I've written about him before, and I'll probably write about him again. Chris Hedges is the fuckin' man, man. And he's back on BookTV even as we speak (so to speak), but don't worry, 'cause you can watch the whole thing online if'n you wants to. And I really think that you should.
I'd throw down some quotes, but I gots to go watch this thing. But I will say this: within a couple of minutes he quoted John Ralston Saul and Noam Chomsky. Sigh. He had me at Rebellion.
Ex Post LibroOculus: Too many great lines to set them all down here, so just a little taste (or two):
"We cannot use the word "hope" if we are not willing to rebel."
and (and this one is from memory, so it may not be exact, but it gets the main points)
"You've got to give Clinton his due: he turned the Democratic Party into the Republican Party, and he pushed the Republican Party so far to the right that they became insane."
2011 The Turin Horse
My first Béla Tarr film . . . because the Louisville Free Public Library had a copy. Quite entrancing, despite the fact that there's very little plot, very little dialogue, very few characters, and very long scenes. I wish I could put my finger on what it is about this film that made it so interesting to me, but I haven't really gotten a handle on it yet. It has something to do with, "life is really like that . . . even though it's not really like that." If you speak zen. It has something to do with the fact that because of the long scenes, you really enter into the movie. You find yourself really taking in everything that's in the scene rather than just brushing across it. In fact, after watching this movie "normal" movies seem absolutely psychotic. No wonder we're all such fucked up people and can't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. And it has something to do with the actors, of course. They manage to do a lot with the little they have to work with. Probably a consequence of having worked with Tarr for decades (at least in a few cases). I wouldn't say that this film is particularly symbolic or any of that. It's a film about the end of the world, I suppose, but a very personal, a very small world. The whimper, not the bang. There's one part in the film where the daughter asks her father, "What's it all about?" or something close to that. The father replies, "I don't know. Let's get some sleep." And in a way, that's kind of a haiku about mortal existence. There are those who question the meaning of existence. They do not receive an answer, and their questions are not appreciated by others. And there are those who simply refuse to face the questions--for whatever reasons--and they just stick to doing what comes next, also known as surviving. Awhile back I wrote something along the lines of, "Everything we do that doesn't actively contribute to our physical survival is just a way of distracting ourselves from the boredom of existence." I think that fits this film . . . or at least the aforementioned scene. Anyway, I loved this movie and really want to sit down and watch it with many other people. So far no takers.
UPDATE: First taker! (My third viewing!) And Brother James handled it ably. Hats off to ya, my boy.
Available from the Louisville Free Public Library. Also available for purchase from Amazon and from Netflix DVD.
2007 The Man from London
My last Tarr movie. and you know, I have to admit that while I wanted to see this one, obviously, since I'd really enjoyed all of the other films, I didn't have high expectations for it. I think that was because it was based on a Georges Simenon novel. I'd never read any of Simenon's works, but I do remember seeing my mom read at least one . . . or maybe I just saw it on her shelf . . . and for some reason I thought that he was the author of The Saint novel(s). So a kind of Frenchified John Le Carre at best, Frenchified Ian Fleming at worst. But I have just now discovered that I was completely wrong, and that the closest Simenon got to a Saint novel was The Hanged Man of Saint-Pholien, The Saint-Fiacre Affair, and The Little Saint . . . though, to be fair to my prejudice, two of those books feature Jules-Joseph Anthelme Maigret, a fictional French police detective. So I guess that's where my wires got crossed. But das mach nights, because this movie was amazing. I loved the way Tarr often shot through windows, then followed the action across the windowpanes.
One of the reviewers on IMDb referred to the opening of this film as "The most boring opening 20 minutes in cinema history." And I can see that . . . but I don't feel it myself. I don't know why. My best guess is that (1) the slow camera movements allow me to really examine the images before me, which makes me feel like I'm more a part of the movie itself, and (2) the camera movements and the sound (sometimes music) actually creates a tension in me. It's not the kind of tension that fast cuts and explosions creates, but I'm really not into that kind of shit so much.
