Armonías de Werckmeister

A wonderfully balletic and poetic film, built on long, long tracking and steadycam shots (thirty-eight for 2hrs 25mins). A study in pervasive yet neutral melancholia; the main character, who accompanies us through the whole film, is a simple, dreamy yet quietly optimistic postman, if one were to interpret his wide-eyed stare and unquestioning attitudes in such a way. One is drawn in from the very beginning, via the evocative music and camerawork. It is rare these days to see European films that take so much time and care as they progress. Watching it I was reminded of Aleksei German's Khrustalyov, My Car! - 1998, Roy Andersson's Songs from the Second Floor - 2000, Fellini and of course Tarkovski. I don't think that all cinema should be 'easy' or well wrapped up. Indeed, I often feel that I am simply not in the mood for seeing a particular film, or experiencing a particular atmopshere. After all it is fairly easy to tell from even short descriptions or reviews the kind of thing that is in store. So I was somewhat surprised to see one previous reviewer here describe this film as "dreary drek". Well, perhaps, but if they wanted to go and see a comedy or redemptive drama, why didn't they go see one already?! I may have had the odd moment of wishing certain shots were a tad shorter, but all in all I was mesmerised, from beginning to end.

Imagine it. You spend four years on a project, with big funding hassles and changes in crew; and then, finally, after your film is very enthusiastically received at Cannes, the lab goes and destroys the only English-subtitled print before it's shown at the Edinburgh festival. Obviously Bela Tarr doesn't have his sorrows to seek.

Some might accuse the film--which centres on a rural town riven by the arrival of a "circus" consisting only of a dead white whale in a corrugated iron trailer and a character called "The Prince" whose nihilistic and inflammatory remarks incite riots--of veering very close to a parody of miserabilist cinema. Okay, so it's in black and white; there's a lot of mud, rubbish, smoke and wetness; there's not much dialogue between not very attractive people; every take lasts between five and ten minutes; and there are many scenes of people trudging through cold and bleak landscapes. (You'll never see so much trudging in a film.) Lars Rudolph, as the hero Janos, looks like a cross between a young Klaus Kinski and Frasier's brother, Niles, and spends most of the film wild-eyed and harried.

However, Tarr's distinctive style--exceptionally fluid and intricate tracking shots rendered in beautifully sharp monochrome--perfectly matches the grim story, which, as the director pointed out, explores the "boundaries between civilisation and barbarism". Any seemingly parodic moments are far outweighed by extremely powerful ones, notably the opening scene in a pub where the hero explains what an eclipse is using the sozzled bar clientele; the hero's deeply unsettling encounter with the "Prince"; and the mob's attack on a hospital.

Although the narrative falls apart a bit in its closing scenes, the film's images stay with the viewer in ways unmatched much recent cinema. This film demands your time and concentration, but rewards them; it has a unique and mesmerising rhythm. And the music, by Mihaly Vig, is simply beautiful.

What is perhaps one of the best beginnings to a film helps lay the foundation for the rest of this film. Janos is brought to the center of the room being told that, "it is time." From here Janos begins a remedial science lesion on the cosmos. He begins by using a drunken bar patron as the sun. Then another as the earth. Finally, another as the moon. He explains the rotation of the three celestial bodies in what appears to be a drunken daze. However, Janos stop the rotation of the bar patrons and begins his monologue. Janos' language changes; the music resonates throughout the scene. Janos gives the patrons an allegorical tale of the eclipse; stating the sense of unrest that the animals and people experience as this sudden change shadows the earth. However, the chaos is only momentary. Order is soon restored. Shortly after his speech, Janos and the drunken patrons begin to dance at which point the barkeep kicks Janos out of the bar. In a rather ominous tone, Janos exclaims to the barkeep that "it is not over." I summarize the beginning of this spectacular film because the magnificent Bela Tarr has laid out everything we need to know in these short 11 minutes to understand his work. We are told that the story is going to be an allegory; an allegory of great chaos brought upon a population of the ignorant (The eclipse frightening the animals natural order of life). We are told that most everything in the film will be symbolic (The earth, sun, and moon acting as natural life with disorder). We are given the weather conditions and the dereliction of the town which further sets the tone of the film. Finally, we are given the pace of the film. Patience is needed. A film captured in a mere 39 shots in what feels archaic black and white (Again acting as a symbol for the Post WWII desolate town and its intoxicated population). The film follows our protagonist, Janos, as he meanders through his life playing an oxymoronic archetype of the wise fool. His small Hungarian town is awakened from their inexorable lassitude by the arrival of a circus attraction. This attraction is a giant stuffed whale and accompanying the whale is The Prince; a mysterious and shamanistic disturbance to the town's feeling of unrest and neglect. The Prince then capitalizes on the ignorance of the town, leading them to form a mob and storm the hospital. Janos is forced to play the unifier and bring the town out of the eclipse. Tarr has created literature in motion with this masterpiece. Harmonies is more of an experience than anything else. I watched this film maybe 10 years ago and am just now writing this review. The film resonates and challenges our ability to interpret. It is almost like we as viewers would wish to have a SparkNotes page for this film, so we could understand the symbolic nature of the whale, the prince, and so much more. Yet, we are given no interpretations; just as I will leave you with no further explanations. Just a recommendation to find this film and let patience truly be the greatest virtue of them all.

made entirely of longshots of 2-4 minutes in duration. Layers of symbolism in poetic images. It's not a movie, it's not entertainment. It's film, and you have to engage and ask questions about what you are seeing. Why did only 2 people saw the whale? What was the significance of that? How did the riots get started? Who were the insiders and who were the outsiders? How could you tell? Why the hospital? Why do humans always need a causation? Why was the Prince's speech in a different language? What did the Prince represent? What did the Whale? A viewer may not want to be taxed with these questions but given the way the world is, these questions are worth thinking about. I've only seen one other "contemplative film" which is Angelopoulos' Ulyssey's Gaze, which I deeply cherish. This didn't get to me as deeply as it's images weren't as evocative to me. This is probably due to my being able access the cultural symbols of Angelopoulos more easily (though that film isn't "easy" either,it's just that I have more background in modern Greek poetry, etc.). Recommend this film as a unique chance to think of an alternative use of celloid, don't be intimidated.

This is as bleak a film as I have since for a long time. Seen mainly through the eyes of a 'holy fool', played by German Lars Rudolph, it may be allegorical, it may be a horror story or it might even be a distinctively Hungarian very black comedy.

Bela Tarr's direction is stunning. The lighting is brilliant throughout, but none more so than when the circus comes to town in the middle of the night. The care and patience with which scenes are built greatly enhances the intensity of the most violent moments. The scene, for example, when a mob march down a long street before attacking a hospital matches the greatest moments of black-&-white silent cinema.

The film retains a disturbing ambiguity throughout, right up to its powerful ending. What is the significance of the whale and its owners? And is Valuska (Lars Rudolph) as innocent as it seems on the surface? The result is a long (140 minutes), gripping and exciting film that leaves more questions than answers at the end.