Satanstango

I was mesmerized by this 7-hour long 1994 Hungarian film called "Satantango." Filmed entirely in black and white, director Bela Tarr has created some of the most stunning images I've seen on film. The opening shot, about 10 minutes long, is an enormous tracking shot following a herd of cows wandering through an otherwise desolate village. Then there's this 10-minute take of a window at dawn. Everything but the window is dark, then ever so slowly morning light brings the objects in the room into view, a character finally enters, peers out the window, then goes back to bed. There's a 5-minute tracking shot of two characters hurrying down the street in a horrendous wind while a veritable tornado of garbage and litter whirls about them. There's a stark, almost surreal woods strewn with fog. No take is less than a minute long, and there are about a dozen around 10 minutes. The average edited shot in a Hollywood film is less than 10 seconds. It's almost mind-boggling the logistical and practical difficulties of sustaining such long takes. In a great many, Tarr utilizes extensive camera movement. The camera tracks and weaves and gives you a sense of space found in few other films -- maybe those of a Welles, Ophuls, or Kubrick. The dance in the middle of the film from which the film takes its title is shown in one 10-minute take. It cuts away to a little girl watching the dance for a few minutes, then cuts back to the dance for another 10-minute take. And nothing about this sequence is boring. The eight actors in the scene carry on heartily. Another inspired shot has the camera revolving around seven sleeping characters while a narrator describes the dreams of each.

The story concerns a group of poor villagers who gets conned by a smart talker who was once one of their own into giving up all their money to go live on a non-existent communal farm. The first 4-1/2 hours is made up of 5 "stories" from the perspective of different characters over the course of the same day. Some of the events in each story overlap, so you see them occur again and again, but each time from a different perspective since they occur in the context of a different character's life. It is not unlike what Tarantino does with a segment in "Jackie Brown," but whereas Tarantino's technique is tiresome because it is plot-related, Tarr's is a grand achievement in tone.

The first story shows us Futaki, who while having an affair with Mrs. Schmid, finds out that her husband is planning to make off with the money that eight villagers have come into through one of conman Irimias's schemes. Then they both discover Irimias, who was thought to be dead, has returned to their village. The second story follows Irimias and his trying to evade trouble with the law. The third shows us a doctor who observes the other villagers and who writes down everything he experiences in journals that he keeps. The fourth has a young girl taking out her miseries in life on a cat and contemplates suicide. The fifth shows all the pertinent villagers gather together at a bar and drinking and dancing until they are all in a drunken stupor.

Satantango is one of the grand achievements in cinema of this decade.

The dance with the devil based on novelist László Krasznahorkai's novel about the aftermath of the fall of communism for sure has to rank very high up when it gets to unconventional motion pictures. Filmed in beautiful black and white by Hungarian director Béla Tarr in the early Nineties, the movie consists of twelve parts and lasts seven and a half hours with single tracking shots up to ten minutes, often with very little or only repetitive action on screen. And it rains and rains and rains. Make no mistake: Despite its length Satantango is not an epic narration, but rather achieves long lasting impressions by pointing the camera on banalities inspired by the bleakness of the scenery, perfectly enhanced by the director's choices what to show and how to show it in order to induce a trance-like reaction in the viewer. And while doing so Satantango mesmerizes, shocks, devastates, enthralls.

The time line is a bit unclear and episodes overlap or could have happened the same way at another time. Yet there is a main thread of story about a con-man in the messiah's disguise, a seemingly eternally lasting dance in the very middle, and an essential episode about a little girl representing the core of the film - a symbol of the disillusionment and victim of betrayal, desperately searching for ways to exert some power herself in her forlorn reality. Not that much is happening in Satantango, and some things remain vague, but reality is also transcended at key points adding to the allegorical impact. The aesthetics of the experience and its ultimate conclusion will remain with those who are open for it.

I saw SATANTANGO about ten years ago. At that time, I found it impressive, but quite an ordeal to sit through. But then, years later, I realized I kept thinking back to the images and rhythms of this film. It grows. I also saw other very long movies with very long takes, like TAIGA by Ulrike Ottinger (8 hours) and FROST by Tarr's student Fred Kelemen (4 hours); they didn't work. SATANTANGO stayed with me, like two other films by Tarr, DAMNATION and WERCKMEISTER HARMONIES. Today I consider it as one of the greatest movie experiences I ever had. I do not know how Tarr pulls this off; his most effective takes often seem simple and straightforward. It must be magic. By the way, Gus Van Sant's ELEPHANT uses similar techniques at times (long shots of people walking), and Van Sant acknowledged Tarr's influence.

