NOTE: This week I’m departing somewhat from my usual “still photography” focussed writing. I have visual interests beyond that, so why not share my thoughts on other topics from time to time?
Though I am primarily a still photographer, I love cinema. Or should I say “Cinema” with a capital “C.” Yes, I enjoy movies as much as the next person, and with the extended time spent at home, I’ve made my way through hundreds of hours of viewing via Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, as well as numerous DVDs. Much of it has been mindless escapism, soothingly watching peculiar British people baking Jammy Dodgers and Battenbergs. Supplementally, I’ve been challenging my eyes and my mind with great works by Welles, Godard, Varda, Fellini and many other masters of film. And even those of you who may be familiar with the more esoteric or challenging films out there, I will wager that nothing can fully prepare you for the work of Hungarian filmmaker Béla Tarr. What follows is not a critique of his work from a purely cinematic standpoint, nor do known enough about the man personally to opine on his life, motivations or ideas. Yet, as a somewhat visually astute artist, I hope my thoughts will intrigue you enough to give his films a try.
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “The Turn Horse.” Pass the salt, please.
My first experience with Tarr was maybe 5 or 6 years ago, when I watched “The Turin Horse” in a nearly empty theater on the campus of the University of New Mexico. I knew little about the film going in, except that it was a long, black and white, foreign film. I had know idea the ferocity of the experience to come. And I use that word specifically to describe the opening visuals of the film, an extremely long shot of a horse drawn carriage struggling through a near blinding wind storm. The wind storm remained present throughout the entire film, and was relentlessly weighing the existential dread conveyed in the quite simple story. A disabled farmer and his daughter struggle to live through what can only be described as the end of the world. As with most of Tarr’s work, the film is built of a few dozen extremely long takes, spread out over 2 hours and 26 minutes. It is an exercise in extreme control; not only of the filmmakers craft and storytelling, but control over the viewers themselves. You watch the film and you are at the complete mercy of Tarr. He will not cut away from a shot until he is good and ready, and for the contemporary viewer that is used to the frenetic jump cuts of everyday media, this approach is a combination of masochism and salvation. If you can sit through the numerous scenes of the family eating their potatoes, you are ready for anything.
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “The Man From London”
I have had the pleasure of seeing two other films by Tarr. “The Man From London” is probably the easiest for the uninitiated viewer to stomach. The story is quite simple, and the pacing is as slow as ever, but it rewards in a series of images that felt (to me) as still photographs come to life. In stark black and white, night scenes along a waterfront are an intoxicating display of texture. Again, Tarr doesn’t let the viewer off the hook; you must stare out of the dark, frosty window far as long as he says so. You are blinded by the white light of day of opened window shutters. You gaze at a bar scene of locals dancing to the sad songs from an accordion. And if you allow yourself, you remain riveted the entire time.
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “Werckmeister Harmonies.” A matter of life and death.
The most jarring of the films I’ve seen by Tarr has got to be “The Werckmiester Harmonies.” I won’t even begin to tell the plot, except to say that this film satisfied my existential dread more than the other two films mentioned here. There is particular scene where the main character studies the eyeball of a dead whale that I find almost tear inducing. Truly looking into the abyss. The film also contains a sequence of such ruthless violence that I still shudder when I consider it. However, I hope this does not dissuade you from giving it the time and viewing it truly deserves. It will change your perspective. As Tarr himself has said: “If someone watches it in a dark room, and after the lights go on that person feels they have more dignity, then we have done our job.”
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “Sátántangó.”
I’m excited that there are still a handful of Béla Tarr films I have not seen. I am working up the stamina to sit down at watch “Sátántangó,” a film that clocks in at over seven hours in running time. It will no doubt test the endurance of even the most devoted fanboys, such as myself. Yet, I am convinced the rewards will be well worth the effort.