Die Tatarenwüste

This film features one of the most extraordinary locations I've ever seen on film,apparently shot in Southeast Iran, these giant, snow-capped mountains loom in the distance while closer, a desert fortress rises above what appears to be the remains of abandoned, ancient ruins. In this setting, an outpost on the edge of the desert of the Tartars, overseeing rock, sand, and a perpetual mist, the extraordinary external visual world stands for the internalized world that evolves over time, soldiers at the outpost suffer from mysterious ailments that scientists can not name or cure, a metaphor for fear of the unknown, which eats at the inner core of these soldiers who live in a world abandoned by time. The men train for the inevitable attack that lurks just beyond their eyesight or understanding, there is a sort of desert fever that kicks in, so it is not really known if there is an army out there or if it's all in their mind. The stunning,visual world has been created, once again, from the brilliant mind of Valerio Zurlini.

The film reminded me of two others, Tarkovsky's `Solaris,' where men are sent to outer space only to discover that the planet surface mysteriously interacts with each man's internal memories, also a recent Hungarian film by Peter Gothar called `The Outpost,' an absurdist, Kafkaesque journey that as one engineer gets promoted and travels farther and farther away into the outer reaches of the country, bribing nearly everyone she meets just to get there, leaving the comforts of anything remotely resembling normal, and instead discovers a peculiar outpost at the end of the world where the mind plays terrible tricks.

A clichê advice, but in this case this good movie could ruin the superb book, if watched before.

Yet, it deserves to be watched after reading the book, it's not a square transposition, it has it's own soul.

A film over two hours long set in a remote desert fort, with an all male cast and no action, may seem a daunting prospect, however THE DESERT OF THE TARTARS is a strikingly memorable experience. The characters are full of suppressed emotion and inner turmoil, the strange surrealistic fort a metaphor of their spiritual imprisonment, and the huge expanse of surrounding desert a tangent reminder, day by day, and year by year, of their fears and lost aspirations.

Time passes imperceptibly, and our dashing young lieutenant, played by Jacques Perrin and surrounded by a stellar male cast, ages and weakens as the desert and the constraints of life in the fort strips away his physical strength and inner resolve. He yearns to free himself of the debilitating fort's influence, but finds himself transfixed by the mystical challenges of the landscape, and the perceived danger from the unseen enemy beyond.

The dust of the desert, the artificiality of the military life within the walls of the fort, the rituals and uniforms, the unspoken fears, the friendships and animosities between brother officers, the authority that seldom explains it's decisions, the half-recalled memories of a former life, and the ever present foreboding created by the shadows of the desert, shadows that sometimes give rise to visions of a lurking threat that may, or may not, be hidden in those shadows.

Exemplary colour widescreen photography is aided immeasurably by the haunting themes written by Ennio Moricone, and at the disquieting and ominous conclusion of the film, we are indeed completely mesmerized by an impressionistic, visionary spectacle that will haunt us for a long time after the final credits roll.

if you know the novel, the film could be a correct adaptation. if you do not know the book, the film could be boring, too slow, too long, only an experiment. in fact, the truth is at the middle. the film is more than an adaptation but exposure of the point of view of director about the isolation of man in contemporary society. the purpose is served by the great cast, the desolated landscapes, the expectation as way to survive, the construction of the dramatic end. it is translation of a deep feeling and the book of Buzatti seems be, in many scenes, the perfect tool. so, it is not fair to define it using the expectations. because something does it special. maybe, the reflection in yourself. or the long expectations. or the sensation to see a Kafka works.

This extraordinary film sprang from a fertile time in world cinema. In the USA the medium was experiencing heady creativity but in Italy such exceptional ability was expected. To see it now is to witness movie making at its most devoted and personal. Zurlini casts it brilliantly. The acting by an acclaimed cast is both restrained and gut wrenching. Adapted from a classic novel, which I have not read, it leaves its literary provenance behind while still managing to address what are normally literary obsessions: existentialism, nihilism and romantic futility. Visually the film is stunning and makes a mockery of the ghastly special effects which in a film like Gladiator make the world seem like a landscape of precious celluloid grey. It is filmed in the middle east in a now earthquake-torn ancient town. If one didn't know such a place existed one would think that special effects had accomplished impossible beauty. But no, its all real. And all spectacularly realised.