Damnation

Kárhozat
a film by Béla Tarr

In a small Hungarian town lives Karrer, a listless and brooding man who has almost completely withdrawn from the world, but for an obsession with a singer in the bar he frequents. The film opens on to a view of a desolate, industrialised landscape. Overhead, giant buckets suspended from an aerial cableway journey endlessly back and forth, their cyclic movement and repetitive, mechanical sound appear to be the only signs of human activity. The camera draws slowly back revealing Karrer sitting at his window, motionless and watching. A solitary man whose life is almost completely eroded by hopelessness except for his love and desire for a beautiful, haunting singer at the Titanik Bar, a nightclub in this small, drab coal-mining town. The girl is doing her best to end their relationship, and her husband warns him to stay away from his wife. But Karrer's very existence clings to the hope that she will leave her husband for him, and yet he seems incapable of doing anything to make this, or anything else in his life, happen.

Karrer is then offered a smuggling job by Willarsky, the shady owner of a local bar, but he decides instead to offer it to Sebestyén, the girl's husband, who has built up a substantial debt and is in danger of being imprisoned for it. Sebestyén's acceptance means that Karrer and the girl can spend a few days alone together. The girl too is desperate for change in her life and wants to leave for the city to become a famous singer. Certainly she doesn't see Karrer's advances as an answer to her dreams, but eventually she agrees to sleep with him during the husband's absence. A bitter Karrer then decides he will turn in to the authorities her husband when he returns from his smuggling job, leaving her alone and thus making him now the logical option. By the end of the story, the lives of the characters will be as broken and desolate as the crumbling town in which they live. Yet, as they wander aimlessly about in a purgatory from which there is no escape, we see that their hopelessness only really comes from inside the individual.

The slowly gliding camera seems almost to have an agenda of its own, whilst the gritty, high contrast, deep-shadows noir imagery adds to the growing sensation of unease. This, the first film in which Hungarian auteur Béla Tarr fully realised his mesmerising and apocalyptic world view is an immaculately photographed and composed study of eternal conflict, the centuries-old struggle between barbarism and civilisation. It was his first collaboration with novelist and fellow countryman László Krasznahorkai and the second film on which he worked with Hungarian musician and composer Mihály Víg.

Werckmeister Harmonies

Werckmeister harmóniák
a film by Béla Tarr adapted from the novel The Melancholy of Resistance by László Krasznahorkai.

The population of a desolate provincial town on the Hungarian plain await the arrival of a circus that features the stuffed carcass of a whale and a mysterious Prince. Its appearance disturbs the order of the populace, unleashing a torrent of violence and beauty.

We first meet János Valuska in a bar at closing time where he choreographs three of the inebriated patrons in a ballet of the earth's orbit of the sun and the moon's orbit of the earth. At a precise point he freezes his actors to describe a total eclipse of the sun. How the world and all its creatures pause in momentary fear of the sudden cold darkness until the warmth of the sun again floods the earth. He demonstrates a disturbing but temporary dark moment that emerges from a natural order. In this scene, surprisingly profound, amusing and beautiful all at the same time, we gain a first insight into the personality of this gentle, caring and innocent character with the childlike sense of wonder.

Next we follow János as he walks through the dark streets to the house of György Eszter, a distinguished musicologist and intellectual, now elderly and infirm, whom János helps and looks after on a daily basis. György is determined to prove that the order imposed on sound by the Werckmeister Harmonies, a disruption of the natural order to broaden the musical range, is false and that only the purer natural scale is truth – a recurrent theme throughout the story, highlighting the contrast and values between a natural order and an imposed man-made order.

After helping Uncle Gyuri into bed, János then sets off to work at the sorting office. On his way there he watches the arrival into town of a tractor pulling an enormous corrugated shed inside of which is a stuffed whale, the world's largest, and the poster advertising this attraction says that a Prince accompanies the whale. But apprehension and fear are spreading through the town and already the social order is beginning to break down. With the onset of winter there is a shortage of coal; there are growing mountains of frozen rubbish everywhere; entire families mysteriously disappear. Hundreds of strangers are said to have arrived on the train because of the whale and the Prince – a mutant whose godless speeches incite hatred, violence and disharmony. Already, looting has taken place and people are now afraid to leave their homes.