So, speaking of the slow . . . This movie contains a mere 29 cuts. 139 minutes . . .and 29 cuts. For an average scene length of about five minutes. (The Turin Horse had 30 cuts . . . but it was a longer movie. By 7 minutes. So just about even Stephen there.) For the sake of comparison, I watched the first few minutes of The Homesman, which I selected because it was a newish movie not known for its frenetic pace, and it hit 29 cuts by the five minute mark. This a chunk of that included the opening titles, I counted off again from there, at another 29 cuts had occurred by the time the film hit the 7 minute mark. So there's that. (By the way, The Homesman looks kind of interesting, and I'd actually wanted to see it, so I will probably come back to this later. Best line so far: the guy visiting Hilary Swank tells her he made some cheese and asks her if she wants some, saying, "I got some right here in my pocket." Heh heh. Is that cheese you've got in your pocket or . . . . ) And it only took World War Z two minutes to get to 29 cuts . . . and that doesn't include any of the company logo thingies, which took up a minute. So you can see why a modern movie goer might have trouble with Tarr's pace.
Speaking of Tarr's pace, I found a lovely li'l interview with Béla Tarr re: The Man From London by Fabien Lemercier. It's worth seeing out.
I really enjoyed this movie. Think I'll go watch it again.
On Netflix DVD. Also available for purchase and instant video on Amazon.
2004 "Prologue" segment of Visions of Europe
A stunning five minutes of film, really. Black and White. And all one shot. To tell you why it's stunning would be to spoil the thing, so go find it and see for yourself. I would add, however, that it's important to see the end credits as part of the movie. (Alas, I didn't come up with that thought on my own, I read it in an article about Tarr . . . but I don't remember which one, and I don't feel like going back to find it. So thanks, Unknown Smart Person who gave me that insight.)
Available online and as an extra on DVD 4 of Satantango--which is available through Netflix DVD.
2000 Werckmeister Harmonies
This movie was so good . . . it may have entered into my top ten, and I've just finished watching it for the first time. I'm trying to keep those Netflix discs moving, so I have been watching them and sending them back the next day, but I may want to keep this one just a bit longer. Not only so I can watch it, but so that I can get somebody else to watch it, too. I actually think that anybody could watch and be moved by this film--and this is mos def the first Tarr film I'd say that about. Why? Well . . . it's got heart. A lot of that comes from the performance of Lars Rudolph as János Valuska. He is just an amazing guy. He brings life and hope and charm to the character of János . . . and that makes the tragedy of the town at the end of the movie all the more powerful. This film had a lot of the Tarr hallmarks--stark black and white, lots of mist, long shots and loooooong shots, men chopping firewood, drinking, dancing, an older man being undressed by a younger person . . . but it's much less empty than the other films. It's got a whale, for Christ's sake. And a riot. And a helicopter. Really, what more could you want in a movie? And let me emphasize that this was a very powerful emotional experience. It did have it's light-heartedness, too, but the ending is just devastating. Anxious to watch it again. Maybe going to go ahead and buy it.
Available on Netflix and for purchase on Amazon.
1995 Journey on the Plain (Short)
This movie really puzzles me. It seems so Not Bela Tarr. It does have the long takes, true, but not nearly so long as in other works. In fact, I think this 35 minute film has more cuts than the 2 1/2 hour The Turin Horse. That may be an exaggeration, but it doesn't feel like one. Also it's in color, which is a first for me with Tarr. In fact, the beginning shot is done through some kind of filter so that it looks like the "comic book" settling on my computer's camera. And it looks like it's been shot on videotape rather than film. There's a flatness to the image and a tinniness to the sound that makes it seem less than professional. And unlike everything else I've seen, it's not about relationships between people. It's just one guy declaiming to the camera most of the time. And he does declaim. Almost all of the dialogue is along the lines of "I have so much grief, I must drink." Which gets pretty old. There has got to be a larger story behind this film--as in why he chose to make it, what "story" it's based on, etc. I have been reading a book on Tarr's films, so maybe I'll get the rest of the story there. But this is by far the weakest of the films that I've seen so far. His first short was much more interesting, much more compelling, than this one.
