Movie reviews
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By Thaddeus 2022-07-21 20:50:46
In "Satanic Tango" There is Tension between Films
Rancière proposes that there is a tension between film and literature in Satanic Tango: "Bella Tarr constructs a visual scene that will survive a situation from a looping narrative (which tends to pull these scenarios together) with great power." But at the same time, this visual scene also breaks the narrative cycle because it translates the potency of these scenarios into many straight lines, pursuing shadowy, positive lines of escape. This straight, circular...
By Roselyn 2022-03-26 09:01:12
The sky is broken, the village is like a dream, the wind is howling, and the corpses are lying on the ground. On the abandoned land, people play the era of extinction with their steps, and the night clock keeps roaring.
Bellatar is immersed in the pinnacle of mirror movement skills. The unconventional twelve acts and nearly forty long takes advertise an ode to death that transcends the times. The top scheduling and flexible camera movements beautifully show objectivity. The polysemy...
By Stella 2022-03-25 09:01:19
Seven and a half hours, drowsy on the subway. The slow-moving shots, the figures' backs disappearing into the horizon, the flying white lace curtains, and the dignified close-ups of the faces, each shot makes people breathless. The deliberately weakened narrative, behind the condensed Hungarian history, and the loss of the individual in the collective event.
Like the magical realism of a century of loneliness, the spirit and soul of people here are empty, and life is boring...
By Rosalia 2022-03-25 09:01:19
"Satanic Tango": A Quartet of the Resurrection of the Undead
The film is seven hours long, but every minute is thunderous and fascinating. I wish I could read it again every year as long as I live.
- Susan Sontag
This film, praised by Susan Sontag, is the representative work of Hungarian writer Krasno Holkaj - "Satan Tango". In the original novel, the author's wonderful text structure and language style are unique, and all the protagonists in the dilapidated small village have no way out of their lives, and...
By Kacie 2022-03-25 09:01:19
Watching "Satan's Tango" is physical labor. In Bella Tarr's world, images are "time's work", which is the exact opposite of Tarkovsky's "sculpting time". The latter uses the impressions scattered in time and memory as materials, and arranges them according to their own expressions and metaphors. The former, on the other hand, strives to interfere as little as possible with the natural process of time and action. The set up stands are like "gazing eyes", watching a group of cows walk by...
User comments
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By Thora 2022-03-28 09:01:11
Why is there no "watching" option for Nima? ? ? ? ? ? It took me two hours in the middle of the night to really understand the true meaning of "exhausted". ....
By Janiya 2022-03-28 09:01:11
Like a chaotic and desolate nightmare, the novels are reproduced in chapters with images, which are linked together. Light, sound, and mirror movement are all excellent. All kinds of stillness and movement, all kinds of scenes, show the beauty of long shots. The mirror language flows as quietly as time, and it is exquisite to the extreme. Anxious eyes watched in the distance. The voice-over came in bursts, the line of sight was always blocked, and the truth was always outside the frame. Satan...
By Annabelle 2022-03-28 09:01:11
I'm sorry for not giving five stars for so long. . = = They? They are slaves, and they are slaves all their lives. They know nothing but eat potatoes. Suspiciously guessing at each other, hiccupping in silence because they thought they were being lied to. Slaves have no masters, but they cannot be without pride, self-respect, and courage. They don't have any in their bones. They only like to live in their shadows, and they follow the shadows like sheep....
By Marcellus 2022-03-28 09:01:11
What does it mean to make a movie in real, I was shocked and speechless. Watching the New Year's Eve for 8 hours is...
By Kiley 2022-03-28 09:01:11
After reading it, I don't want to talk, it's like a nightmare lingering in my...
Narrator: Then he was lying on the bed, trying to get the nightgown off his wife. But she started to yell, he jumped after her, the nightgown was torn. She turned towards him and laughed, and the nipples on her enormous breasts were like two beautiful roses.
Horgos Sanyi: You've never seen fog before or what?
