November

To all those who have difficulties understanding November: this is not Tarkovsky, Bergman, or Bunuel! This is just plain good art, with a story, good acting, awkward turns and situations - so get up from your Hollywood-trained armchair and give yourself a chance!

If you like surrealism and dark fairy-tales, and you haven't seen November yet, watch it before reading my review, because I wouldn't want to influence your expectations.

When I started watching November all I knew was IMDb's Drama, Fantasy, Horror categorization. Little did I know that I was about to experience two hours of a beauty so mesmerizing that it would almost bring tears to my eyes.

November is one of those rare cinematic creations that transcends the medium from mere entertainment into a profound work of art. I can think of only a handful of directors that have lifted the art of cinema to this level, such as Akira Kurosawa, Stanley Kubrick, David Lynch and Lars von Trier.

November is a surreal, dark fairy-tale that takes place in a mediaeval Estonian village. The story is a mix of Shakespearean romantic drama and rural folklore that pleasantly reminded me of the magical countryside fairy-tale atmosphere in the works of the Croatian naive art painter Ivan Generalic, as well as the imaginative surreal comics by the Greek-French comic creator Fred (Frédéric Aristidès).

The most breathtaking aspect of November is its cinematography. The film is shot in moody, darkly romantic black and white photography with beautiful lighting and screen compositions.

But November is filled with beauty in multiple layers. A beautiful soundtrack - incorporating Beethoven's Mondschein-Sonate - intensifies the atmosphere, the costumes, sets and overall art direction are gorgeous, and there's even lyrical poetry of a poignant grace. It will be a challenge to create something more romantic than November has established.

Last but not least, the casting and actors are also laudable. The two main female characters radiate a magnetic beauty, and the peasants look like they have been time-transported from an actual mediaeval village.

Based on Estonian bestselling novel "Rehepapp ehk November" by Andrus Kivirähk. Many (me included) have deemed the book to be nearly impossible to adapt onto the big screen and it shows in the film. Still writer/director Rainer Sarnet has done quite nice (bit uneven at places, perhaps) job handling this difficult source material and creating surreal (anti)fairy tale land of misery and condemnation that stays true to it's roots but still stands on its own. What I mean by anti fairy tale is the landscape is bleak, people are miserable, they deceive and steal without any idea what to to with all the treasures they grabbed but simply bury them or hide under floorboards. Love is some strange silliness according these people and it's destined to fail. They follow old beliefs and base their lives on myths and legends. Tragic and same time hilariously beautiful in the sauce of dark humor. Some of the cast are formed by non-professional actors, thus some of the acting might seem wooden, but it adds to whole charm of the movie.

'November' might be little bit difficult to follow and understand to those who haven't read the novel before. Or someone who doesn't possess much knowledge about Estonian mythology and history. At least magnificent black and white cinematography offers some visual beauty to strange surreal land for those who don't get all what is hidden in the story. 'November' is pure art-house experiment that could have gone wrong in some many places.

Based on a best-selling Estonian novel, "November" is a mixture of magic, black humor and romantic love. The story is set in a pagan Estonian village where werewolves, the plague, and spirits roam. The villagers' main problem is how to survive the cold, dark winter. And, to that aim, nothing is taboo. People steal from each other, from their German manor lords, and from spirits, the devil and even Christ.

The jaded genre fan, this reviewer included, rarely says "what the heck??" when watching a film. Because, frankly, once you have reviewed over 6,000 titles including some of Takashi Miike's craziest work ("Visitor Q") you feel like you have seen it all. But then comes the opening scene of "November", leaving you wide-eyed and full of glee. What is this medieval, cow-stealing robot? This magical creature is a "kratt", which comes from Estonian mythology. If you happen to be like me, you don't know anything about Estonian mythology. Well, a kratt is a collection of sticks, straw and farm implements that is granted life by the devil after its make offers up some blood, representing their soul. The maker then commands the kratt, who spends most of its time stealing things – including cows – for its master. If someone is especially clever, they can use blackcurrant berries rather than blood; the devil apparently does not check very closely, and you end up getting a kratt without forfeiting your soul. (You probably anger the devil in the process, but that is a whole other story.) Besides the kratt, the first thing that stands out is the beautiful cinematography in grey, creating a bleak world and occasionally the picture even looks washed out. Often, black and white looks better than color, in part because it allows for greater contrast. Interestingly, it looks great here despite the lack of contrast; this is a murky land, and it is viewed in a murky fashion. Such a choice seems appropriate for this village of squalor, and it causes me to wonder if perhaps Robert Eggers' "The Witch" might have benefited from black and white? While there are multiple plots and subplots occurring simultaneously, the central focus is a young woman named Liina (Rea Lest) who is hopelessly and forlornly in love with a village boy named Hans (Jorgen Liik). There romance is pretty standard, the typically boy meets girl story in a small village. Except that one of the two runs the risk of becoming a werewolf. And yes, this actually makes complete sense.

Rea Lest is a new actress and will not be familiar to North American audiences. Jorgen Liik is slightly more experienced, but again will probably not appear familiar. The one actor who should definitely stand out is Dieter Laser, who appears as the baron. Active since the 1960s, today Laser is almost universally recognized for his starring roles in "The Human Centipede" and its second sequel. His role is important not just because he is a baron, but because he represents the more mainstream, anti-pagan religious and Christian views in the film.

A scene at the church suggests a rejection of Christ in favor of folk magic, but instead we have to wonder if they really accept a mixture of the two? They clearly believe in the folk ways (werewolves, talking with spirits) but do not reject the Christian views entirely. One hunter uses blessed communion wafers in his hunting, believing that Christ guides him. There is also a preoccupation with souls; whether longing for a soul, selling your soul, or living without a soul, the theme of souls comes up again and again.

After exceptional cinematography, the thing that stands out most is the menacing music, creating a constant sense of unease. There is even the inclusion of "Blue Danube" into the score. For reasons unknown, that song has always left me feeling uncomfortable, at least as far back as 1992 when it was incorporated into the video game "Alone in the Dark". It seems no less unsettling to me here.

"November" plays July 23, 2017 at the Fantasia International Film Festival, and is one of the more highly-anticipated films of the 3-week schedule. For those who cannot attend, the movie was picked up by Oscilloscope, who will be releasing the film in theaters this Fall. This film will open doors for writer-director Rainer Sarnet.

A not very coherent mishmash of Estonian unrequited love; witches; supernatural; folklore/myth; the devil; werewolves all very loosely connected to each other. You really don't see much, if any, of the above - just suggestive through a few props (Kratts - explained in a moment), makeup, and suggestive scenes in counterpoint to each other. The best part was the very believable, gritty, dirty, raw portrayal of peasant life. No, the best part were these brought to life assemblages of branches or farm implements to form a somewhat living thingy (a Kratt). Very realistic (except I think I saw a support line at one point), and actually scarier than any CGI creature I've seen. One of the creatures reminded me of Picasso's "Bull's Head". Another movie featuring these creatures would be creatively scarier than hell.