Ut! Ut! I guess I don't have to wait to see what the book has to say. I checked IMBd and found that the writer of this film was Sándor Petöfi (1823–1849)--in fact, that it is based on some of his poems, and that Petôfi is considered to be a national institution. Hmmm.
Addendum: Whilst searching for poems, I found this bit of information, which completes, I think, the explanation of why Tarr chose this subject and text for his film--though still doesn't explain the--pardon--shitty execution: in an addition to being a national institution, Petöfi was a big part of The Revolution in Hungary.
Addendum 2: I watched it again, and I have to say that knowing that it was a series of poems did change the way I saw it. Some of the poetry still seemed insipid, but there were moments of poignancy, too. For instance, one poem had a line that said, "when his life is held by only one two spider-web strands . . . . " And then I started to think about the way the film had been shot, and I started to think, you know, this does seem to have a kind of intimacy . . . maybe that explains the choices of color and videotape (if that is indeed true)? I don't know. But I would no longer say that you can skip this one. And you do need to be able to read the texts of the poems in English. And that's all.
Available online and as an extra and as an extra on DVD 4 of Satantango--which is available through Netflix DVD.
1994 Satantango
Discs 1 and 4 are available on Netflix, but that only gets you the first two hours of the movie (1) and special features (4). Nice all region copy available on eBay. Also some copies on Amazon, but none are Region 1.
I watched the first and fourth discs from Netflix, then decided to go for it and ordered a copy from South Korea on eBay. Just started rewatching the first disc, and of course since I am now speaking Tarr fairly well I'm noticing things I didn't (or couldn't) have caught before.
For instance, there's a part where Irimiás (played by Mihály Vig) and Petrina (played by Putyi Horváth) are conversing while walking in the rain down a muddy road. From what I can discern, they are going to find their partners in a crime so that they can get their share of the money. Petrina asks, "How do you know they're still there? They ran away a long time ago . . . . They have that much sense." Irimiás answers, "Them? They were servants and they will be servants all their lives. They sit in the kitchen, shit in the corner and look out the window now and then. I know them inside and out." Petrina then asks, "What makes you so sure? I feel there's nobody there, houses empty, the tiles all stolen." Irimiás replies, "They just sit on the same dirty stools. Stuff themselves with potatoes and don't know what happened. They eye each other suspiciously, belch away in the silence, and wait, because they think they've been cheated. Slaves that lost their master, but they can't live without pride, dignity and courage. Yet deep down they feel it doesn't come from them. For they only like living in their shadow." It's pretty uncanny how many correspondences there are between what Irimiás says here and the characters (and "plot") of The Turin Horse--which doesn't come along until 17 years later.
1990 "The Last Boat" segment of City Life
Unable to locate this one anywhere.
1988 Damnation
Verrrry interesting movie. I'm especially intrigued by the penultimate scene--let's just say the one with the barking and leave it to you to watch it for yourself. I also was interested in the repeated motif of thinking you're watching, but actually you're watching the watcher. For instance, the movie opens with a scene of moving coal cable cars, and you watch and listen to them for a bit. Then the camera pulls back, and you see the edge of a window, so you realize that you're watching the cars through the window. Then the camera pulls back some more and there's a guy looking through the window. So you're not watching the coal cable cars, actually. You're watching the guy watch the coal cable cars. And that idea is repeated a couple of times. This is also the first Tarr film I've seen in which there was any visual sexuality. (Family Nest had a rape scene, but you only see the actors from the waist up.) In fact, there are a couple of topless women in one scene, a single topless woman nursing a child in another scene, a woman taking a bath in another scene (only seen from behind, and she stays submerged in the water, so you actually don't see any of her parts), and a scene of a couple making love . . . though you actually don't see any body parts worth noting there either. And it occurred to me that sex is pretty insignificant in the Tarr films I've seen so far. One of the characters in Damnation talked about his aversion for kids, and I started thinking about what he had to say in the context of the Tarr oeuvre, and I came up with this hypothesis: sex isn't important to Tarr because sex is an instrument of joy and hope, and he is exploring a world devoid of those qualities. Or a world which is losing those qualities, perhaps, since, for instance, Werckmeister Harmonies seems to have a bit of hope in the first half of the movie, at least.