Irimiás: I am in a state of deep emotion. As you can imagine, I am totally confused. I am bewildered and shocked. Yet I must pull myself together. Though right now all I can say is that I share in this broken-hearted mother's misery. In a mother's never-ending mourning and sorrow. In the grief of losing the one who is dearest to our hearts. This tragic event weighs us all down with sadness. I don't think there's anyone who would disagree with me. And now the hardest thing is, in this sadness with our teeth clenched, to get our minds over the heartbreak, to defy our tears when our voices fail us. For, and I would like to call your attention to this, nothing can be more important than for us to reconstruct the shocking events which led to the terrible death of an innocent child... before the police start investigating. You'd better expect that the inspectors from town will try to make us primarily responsible for this awful event. Yes, my friends, they're going to blame us. Because, to be quite honest... with a little caution, care and attention, we could have prevented it. Just imagine this vulnerable creature wandering all night long in the pouring rain, at the mercy of the first passer-by, of the first tramp, of anybody. She was whipped by the wind all night, she fell easy prey to the elements. She must have been around here, wandering here all the time. She may have looked in through this window and saw that you were all drunk and dancing around. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to accuse anyone personally. I am not accusing the mother, who is never going to forgive herself for getting up too late in the morning of that awful day. I am not accusing the victim's brother, nor any other members of the family. So I am not accusing anyone. But let me ask you the question, aren't we all guilty? You will, of course, answer that we are innocent. But then, what do we call this poor child? The victim of the innocent? The martyr of the faultless? The slaughtered of the sinless? I'd rather call her innocent. I spent the night turning in my bed till I realised this. Not only do we not know how the tragic event happened, but we don't really even know what exactly happened. I am quite convinced that this event was fated to happen. Now you also seem to suspect that. It is not enough, however, to suspect something. Things are to be understood and said without delay. It had been quite clear for you before coming here, but you were too afraid to say that this yard was ruled by misfortune. You didn't dare talk about it. Now you may rightly suppose an irrevocable judgment is coming soon. You are slouching around in this decay, far away from everything that means life. Your plans come to nothing, your dreams, still blind, are shattered. You expect some miracle which will never come. But what kind of misfortune are you the victims of? Is it the crumbling plaster, the roofs without tiles, the crumbling walls, the sour taste our friend Futaki keeps talking about? Isn't it the shattered prospects, and broken dreams, that bend our knees and wear us numb? Don't be surprised that I speak harshly, but let us be honest. If you felt the yard was ruled by misfortune, why didn't you try to do something about it? You thought a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. But this is a coward's way. It is disgraceful and careless and it has serious consequences. This is called impotence, sinful impotence. This is weakness, sinful weakness. This is cowardice, sinful cowardice. Because, and bear this in mind, it's not just to others that we can do unforgivable things, but also to ourselves. And this, my friends, is even more serious. Yes, when you think about it, all kinds of vileness are sins against ourselves. And you know, my friends, if I think back and see you lying half-dead on the chairs and tables, on top of each other, dribbling, exhausted, my heart sinks and I cannot judge you, for I will never be able to forget this. From your panting, snoring and groaning, I heard your cry for help which I have to answer. We know each other well. I have been keeping my eyes wide-open for decades everywhere. I bitterly observe that, under the thick veil of trickery and deception, nothing has changed. Misery has remained misery. The two extra spoonfuls of food we can have only makes the air thinner in front of our mouths. But I realised what I have done so far is nothing. A much deeper solution is needed. So, using the opportunity, I decided... to get some people together and set up a model farm, which will ensure a stable living, and bind this tiny group of the dispossessed together. I am creating an island where no one is powerless, where everyone will live in peace, and will feel safe as human beings. That is why I left for the manor in Almás. The main building is in good condition, the rental agreement is a simple matter. There's just one problem... no use in trying to keep it a secret from you... the money. Without a penny, the whole thing is dead. Capital is needed for production, but this is a bit complicated. There's no point in going into details. And you'll understand that the circumstances of our meeting made me feel uncertain, whether you would be able to do it. Whether you would be able to offer the little money, the result of your extra hard work and much hardship, to hand over for a hasty idea. Think about it. Calm your thoughts. Do not decide straight away. But if fate decides that from now on we stay together, inseparable, do remember the price that has been paid. Do not forget the child... who may have had to perish for the very reason so our star could finally rise. Who knows, my friends? All we know for certain is... that life is very hard on us.