At daybreak János makes his way to the market square where the circus trailer containing the whale is parked. A large crowd of men, sinister and menacing in their silence, have already gathered there, standing around the square in small groups, waiting for the appearance of the Prince. Weary and hungry, János finally returns home when Tünde Eszter arrives, threatening to move back in with György, her estranged husband, if János does not convince him to use his influence to help her start her 'clean town movement'. As the brooding threat of public disorder increases, the gathered mob mobilise and embark on a night of rioting, arson and violence, with a savage attack on the hospital resulting in the arrival of the military with tanks to restore order. János is told that it is no longer safe for him to remain in the town and he attempts his escape from the chaos which now surrounds him.

With this surreal and quite extraordinary feature, Hungarian auteur Béla Tarr finally gained international recognition as one of the most distinctive and visionary of contemporary filmmakers. Although many have seen this film as an allegory for the failure of East European Communism, for the evolution and propagation of corrupted "pure" ideas that are based on flawed premises, the director maintains that he has never made a political film. This work is much more a commentary on human nature and society's following a false path in an attempt to achieve harmony, enlightenment and existential purpose. A hypnotic, challenging and utterly compelling masterpiece also featuring a beautiful score by composer Mihály Víg.

Times & Winds

Beş Vakit
a film by Reha Erdem

Set in a remote village in a beautiful mountainous region of north-eastern Turkey, the story follows the lives of three friends on the verge of adolescence. Struggling variously with deeply felt familial rage and responsibilities, burgeoning sexuality and guilt-ridden desire, the children find themselves detached from the customs and traditions of their community and consumed by the ennui of daily village life.

Within their small, poor mountain village overlooking the sea, the people endure the harshness of nature on a day-to-day survival basis. They diligently earn their living out of the earth and from the few animals they keep. Just like the animals and trees around them, they have the knowledge of a temporary existence, and are resigned to their fate. Their lives, like those of their ancestors, follow the rhythms of the earth, air and water, of day and night and the seasons, with days divided into five parts by the call to prayer. Every day, human existence is experienced through these five time periods.

Rigidly adhering to time-honoured methods, children are raised by a practice their parents have experienced from their own upbringing. They express their love awkwardly and consider beating to be a favourable method of showing love and dispensing guidance. Childhood is difficult and a father typically has a preference for one son over the other, whilst mothers command their daughters ruthlessly. The children study in the village school consisting of only one classroom, and families express their gratitude to the teacher by giving her gifts – the bread they bake themselves, the milk of their own sheep.

Ömer, Yakup and Yıldız are three children of 12 or 13 years of age, just between childhood and adolescence. As membership of the adult world becomes imminent, an awful truth dawns for them about their status. All three earn the displeasure and disappointment of their elders and in turn become disillusioned and resentful.

Ömer is the son of the imam, who ceaselessly humiliates him by praising his younger brother and making no secret that he loves him more. Ömer conceives a passionate hatred of his father and wishes for his death. But when his wish is not granted he begins to look for ways to kill his father as a twelve-year-old boy might, sharing his guilty thoughts with his friend Yakup. Yakup is a sensitive boy who nurtures a hopeless crush on the young schoolteacher but he hides his guilty feelings even from his best friend Ömer. When one day he sees his father spying on the teacher, he dreams, like Ömer, of killing his father. Yıldız is a bright, studious girl who also does her best to manage the household responsibilities imposed on her by her mother. She attempts to be a mother for her baby brother but learns with trepidation about the secrets of the relationship between men and women, and what the general duties of womanhood are going to be.

The sensitivity of the children's reflections of their parents' maladaptive behaviour creates a bond that sustains their daily trials. Five times elapse – as the three children grow up they oscillate between rage and guilt, love and enmity.

Beş Vakit (Five Times) is a hypnotic and beautifully observed portrait of a rural society, disaffected youth and the loss of innocence. A contemplative coming-of-age story with an enigmatic, dream-like quality, poignantly reflecting on the way life's mistakes are forever repeated through the generations. Florent Herry's cinematography is exquisite and the director's use of the haunting music of Arvo Pärt perfectly expresses the underlying emotional theme of the film.