Well, I haven't seen The Prefab People yet, so I may have to change this statement, but at this point I think Damnation is the first really Tarrish film that Tarr made. It has the look and feel that continue to develop and deepen through what I've seen of Satantango (first 1/3), Werckmeister Harmonies, and The Turin Horse. And speaking of The Prefab People . . . guess what just came in the mail today? So there next. (Chronologically, not spatially.)
Just finished watching Damnation for a second time and I have some thoughts. While the title could (and probably does) refer to every character in the movie, I think it is most fully realized in the character of Karrer. He is a guy who goads a woman into killing herself, who pursues a married woman and attempts to (and maybe succeeds in) getting her husband put into jail . . . he is a guy who is told (by the woman he loves), "We must return to beauty . . . discover life once again . . . the joy of important things. The taste of victory and success. And this is what you can't do. Because you've already given up. You've killed the love and honour in you." He "loves" this woman, but only in the most selfish of ways. In truth, he has abandoned all other human beings. He even tacitly admits this when he tries to tell the woman why he loves her. He tells her that she is the gateway to another world that he longs for, essentially. Which means that it is not really her that he loves, but the access she provides to him to that other world. That's really no different from a woman who marries a man because he is wealthy so that she can enjoy the finer aspects of a materialistic existence. It's about using a person to get what you want and / or need. And I think that's why Karrer is damned. When you exist only for yourself, you are damned. In fact, I would argue that when you exist only for yourself you have actually cut yourself off from the human community . . . which would explain those last two scenes in the movie quite nicely. Speaking of which, I guess that's another reason that I see Karrer as being to focal point of the titular damnation. The movie opens with him gazing at the coal cable cars--and this might well be while that aforementioned woman he abused is lying on the bathroom floor either dead or dying, I realize in retrospect--and ends with his wandering a barren landscape. So it would seem that those bookends imply that the focus of damnation is on him.
Powerful movie. Definitely got more out of it by watching it a second time, and wouldn't at all mind watching it again, but I'm going to move on to Satantango now. The Big One.
Available on Netflix and for purchase on Amazon.
1984 Almanac of Fall
Music comes in at about the 47 minute mark which (1) reminds me of Philip Glass and (2) is the kind of music I now associate with Tarr. Scene shot up through glass floor--kind of cool, kind of wondered what was the point other than that. Also, two male characters were fighting, and when a violent movement was made the whole glass shifted, which was kind of distracting.
Use of color was very strange in this movie. At times the screen would go to all red, all orange, all blue, all green . . . other times it would split with red on one part and blue on the other . . . other times it was pretty natural looking. Don't know what was up with that, but it was kind of creepy.
I'd be hard pressed to tell you what this movie was about. It kept my interest, but I had a hard time telling the male characters apart--which is totally my fault, my visual recognition center must be shit, as I constantly have this problem, both in watching movies and in real life. People just kind of all look the same to me. I got the impression that most of these people--in fact, probably all except the mom, and I'm not 100% sure about her, either--were really shitty, self-centered, manipulative bastards and bitches. I think I'm going to have to watch it again, though. Maybe make a character scorecard.
Incidentally, the movie ends with an interesting version of the song "Que Sera, Sera." (Speaking of which, this song has been recorded about a million times, and has been featured in at least four prominent Hollywood movies: The Man Who Knew Too Much, Please Don't Eat the Daisies, Heathers, and The Glass Bottom Boat. I just thought you should know.) The lyrics were similar to the ones sung by Doris Day, but had a nasty, cynical twist.
Had a second viewing. Think I've got a handle on it now. First off, the characters:
Hédi (played by Hédi Temessy, 59)
Anna (Hédi 's nurse, played by Erika Bodnár, 36)
Miklós (Anna's lover, played by Miklós B. Székely, 30)
Tibor (János's teacher, played by Pál Hetényi, 49) He looks a lot older than 49 in this movie.
János (Hédi 's son, played by János Derzsi, 36) Had a hard time finding a young picture of him. Hard to believe he's the same guy who's in The Turin Horse.
