November

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.

"November" is a beautiful, poetic, darkly comedic, fantastical, tragic love story that will absolutely dazzle arthouse audiences (and probably no one else). The film was made in Estonia, shot in stark black and white, and the script features encounters with the dead and the devil, bargains with witches, bullets made of sacramental bread, magic spells, hidden treasure, a bewitched Baroness, a literal personification of pestilence, an omniscient snowman, and tools that are bewitched into creatures that speak and work. The film has many scenes where there's very little dialogue, and the viewer is forced to often forced to piece together what it is that is happening, or, if what is happening is completely real or metaphorical. "November" is a fantasy masterpiece on par with many of the films that Guillermo Del Toro ("Shape of Water") and Terry Gilliam ("Brazil") have put out.

Adaptation of an Estonian novel, it is a fine, subtle, inspired mix of fairy tale, magic and pagan community. A fascinating meeting of love, stealing and forbidden secrets. Embroidery of dark humor and poetry and high sensitivity. Impressive cinematography, it is not surprising but real well crafted. Short, just an Estonian gem.

This was a really slow burn of a film, but it was also kind of intense at points. The cinematography was incredible, and I enjoyed the interplay of the pagan and Christian beliefs. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I would watch this again.

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.