Püha Tõnu kiusamine

Second feature from the Estonian director of the highly acclaimed Sugisball charts the catastrophic breakdown of the life of a dull, provincial middle-manager. Comparison with Tarkovsky and others may be premature but this is no sophomore effort and is worth taking seriously as it's full of impressive, meticulous scenes, ranging from droll to oddball to deeply disturbing, with good use of ambient music and innovative camera-work (surprisingly, still possible).

The narrative, in five parts, is sparse and evidently a large dose of obscurantism was added during the editing. At first it looks like a bleak comedy, then it seems to morph into a religious allegory (there's a fine scene where a priest walks up the wall) before developing into a quite nasty Lynchian nightmare involving cannibalism.

One synopsis I read bears scant relation to what I saw - the diabolic choice given to Tony by the 'Meister' whether to rebel or conform (presumably a simple metaphor of life under the Soviets) was absent - which may be just as well, because the obscurity of the narrative provides much of the atmosphere.

Bizarre and beautiful, disturbing and droll, "The Temptation of St. Tony" wonders what it means to be a good man by questioning the very foundation of morality in a world dominated by nihilistic ideas.

"«The Temptation of St. Tony» is a harrowing, often darkly comic nightmare, studded with allusions to art, literature and film."

Veiko Oonpuu's bold, contemporary update of the stations-of-the-cross genre more than lives up to the promise of his 2007 debut, Autumn Ball. Nods to filmmakers Bergman, Fellini, Bunuel, and Tarkovski aside, with a wink at such cultural icons as Bosch, Flaubert, and Blake, his imprimatur is on every frame of this delicious black-and-white prestige product.

As universal as its theme is, The Temptation of St Tony is also grounded in a specifically Estonian geographic and political landscape. (The near-naked protagonist wraps himself in the Estonian flag at one point for protection against the cold.)

In spite of a firm directorial hand, Ounpuu is a collaborative artist. He fuses Taniel's stunning cinematography (many of the exteriors feel primeval), a haunting soundscape, and Krigul's diverse original score into a substantial vision of man's metaphysical dilemma, one that provides Eelmaa a conduit in which to play out his magic.

A film that follows the travails of a middle management guy through a black-and-white Estonia, leading from funerals to swamps to theatres, from dinner parties to ruined churches and a cannibal cabaret nightclub.

This is an unusual and original film... whilst it has echoes of film-makers such as Roy Andersson or Bela Tarr, it is also clear that Ounpuu has his own original voice to develop. In a few places the surrealism or absurdism seemed, to me, a bit forced or self-conscious,but in many places the film is truly unique, funny, disturbing, odd, dreamlike and poignant. An unhoned, rough talent maybe, but a big one.. I'll look forward to his next film...

Tõnu (Tony) works under the thumb of an Estonian industrialist with the bearing and manner of an ape, and comes off as a curly-haired space cadet accountant. This film, in which he plays the central character, is a rather blatant anti-capitalist farce. There are overt references to Buñuel's Viridiana (a glorious updated tramp's banquet), and on consumption and the commodification of sexuality, to Pasolini.

The style overall though one might suggest is closer to Roy Andersson, with black humour drawing frequent guffaws from the audience, characters stewing in an oblivion of self-absorption, and Christian religious themes. Perhaps the humour is even self-reflexive, at one point Tõnu sits in a vast auditorium watching a drab staging of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya. A speech from Astroff is the most important, 'The peasants are all alike; they are stupid and live in dirt, and the educated people are hard to get along with. One gets tired of them. All our good friends are petty and shallow and see no farther than their own noses; in one word, they are dull. Those that have brains are hysterical, devoured with a mania for self-analysis. They whine, they hate, they pick faults everywhere with unhealthy sharpness. They sneak up to me sideways, look at me out of a corner of the eye, and say: "That man is a lunatic," "That man is a wind-bag." Or, if they don't know what else to label me with, they say I am strange.' The audience watching the play one feels are learning nothing from the lesson presented, and perhaps the audience watching the audience nothing either.

I'm not convinced either Õunpuu or Chekhov show people as being able to change. Tõnu worries about minutiae, for example whether a bleeding man will ruin the white leather seats of his trophy car, too concerned with liability and what he might lose to move, stuck in a bourgeois straitjacket. When did doing good become so hard?

Just to warn you that there are scenes of nastiness in the movie that may have stopped me watching the movie if I had known about them. They are generally to do with cannibalism.

My favourite scene may be the slow track in the dilapidated church, plaster peeled, frescoes gone, worshippers gone. I think that probably about sums the malaise up.

Subtlety and craft are occasionally lacking, but after the film I felt I was more humanised and so I give it top marks. Walked out feeling incredibly spooked.

Another unique film by the Estonian director Veiko Õunpuu. Too bizarre in some places near the end, but still a very emotional and deep picture. Like in his last film 'Sügisball' ('Autumn Ball'), many scenes feel fresh and inventive. Which is a very rare thing these days.