It actually took the second viewing and some help from IMDb just to get that straight. I wasn't even sure how many men there were until the second viewing, and even then it took awhile to identify each one. I'm not sure that Miklós is ever identified by name, actually. And it wasn't until the one hour mark of the second viewing that I was sure that Tibor was János's teacher.
Here's what I think I know:
Anna is a complete bitch who presents opposing faces to János's and Hédi, basically pitting them against each other. (As if they needed any help with that.) In the scene where she reveals her true colors to Hédi, she actually physically assaults the older woman. It's pretty hard to watch . . . especially so because it's obvious that there are no stunt doubles. The same is true to a lesser extent when János assaults a drunken Tibor. (The differences being that Tibor is being a drunken asshole and is coming at János, and that János isn't as rough with him as Anna is with Hédi.)
Speaking of János, he seems to be a complete asshole. He physically assaults his own mother, he threatens to kill her, and not only does he move into her apartment against her will, but he brings his teacher (Tibor) in, too . . . even when she expressly tells him that he cannot do this. You also get the impression that he hasn't done much of anything with his life in the thirty years he's been around--just mooching off of his mom. He also beats up Tibor and puts a broken bottle to his throat . . . and rapes Anna.
Tibor seems like he might have been okay at one time. He talks about the futility of existence, but he also assets that you have to continue living, you have to keep moving forward, and that you have to love someone. Or something. He also loves Hédi--or so he says, and I don't think he's lying. I'm not 100% certain, but I think she gives him a blow job at around the one hour mark--when that Philip Glass-y music I referred to earlier comes in. And after that he fucks Anna. Sheesh. That's gratitude for you.* He's also a drunk, and though I don't know why he's in debt to a loan shark, that's usually not a sign of moral rectitude. Plus he steals a bracelet from Hédi. On my first viewing I thought it was the police who took him off at the end, but this time around it's clear that the police didn't get involved in the theft issue at all; the loan shark people got him. Which seems just.
Miklós . . . well, he seems like a big moocher and ne'er-do-well as well. He doesn't even care enough to know Tibor's name--when they're living in the same apartment--until Anna's gives him shit about it. He does give Tibor a nice shave after that and there seems to be a little real affection between them. In fact, come to think of it, I really got the impression that they did know each other and had a past history together, so maybe he was just bullshitting Anna when he acted like he didn't know Tibor. Anyway, he also roughs Tibor up, and Tibor is pretty old, so that's not nice. (What is up with the roughing up old people motif here?) And he beats Anna a bit. On the other hand, he does have a few what seem like tender moments talking to Hédi. Though in the midst of one of those moments he says something like, "What if I just choked you right now?" So there's that.
Which only leaves Hédi, and I think she's the only decent human being here. Although she does tell Miklós that Anna has fucked Tibor, which leads to Tibor getting roughed up by Miklós. This is pretty clearly Hédi seeking to get revenge on Tibor. But hell, he did fuck another woman after she gave him a blow job, so he kind of deserved to get his ass kicked at least a little bit. She does seem to hang in there with her son, though . . . which he definitely doesn't deserve. I think she's the only character in the film who manages to survive and not become a predator or a parasite.
I'd like to know how Tarr achieved some of the lighting effects in this movie, as I can't figure it out at all. Which is cool. And despite the fact that it's confusing and not a whole lot happens, I found this to be a very interesting movie. My attention did not flag . . . not even the second time around, which happened less than 24 hours after my first viewing. There aren't too many movies I'd be willing to do that for. Also, watching the second time I started thinking abut the relationships between these characters as being somewhat akin to the relationships between people on Survivor. Your main goal is to "survive," so you make alliances with other characters in order to ensure your own survival. And if you have to, you betray alliances. It's not about honor, it's about survival. Not the way I want to live, but I can see why it makes sense.
* I read a bit on this movie in The Cinema of Béla Tarr: The Circle Closes (Directors' Cuts) by András Bálint Kovács (which costs $22.99 in Kindle, $25 in paperback, and $67.50 on hardback on Amazon . . . but which I'm reading "for free" on Scribd), and I was wrong. It's Anna doing a jobbie on Tibor. So it's possible I invented the whole Hédi had sex with him. But she was clearly upset when she found out that Anna had had sex with Tibor, so I'm still cool with her getting him beat up.