Satantango (1994) ****

Satantango, Bela Tarr's 1994 7.5 hour masterpiece is incredible first and foremost in that despite its length and multiple shots of literally nothing taking place it is never, I repeat, never boring. This is one of the most incredible films I have ever seen. Complied of only 150 shots, many of which last for over 10 minutes, Tarr and his cinematographer manage to create a hypnotic and beautiful depiction of a desolated communal farm in post-communism Hungary. The scenery is at once withered and ugly, yet compellingly beautiful. The land is muddy and the buildings are in shambles. There are two scenes where main characters walk with the camera following as multitudes of trash blow along with them in the wind, creating a somehow hypnotic effect.

The film opens with literally a 10 minute shot following a herd of cows wandering through a seemingly rundown farm town. The camera makes what has to be one of the most incredible pans in cinematic history panning to the left for most of the ten minute scene. Who else but Bela Tarr would try such a thing; and who else but Bela Tarr could make it work so well.

The film follows the people of the farm in essentially three sections. The first section begins by showing Futaki having an affair with Schmidt's wife. Schmidt we find out is planning to run away with the money the town has made over the past year but comes home and is confronted by Futaki who has suck out only to come right back and knock on the door. They hear that the smooth talking Irimias and his sidekick Patrina, who have been believed dead by the town, are on their way back to town. The other residents, who all plan to take their money and leave town, seem to be under the thumb of Irimias and after hearing of his return meet at the local pub and discuss what to do and wait nervously for Irimias's arrival.

The scenes are broken down into 12 steps, such as in a Tango. Nearly all of which are connected in that we see what has already happened from another perspective. The first section as noted involves Schmidt and Futaki; the second and one of the most hypnotic in the film is of an overweight and frail doctor who sits in front of his window documenting the actions of the townspeople. He details how Futaki is slipping out of Schmidt's house, and then goes back in, a scene which we've already seen except this time it's from the window of the doctor's house. The doctor hulks around and then realizes he must leave his home to get more alcohol. Scenes go on like this weaving in out and out the story line from different points of view. The first third of the film deals with the realization of Irimias' return, and exposes the corruption of the citizen's capitalism by their greed. The second third is the post powerful. It documents a little girl who is conned by her brother and ignored by her mother. The only thing she has power over is her cat, and in order to feel that superiority she tortures and poisons the cat. I will not reveal how, but this section turns to tragedy which will be exploited by the smooth talking Irimias.

The final third deals with the corruption of Irimias's communist plan for the farm. He convinces them to give him the power and all the money that has been saved up only to con them. This section is brooding with satire, as is the first in some ways, and has shades of Orwell's animal farm – the dumb and obedient townspeople conned into subjugation by the charming Irimias.

Essentially, Satantango is a 2 hour movie shown without its cuts bringing it to 7.5 hours. The film never uses its drawn out scenes to further the narrative, but neither does it use them for simply aesthetic purposes either. The film's length and incredibly long shots seem to be rubbing the atmosphere right in our nose. Many shots have the camera move, raising and weaving and circling defining space like no other film. Some of the extended scenes are incredibly funny in bizarre ways, such as an extended dance seen (from which the film gets its title) where the villagers get drunk waiting for Irimias and Patrina, dancing to accordion music while the little girl peers in through the window; and another scene that circles the room while two officers dictate and type out Irimias's statement, cleverly changing vulgar statements (which I found hilarious) and in the middle of it all, sitting down and having a snack in real time! These scenes sound perhaps boring, but somehow Tarr makes them seem riveting and when they end it's almost sad to see it. Another incredible extended sequence sees the camera facing down at the sleeping villagers circling them ever so slowing as a narrator describes their dreams.

Satantango is a film like no other. Its scope is breathtaking and its style is beautifully crafted. Tarr's films are almost like ballets: the camera moves always gracefully and in ways that we would only imagine that a cut was necessary, never faltering and always creating incredibly beautiful dances, and they set a mood perhaps better than anyone else. Satantango is Tarr's masterwork, epic in every sense of the word. If you get the chance to see this one, do yourself a favor and experience all 7 and a half hours of its majestic and drab atmosphere. Satantango is film for the sake of film and art for the sake of art.

4/4

This is one of the greatest movies I've seen, as the film is not boring and tiring during more than seven hours. The beautiful long shots about this deserted country-side and it's people are so rich, that they crucially contribute to the understanding of the story. When we see somebody walking for ten minutes in the forest we have the possibility to know all his/her life. In order to understand the plot it's not enough to listen to dialogues and pay attention to the classical narrative elements. You have to contemplate and study every image, the gestures, the cloth, the environment. The long shots allow also us also to include in the film's perception our own experiences of the world. We understand the events based on our own experiences: we have the time to remember what is it like walking in mud, touching a cat, etc. If you let yourself taught by director Béla Tarr, your perception will change in 1 or 2 hours, and you will be able to feel and understand images much more deeper than before. Don't miss it!