Verdammnis

In a town that is quite possibly the wettest place on Earth, the permanently raincoat-clad "Karrer" (Miklós Székely B) goes through the motions with a life that is little more animated than his dreich surroundings. What sustains him through the grand ennui of his existence is his love for the married singer in the gloomy "Titanik" bar (Vali Kerekes) for whom he declares, repeatedly, his undying love and for whose husband "Willarsky" (Gyula Pauer) he has little but contempt. Luckily for him, though, the guy is in almost permanent debt so is away frequently enough for the two to indulge their relationship, infatuation, addiction now and again. That's about the height of it. Can this ever decreasing circle ever change? What's quite intriguing about this cinematic festival of monochrome melancholia is that the story is almost irrelevant to what Béla Tarr seems to be offering us here. The photography is dank and dreary, the constant tracking shots, panning shots, lingering close ups of the rain dripping from branches or the faces of the customers in the bar - none of those actually do anything to support the plot, but they add a delicious richness to the whole allure of this film. There's a song - almost as depressing as the weather, completed by a gentle saxophonist that I felt rather summed up the whole ambiance of this glacially paced exercise in bleakness. I'm no film critic and am not in a position to write some extensive exposition on what motivated the director or how original his techniques at story telling are, I can only judge what was put before me for two hours and though, yes, at times it is downright dull, at other times it was a bit like wandering through an art gallery where the light (or shade) brought something out of the blandness of the scenario. It won't be for everyone as there really isn't that much actually happening, the dialogue is pretty sparse and the repetitive nature of the plot development might be risky for an audience required to focus for a couple of hours where the sight and sound of constant rain might just start to feel like a drip on your head. I'm not sure I'd ever watch it again - but as an exercise in epitomising the depressiveness of the routine, the hopeless and the pedestrianism of daily life, it's worth a watch. You probably ought to watch it in a cinema, though - at home on a television it will lose much of it's photographic distinction and you might just be tempted to hit fast-forward now and again.

The film that launched director Béla Tarr into international attention, Kárhozat is the Hungarian's first major investigation of the nature of humanity.

Trailing the exploits of alcoholic depressive Karrer, Kárhozat presents us with a view of a desolate and decrepit Hungarian town. He spends his days wandering from bar to bar, obsessing over a married lounge singer and part-time lover whom he longs to elope with. Passing off a job to collect a package to the husband, he buys himself three days alone with the object of his desires.

As is now his trademark, Tarr brings us the minimal number of shots: slow, winding, thoughtful and beautiful. His approach is simultaneously simple and complicated, showing us at the same time nothing and everything. The aesthetic of the film is astounding, beauty created wonderfully in the chaos and destruction of the landscape. The brooding intensity of the omnipresent coal trains dominates the work, an indicator of lost industry and decline. Miklós Székely leads the cast with the perfect stoic facade, his granite face holding back the weight of an emotional past and the crippling need for escape. The sinister and critical bartender gives us Karrer's true opinion of himself, one he would rather not face up to, whilst the sagacious old woman provides the film's sensibility and reason. The plot itself is not so important as the camera's journey and the character's silent ruminations, leading unavoidably to a wonderful climax and one which does exactly what it should: causes us to question our own lives and the oddity of humankind.

With beautiful, paced, unconventional direction, Tarr gives us an intimate portrait of ourselves and our world. Achieving an incredible amount with a minimalistic approach, the film is entrancing, mysterious, and inspiring. Telling us as much with his landscapes as with his characters, Tarr's Kárhozat is a testament to the brilliance of this creative juggernaut.

In the oeuvre of Bela Tarr ugliness is elevated to art. In this respect "Damnation" is a good example because there is a lot of ugliness in it.

Ugli landscapes. In the opening scene we see, for minutes and minutes, an industrial conveyor belt. We shall see it again and again.

Unsympathetic people. The film is about three men in love with the same woman. The woman tries to use the men to enhance her career. The men fight each other in sneaky ways.

Bad weather. In "Damnation" it rains all the time. Even in interior scenes there is water leaking from the ceiling. In this respect Tarr resembles Andrei Tarkovski, who also has the "inside shower" as a trademark.

Bela Tarr is renowned for his long takes with a slow moving, nearly static camera. When combined with monotonous music these scenes sometimes become nearly hypnotic. In "Damnation" there are two of these scenes. The first is the performance of the female singer in the nightclub "Titanik", the second one is the local dance evening.

Apart from the three men and the woman, there is also an old lady in the movie that warns the lead character multiple times. Her function in the story was not entirely clear to me.

Very clear however is the symbolism with streetdogs, who populate the streets for most of the film. They evidently feel very much at home in this ugly environment. At the end of the film the lead character even has a (temporary) transformation to (the level of) a streetdog.

Yes, this is not for every movie goer. But it rewards those who love the art of film making. Very stylized, yes, but directed by someone who has chosen film as his medium for expresses and articulating a world view that is bleak, atheistic and unforgiving. You may not "like" this film: but as an antidote to all that is superficial, crass and commercial it is terrific. To some, it is intellectual masturbation: to those who see film as an art form, a movie to be admired, debated and savored. It will be seen by fewer than those who enter any "Blockbuster" video store on any given day- but, God help me, I would rather see this film than any other at that store.

I watch Bela Tarr's films over again with endless fascination. The length is not a problem: No longer that many pieces of music. If you can concentrate through a Wagner opera and I hope you can, then a Tarr film is not very long. All the films are very much products of team work but lead by an autocratic man who knows exactly what he wants, hence the seam free quality of the experience, It is that, rather than the length which requires the concentration. I have not found it mentioned often enough but there is much humour in his films, Karrer does a reprise of Gene Kelly, which is then itself parodied near the end of the film. Damnation is maybe still my favourite, I suppose for the mesmerising way sound is used to structure a complex web of association, but then all of the available late films has so much to offer