Available on Netflix and for purchase on Amazon.
1982 Macbeth
There's a lot of good stuff to say about this version of Macbeth. There's some bad, too, though. Starting with a shot of bad, in the first (of two) scenes, Macbeth questions how the witches could refer to him as the Thane of Cawdor a couple of times, but then refers to himself as Thane of Cawdor--yet at no point did anyone tell him that this had happened. Unless he was wearing a Bluetooth device. Early on in the second scene, Lady Macbeth (reading Macbeth's letter to her) tells us that Macbeth received a letter corroborating the witches's prophecy, but that actually never happened. I guess they just forgot to include that bit.
Using the walking violin player to transition between Lady Macbeth greeting Macbeth and Lady Macbeth greeting King Duncan was very nice. Which also made me think that the woman playing Lady Macbeth must have had to really run to get to her place in time to beat the violin player, who was walking at a pretty good clip.
I liked the way you could see the breath of the characters. Must've been a cold castle.
The woman who played Lady Macbeth was really good, able to play the soft notes when they were called for, able to seem very powerful when that was needed. She also fed into the sexual ambiguity of the play in that with her short hair and her facial structure she was able to look both reasonably attractive and androgynous. Actually she reminded me a little bit of David Bowie--especially in her profile shots.
The guy who played Macbeth was good, too, but as impressive as his loud voice was, I didn't get the sense that he really knew when to use it . . . like maybe he didn't completely understand the play. So, for instance, after murdering Macbeth . . . when the rest of the castle's inhabitants are asleep . . . he begins roaring like a madman. While that's appropriate emotionally, it makes no senses in terms of the narrative situation. Somebody would awaken, and then the jig would be up.
The castle in which the film was shot looked quite appropriate. If it was a castle. Sure looked like a castle.
And of course the camerawork was amazing. There were times when I actually forgot that there was a guy holding the camera and following the actors around.
The dagger hallucination scene (no special effects, just Macbeth grabbing at the air until he finally pulls out his own dagger) was pretty weak. Actually seemed kind of silly.
I was impressed that Tarr was able to get so many horses for this production, and very impressed by the way that some of the characters fell off of the horses. Maybe they were actually professional stunt people. I had the idea that that wasn't so, but those moves would have been pretty dangerous for regular folk to do. Also, the sword fighting was pretty weak, another thing that made me think professional stuntmen weren't doing the work here.
Also loved the guy who played the porter. His eyes were damned near completely shut as he walked down several candle-lit hallways. They looked like they were swollen shut, actually. And I'm not sure where I heard it--I listened to a couple of interviews with Tarr--but Tarr told a story about how the guy who played the porter was a total drunk, and talked about how hard it was to get him to recite his speech (which is a pretty long monologue, actually). Which also made me think about how the second scene is 55 minutes long, and how Tarr said that they would get to 34 minutes and somebody would fuck up, so they'd start all over. But I am pretty sure he also said that they did all of the filming in five days, so they must've been pretty good actors. Film actors could probably never do something like this, ya know? Most of them seem to work in one minute increments.
Cutting the play down to one hour and eliminating any obvious "time has passed" effects just didn't work in some spots. For instance, Macbeth goes from raging about Duncan's murder to politely inviting Banquo to come to a feast tonight with just a few seconds in between. (It comes off as comical.) It also causes a few plot problems, as when Macbeth goes from inviting Banquo to the feast to, after a brief walk down the hall, discussing his plan to murder Banquo with a murderer he's hired. (And yep, there's just one. But there's no Fleance in this version, so maybe they only needed one for the job.) When would he have had time to do that? Etc. I think that having included the complete text of the play would have softened those blows, but maybe that just wasn't possible. It was made for tv, after all, and the tv people get to make the rules about that stuff.
Available as an extra on DVD 4 of Satantango--which is available through Netflix DVD.
