Damnation

An exceptionally brilliant movie. But this is not for everyone. Beautifully shot in black and white, the director bravely specialises in spectacularly lengthy shots which the viewer's brain will either become absorbed by or reject for tedium. An interesting dimension which can heighten involvement in these long shots (or annoy the hell out the unconvinced) is rhythmical sound - be it cranky machinery (like the relentless mechanical pulley system outside the 'central' character's window) or people dancing to cabaret music. There is a detachment to the camera-work, particularly in the dance band sequences, which reminded me of Kubrick. Again this is an approach which will alienate many viewers but it lends a kind of philosophical power what would otherwise be mundane documentary social observation.

I watched this after the more recent Werckmeister Harmonies on the current double-disc DVD edition available in the UK which is a superb issue and has an interview with the Director as a bonus feature. Interesting to note that he states quite categorically that he intends no allegorical/symbolic element to his work.

In a town that is quite possibly the wettest place on Earth, the permanently raincoat-clad "Karrer" (Miklós Székely B) goes through the motions with a life that is little more animated than his dreich surroundings. What sustains him through the grand ennui of his existence is his love for the married singer in the gloomy "Titanik" bar (Vali Kerekes) for whom he declares, repeatedly, his undying love and for whose husband "Willarsky" (Gyula Pauer) he has little but contempt. Luckily for him, though, the guy is in almost permanent debt so is away frequently enough for the two to indulge their relationship, infatuation, addiction now and again. That's about the height of it. Can this ever decreasing circle ever change? What's quite intriguing about this cinematic festival of monochrome melancholia is that the story is almost irrelevant to what Béla Tarr seems to be offering us here. The photography is dank and dreary, the constant tracking shots, panning shots, lingering close ups of the rain dripping from branches or the faces of the customers in the bar - none of those actually do anything to support the plot, but they add a delicious richness to the whole allure of this film. There's a song - almost as depressing as the weather, completed by a gentle saxophonist that I felt rather summed up the whole ambiance of this glacially paced exercise in bleakness. I'm no film critic and am not in a position to write some extensive exposition on what motivated the director or how original his techniques at story telling are, I can only judge what was put before me for two hours and though, yes, at times it is downright dull, at other times it was a bit like wandering through an art gallery where the light (or shade) brought something out of the blandness of the scenario. It won't be for everyone as there really isn't that much actually happening, the dialogue is pretty sparse and the repetitive nature of the plot development might be risky for an audience required to focus for a couple of hours where the sight and sound of constant rain might just start to feel like a drip on your head. I'm not sure I'd ever watch it again - but as an exercise in epitomising the depressiveness of the routine, the hopeless and the pedestrianism of daily life, it's worth a watch. You probably ought to watch it in a cinema, though - at home on a television it will lose much of it's photographic distinction and you might just be tempted to hit fast-forward now and again.

In the oeuvre of Bela Tarr ugliness is elevated to art. In this respect "Damnation" is a good example because there is a lot of ugliness in it.

Ugli landscapes. In the opening scene we see, for minutes and minutes, an industrial conveyor belt. We shall see it again and again.

Unsympathetic people. The film is about three men in love with the same woman. The woman tries to use the men to enhance her career. The men fight each other in sneaky ways.

Bad weather. In "Damnation" it rains all the time. Even in interior scenes there is water leaking from the ceiling. In this respect Tarr resembles Andrei Tarkovski, who also has the "inside shower" as a trademark.

Bela Tarr is renowned for his long takes with a slow moving, nearly static camera. When combined with monotonous music these scenes sometimes become nearly hypnotic. In "Damnation" there are two of these scenes. The first is the performance of the female singer in the nightclub "Titanik", the second one is the local dance evening.

Apart from the three men and the woman, there is also an old lady in the movie that warns the lead character multiple times. Her function in the story was not entirely clear to me.

Very clear however is the symbolism with streetdogs, who populate the streets for most of the film. They evidently feel very much at home in this ugly environment. At the end of the film the lead character even has a (temporary) transformation to (the level of) a streetdog.

Hey! Crazy movie! Oh Gaad it was so boring and depressing! Actually I felt quite privileged to have watched this film. Some people are NOT making films with the intention of being popular, and Bela Tarr is one of them. Satantango is 7 and a quarter hours long, and this one stretches an existential eternity across its 2 hours, bringing us 2 hours closer to death but hopefully nearer to life.

I was looking for symbolic significance from the first achingly long shot, but we were lucky enough to have Tarr interviewed in the cinema afterwards. He scuppered any suggestion of symbolism in his films, insisting that the fact of pointing a camera lens only at things that exist means that metaphysics and allegory are impossible in film. More than a hint of his totalitarian background in his didactic description of his work.

I felt like I had learned something from this film. I thought it showed how life in Hungary can be depressing, a struggle, apparently hopeless, but that the hopelessness only really comes from inside the person. A desperate, selfish man lurks around the drab industrial landscape, fixated on his one motivation, the woman who is his object of desire. He hatches a plan to get rid of her husband. Afterwards the director stated explicitly that the plot is deliberately simple and even banal - the main character delivers one monologue about how all stories dissipate and all heroes dissipate and die away. He stated that the dogs and the rain which both haunt the film are characters and have stories as much as the people.

If you get the chance, go and watch it. It's a proper work of art, there's nothing wrong with it!!!!!!!!!!!

Damnation was one of those rare instances when I felt both frustrated and fascinated by the film I was watching. Bela Tarr is SO adept at creating mood that the light sketches of plot began to feel superfluous, and I found myself wanting to brush them away and just float in this surreal sludge without trying to follow a 'story'. Tarr's use of sound design and music to create tension and a dream-like state come closer to David Lynch's than anything else I've seen. The original (I'm assuming) songs in the film also share that distinctive quality of mimicking a certain genre of familiar music, while having something that's a bit off about them - much like Badalamenti's scores. Interesting to note that Blue Velvet was released two years prior. The slowly gliding camera, which seems to have almost it's own agenda aside from the film ads to the purveying sensation of unease, and the exquisite lighting and black and white tones are breathtakingly stark. There are moments in the film when there is so much going on in the scene, and the shot is so lengthy, that the situation itself becomes real and transcends the fiction of the film. This is a very rare phenomenon in film, and was absolutely spellbinding - especially the dance scene. The middle of the film gets heavy with bleak philosophical exchanges, which would be better illustrated than told - especially with Tarr's incredible gift for mis en scene and sound design. Iconographic sequences like the slow pan past the miserable crowds waiting for the rain to stop, or the reoccurring pack of wild dogs speak volumes more of Tarr's theme than the most eloquent words. The characters are like automatons shuffling about in a purgatory from which there is no escape. It is as though the entire world was a flea-bag apartment building, a tattered old bar, and a vast field of mud and debris which one must traverse between the two.