the best films I have ever seen.
I can't explain it, I don't blame anyone for not believing me, in fact I didn't believe the reviews myself, but when I say that Satantango -- notorious for being over seven hours in length -- felt no more than two hours, I'm dead serious. I could understand how some might be bored by it, but every frame, each shot features far too much depth for me to remain uninvested -- I was mesmerized for this film's entire runtime. It's almost like a time machine, and I mean that in the best way possible. So soon after finishing it I am silenced from any analytical praise, but at the moment I am pretty confident in saying that Satantango is man's greatest achievement since the moon landing. This review is a mess, but fuuuuuuuck, Satantango is a masterpiece.
If you aren't convinced by all the 5-star reviews, let me tell you why you should watch this 7-hour long Hungarian classic.
1: It's a one of a kind film that you may only see once upon a lifetime.
2: The seven hours will go by faster than you think. This is a slow paced movie, but that doesn't mean it's boring.
3: You will enter a whole new world. I felt like I was around the characters rather than watching them.
4: It's gorgeous! Every single shot is so beautiful.
5: You'll have something to brag about. How cool isn't it to have experienced a seven hour long film?
6: The long takes are superb throughout. They serve a…
Throughout my experience with cinema as an art form I have come across a handful a films that affect me in a variety of ways. A film like 2001: A Space Odyssey was able to show me the transcendent ideas films have to offer. Paris, Texas was able to show me the beauty in human connection and a truth behind what a relationship is. Dancer in the Dark is a film that gave me an insight into the horrors of intimate death. Come and See, Last Year at Marianbad, It's Such a Beautiful Day, Paths of Glory and Magnolia are all films that has taught me the language of cinema and the power behind the dialogue between an artist and…
Un nuevo intento fallido de intentar verla, otra vez será amigo mío.
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
One of the greatest challenges a film buff carries with him is the full understanding of filmmaking, and the incalculable techniques in which various films are made. And the greatest of these challenges may be the one classification that has a more vague description than most, if not all genres. That would be the art film, or the arthouse film. Art films are built upon being unique and unconventional. Yet, like any group of films in a genre, art films share certain qualities. Ever since I first saw Andrey Tarkovsky movies such as Stalker and Solaris, I have strove to understand the strangeness of the art film. I knew I would get a better idea the more I watched art…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
Instead of a review, below are my raw thoughts as to an interpretation of Satantango. This film is so unique and complete that it becomes something like a cosmic theater piece through the lens of a camera. This is also almost certainly the only film that terrifies me in its implications, I almost don't want to know what it means for fear of a minotaur lying in the middle of the maze. But I say I almost don't want to know, so with that in mind I don't just invite you, I beg you to please offer me what your interpretation of the film is.
Who or what does Irimiás represent? I think he is obviously intended to be a…
One of the most fascinating movie-watching experiences of my life. I must confess that I split it up over multiple nights. I both regret this decision and don't. On one hand, Tarr himself says the correct way to watch this is uninterrupted. I can definitely see a benefit to that. On the other hand, splitting it up over multiple nights gave it the effect that many great television shows also have; I found myself constantly thinking throughout the day about what I had watched the night before and anticipating what I would see that evening. It allowed the characters, the town, the mood of the whole thing to seemingly take on a life of its own inside my psyche. I…
In no time at all, I found myself breathing in sync with the meditative rhythm and petrifying hum that lies beneath every image. Its tempo is real-time, and the hum is emitted from the man behind the camera, Bela Tarr, and that is never in doubt. He recognizes that the single most powerful tool available to a filmmaker is time, and more specifically, real-time. As a result, Satantango can be perceived as the most persuasive argument for real-time as the magnifying glass for emotion, character, symbolism, and the common denominator for the real and the abstract. In the film, we see the magnifying glass of real-time depict the enormity of details, become a form of descriptive prose as well as…
In certain respects, I almost feel as if Satantango is an instance where the trees are nearly more interesting than the forest. That isn’t to say that the larger scope of the film is at all insignificant (in fact, on this second viewing, I became even more enthralled with the politics and spirituality than I was on my first viewing), but that so many of its greatest pleasures reside in its most mundane (or rather, seemingly mundane) elements. I’m on record as saying that the best moment in The Turin Horse is the dinner scene towards the beginning of the film, where a simple gesture transformed into a deeply symbolic act by Tarr’s camera. Satantango is filled with such moments,…
I didn't actually watch this I just needed to post something about the cubs
Love the music!
Ne sono uscito distrutto. Primo, perché è il film più complicato (ma l'ho dovuto, per forza di cose, vederlo a pezzi in più giorni - dura 7 e passa ore), secondo perché è quello più struggente e catastrofico. L'ho amato dall'inizio alla fine, fotogramma per fotogramma (anche se la scena con il gatto mi ha fatto male :( ).
Capolavoro? Non ha importanza, si prende tutto il tempo che vuole per dire delle cose, sta allo spettatore prendersene carico, con tutta la fatica e la frustrazione di questo mondo.
Quando comecei a assistir mais filmes eu precisava de um caminho pra seguir e caí de cabeça em um monte…
All the films from all the editions, including those subsequently removed, presently totalling 1187. An easy way of seeing how…