1982 The Prefab People
I have to say that I don't like this title very much. I played around a bit on translations online, but it didn't give me any other choices. But you know, if it was even The Prefabricated People I'd like it a little bit better. I think it's my animosity for the truncating of words that is the larger issue here. But there it is. The 9th anniversary scene in the movie (really the third scene) was very disorienting, since we don't know--at least at first--if this occurs before or after the previous scene. I liked that. It made me pay closer attention to what the characters were saying as I tried to grasp where they were chronologically. I also thought it was interesting that Feleség (played by Judit Pogány) says to Férj (played by Róbert Koltai) that she can't stand doing the same meaningless things day after day, and he replies that they should just go to sleep. This is just a more elaborate form of what Ohlsdorfer (János Derzsi) says to his daughter (Erika Bók) in The Turin Horse almost thirty years later. And the ways that the lines are different are also quite interesting. In this film, the lines are exchanged between two characters who are living in an apartment filled with stuff in a populous city. The characters have names and their relationship is clearly delineated. In The Turin Horse, on the other hand, the femal. e character is not identified by name, and the fact that she is the daughter of Ohlsdorfer is not made clear until this scene, actually, wherein she refers to him as Papa. Also, these two characters are stranded in a broken down and empty house in the middle of nowhere and nothing. It's as if the prefab people have been forced to relocate in the world of Waiting for Godot. You can see that Tarr, like Beckett, was focused on paring things down until only what was necessary remained on "the page."
There's a brief, completely un-erotic sex scene--no nudity (well, the man is not wearing a shirt, so there's that), the scene is filmed from waist up, it's pretty dark so there are mostly just shadows, and there's no music. I think that reinforces what I was thinking about sex in Tarr movies (above).
The ending of this movie is pretty devastating. Judit Pogány just rips your heart out.
Available for purchase from Amazon.
1981 The Outsider
An all Béla Tarr movie--writer and director. And in color, and a lot more cuts than the later stuff. Even the long shots aren't all that long--maybe two minutes or so. When the movie opens, you think that András ( played byAndrás Szabó) is a really good guy, but then as the plot begins to unwind you see more and more how selfish he is. Although possibly this is not true when he is playing his violin. Reminded me a bit of Hotel Magnezit, especially at the beginning, wherein we see András go from calm to agitated to physically violent as he attempts to give an obstreperous patient his injection. It's a very real, very believable progression--in both films. I'm also thinking that I'm starting to see a pattern in Tarr's films which goes like this: strange person comes into the scene, says some whacked out shit which is actually true, then departs. It's almost like having a prophet enter into the mix. And it doesn't really have any effect on the characters, but I think it does on the audience. Interesting.
Available online or for purchase from Amazon.
1979 Family Nest
One of the films I had to buy to see, but I'm okay with that--especially since I'm now hip deep in Tarr. This film was much like Hotel Magnezit--and much unlike The Outsider. Black and white, tight focus on character faces, not too many looooong shots, very cacophonous dialogue, lots of anger. It was quite involving--and hard to watch at times, as in the rape scene, of course . . . though the scene immediately following was in some ways even more painful and baffling. But there's not much of the later Tarr in this film. I don't think I'd have guessed that they were by the same director, actually.
Available for purchase on Amazon.
1978 Hotel Magnezit (Short)
Strange li'l movie, this. Not really much of the Béla Tarr of later years to be seen here.
Available online--but without subtitles, which means you won't get much beyond "some people are angry" out of this. Also available as a DVD extra on The Turin Horse--with subtitles.
So . . .
I first happened upon Béla Tarr on the 18th of May (2015), via my chance picking up of the novel Seiobo There Below, which led to me Googling László Krasznahorkai, which led me to the films of Béla Tarr. And now, with the assistance of YouTube, the Louisville Free Public Library, Netflix DVDs, Amazon, and eBay, in less than a month ("today" being June 13th), I've seen all of Tarr's films except for a short segment he did for a documentary which doesn't seem to exist anywhere, and I've finished one Krasznahorkai novel and started another, and I've read a book on Tarr's films (The Cinema of Béla Tarr: The Circle Closes by András Bálint Kovács--which was an excellent read), and I've started writing a short story centered on some of the stuffs I've gleaned from this Hungarian experience.
Who says this isn't a great time to be alive?
