Le désert des Tartares

.In France,when the movie was released,a lot of critics snubbed it,putting disparagement on it,because it could not hold a candle to Buzzati's masterpiece.But as Jean Cocteau said,critics judge art works,and they don't know they are judged by them!

Valerio Zurlini and his producer-star Jacques Perrin were faithful to the novel.They succeeded in bringing to the screen one of the most abstract ,metaphoric,and also depressing literature masterworks of the last century.Perrin is well cast as Drogo ,the young officer waiting,waiting,for something that never comes:the tartars attack symbolizes everything you long for,and when it seems it's happening,it's too late.Once proud and brave and full of great expectations,the hero becomes humble and bent,under the burden of the years passing by,inexorably,leaving him a human wreck.

In this desolate landscape,in this infinite space,man is not numbered like every grain of sand.The grandiose shots of the desert,the mountains and this strange abandoned city,which seems to contain some mysteries of ancient times,all this contrasts terribly with man's fate:see his ridiculous ceremonies,his military iron discipline,his derisory and laughable "career",he who's only a breath in Time,only a little dandruff in an universe that eludes him.

Zurlini's movie is not totally satisfying when recreating the erosion of time.In the book,it was unbearable.But he made a movie any director should be proud of,a movie that must be seen because the task was hard,and the results are sometimes sumptuous.

Perrin portrays Drogo with a great conviction.As a producer,he had serious difficulties,he had to fight to convince ,and the end of the movie -which was intended to be ,like in the book,in an inn- could not be filmed because the actor/producer was running out of money.Give

this movie a chance ,the people who made it did their share!

Excellent, haunting movie, with great actors, but it falls short of the book. This I suspect often happens when reading a book before seeing the film. The book, the Desert of the Tartars by Dino Buzzati is an allegory for a man life and destiny. A man's hope to greatness, to glory, to accomplish great deeds. But as time passes, greatness is never attained, glory never achieved. Most of us us settle down in our routine. Drogo full of youth and enthusiasm set up for Fort Bastiano, the fortress protecting the border of his country. With the passing of time the precise, monotonous routine in the fortress becomes his life. He returns to the city and to his fiancé, but the city life does not please him. This part of the book is never shown in the movie. He returns to the fortress with hope of greatness if the Tartars ever attack and the star of glory to defend his country will shine upon him. Time inexorably goes by. Rumors of sights of Tartars prowling in the desert below are just rumors. Drogo is, we are getting older. His health starts to fail. But there is still hope in his hearth that the enemy may come. Then suddenly the enemy comes. The Tartars are invading, the desert under Fort Bastiano is full of them, the war has started, and while Drogo is carried away a young inexperienced officer coming from the city will have the honor and the glory of defending his country. Drogo's carriage is taking him to the city below where the greatest of all Enemies is awaiting for him.

A clichê advice, but in this case this good movie could ruin the superb book, if watched before.

Yet, it deserves to be watched after reading the book, it's not a square transposition, it has it's own soul.

if you know the novel, the film could be a correct adaptation. if you do not know the book, the film could be boring, too slow, too long, only an experiment. in fact, the truth is at the middle. the film is more than an adaptation but exposure of the point of view of director about the isolation of man in contemporary society. the purpose is served by the great cast, the desolated landscapes, the expectation as way to survive, the construction of the dramatic end. it is translation of a deep feeling and the book of Buzatti seems be, in many scenes, the perfect tool. so, it is not fair to define it using the expectations. because something does it special. maybe, the reflection in yourself. or the long expectations. or the sensation to see a Kafka works.

A film over two hours long set in a remote desert fort, with an all male cast and no action, may seem a daunting prospect, however THE DESERT OF THE TARTARS is a strikingly memorable experience. The characters are full of suppressed emotion and inner turmoil, the strange surrealistic fort a metaphor of their spiritual imprisonment, and the huge expanse of surrounding desert a tangent reminder, day by day, and year by year, of their fears and lost aspirations.

Time passes imperceptibly, and our dashing young lieutenant, played by Jacques Perrin and surrounded by a stellar male cast, ages and weakens as the desert and the constraints of life in the fort strips away his physical strength and inner resolve. He yearns to free himself of the debilitating fort's influence, but finds himself transfixed by the mystical challenges of the landscape, and the perceived danger from the unseen enemy beyond.

The dust of the desert, the artificiality of the military life within the walls of the fort, the rituals and uniforms, the unspoken fears, the friendships and animosities between brother officers, the authority that seldom explains it's decisions, the half-recalled memories of a former life, and the ever present foreboding created by the shadows of the desert, shadows that sometimes give rise to visions of a lurking threat that may, or may not, be hidden in those shadows.

Exemplary colour widescreen photography is aided immeasurably by the haunting themes written by Ennio Moricone, and at the disquieting and ominous conclusion of the film, we are indeed completely mesmerized by an impressionistic, visionary spectacle that will haunt us for a long time after the final credits roll.