When I was a kid, queer was what you were if you wore white socks. And the recess game of Smear the Queer had nothing to do with sexuality or gender identity. Maybe that was just the insular environment of a Christian elementary school in Baltimore, but there it is. Or was.
Later I learned that Queer also meant homosexual, and it was a word that was meant to hurt people, not to identify them. So it was a word I never used unless I was alluding to the work by William S. Burroughs. And it's still a little dissettling for me to hear people refer to others or even themselves as Queer. But I've got no dog in that fight, so what the hell. Call yourself whatever you want to call yourself.
The ante got upped for me the other day, however, when I was talking to a woman who identifies herself as Queer, and in the midst of our conversation she referred to herself as "someone who was obviously visually Queer." That phrase meant nothing to me. I also didn't want to accidentally stray onto any thin ice, so I didn't ask her about it. The next day I was talking to another woman who identifies herself as Queer, though, and since I knew her well I told her about that conversation and noted that I didn't know what Queer Woman One meant by that comment. Queer Woman Two said that that meant that Queer Woman One had a shaved head and wore a certain type of clothing.
My mind was officially blown. I am going to hazard a guess that if I suggested that I could tell if someone was Queer or not by looking at them that I would be labeled as judgmental or narrow-minded . . . a label that I would think apropos in such a case. I suggested to Queer Woman Number Two that that seemed to me like an inverted stereotype . . . by which I meant a person changing their behavior to fit someone else's preconceived notion of their identity. That got me accused of being a person of the privileged class (meaning race, gender identity and preference, and education, since I certainly miss that mark in terms of economic worth). Which I didn't think was a fair assessment.
I wish there were more people I could talk to about this, though, as it really bothers me. My perspective is that to suggest that you can identify any aspect of someone's identity by looking at them is narrow-minded and hateful. But just in case I'm wrong, here is a cheat sheet for future reference:
 |
| QUEER |
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| NOT QUEER |
Just saw the last hour or so of Avatar. Don't feel the need to see any more of it. Why is this the #1 top grossing movie of all time? It's not even good science fiction. And I don't think you have to be a military strategist to see that in the climactic final battle, the humans were going way out of their way to get their shit fucked up. I never thought I could say such a thing, but I think I found the Ewoks triumph over the Empire's forces more believable than this bullshit.
My biggest complaint about this movie is that the stupid native people need a white guy (Jake) to lead them to victory. And although a vague allusion was made to Jake "knowing the technology" of the humans, none of that knowledge was used by the blue folks. (I really don't have time to look up the name of the people. Sorry for the disdain.) But I have lots of other complaints. Like the bad guys being bwa-ha-ha bad guys. That never works for me. People are a little more complex than that, ya know? And, of course, a big BIG complaint is that this story was ripped off from Poul Anderson's "Call Me Joe" (published in the April 1957 Astounding Science Fiction magazine and in Anderson's 1981 collection The Dark Between the Stars). Which you can see for yourself if you have a dollar to spare: http://www.amazon.com/Call-Me-Joe-Poul-Anderson-ebook/dp/B005H7LJJM It's worth it.
Here's a little excerpt from an online article entitled, "Did James Cameron Rip Off Poul Anderson's Novella":
"Like Avatar, Call Me Joe centers on a paraplegic — Ed Anglesey — who telepathically connects with an artificially created life form in order to explore a harsh planet (in this case, Jupiter). Anglesey, like Avatar's Jake Sully, revels in the freedom and strength of his artificial created body, battles predators on the surface of Jupiter, and gradually goes native as he spends more time connected to his artificial body." READ THE REST HERE
Joe found Noah on Netflix and we sat down together to watch it. The next day we were talking about the movie, and he asked me if I knew the names of Noah's sons. I came up with Ham and Shem, but couldn't think of the third one. Joe looked it up on the internet and found out that the other son's name was Japheth. Then he told me, "Shem is the oldest son, and Japheth is the youngest son. And Ham is the middlest son."
Which is really quite logical.
It reminded me of the time that he was talking about the Holy Family and he referred to "Jesus Christ, Mary Christ, and Joseph Christ." You know, the Christ family.
