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Werckmeister Harmonies

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4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(1)
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1 star:		(3)

 

 

The relative calm and complacency of the citizens of a depressed village is disturbed when a circus rolls into town, bearing the enormous carcass of a whale and a mysterious (and unseen) man titled "the Prince." A young man, an idealist, observes the tragedy that arises when the hopeless residents of his village are stirred into action by this anarchistic "Prince". The violence is quelled by the army, and the young man is forced to flee the village, having been implicated without cause in the horrific events.

The plot is something of a mystery, and feels more like an allegory than a depiction of real events. Better, since Bela Tarr himself denies that his films are allegorical or symbolic, it feels like a depiction of events that do not take place in this world but in a parallel universe that is similar enough to this world as to resonate and to suggest themes of universal import about the human condition.

It is a wonderful thing that the films of Bela Tarr are finally being released on dvd, since so far they have only been screened at festivals and special venues. I had been lucky enough to catch Damnation at an arthouse theater in London when I happened to be there on vacation. Of his other films, most notably the epic Satantango (also soon to be released on dvd!) and Werckmeister Harmonies, I had only had the chance to read several rave reviews.

I just saw this one last night and was stunned. The film contains two of the most amazing scenes I have ever encountered in the cinema. The first is the opening scene, in which the drunk patrons of a bar become momentarily a microcosm of the universe, and present a kind of "moving image of eternity" that conveys the possibility of hope and transcendence in a dark cosmos. One might say the remainder of the film works to create a darkness that compares to the eclipse this scene depicts as passing, and to force the question whether the hope this first scene describes is merely the product of a naive and idealistic imagination. The other scene comes in the midst of a horrific and violent act of destruction, that is nevertheless cut short and transformed to a kind of reverence in response to a simple and profound vision of human fragility. It is an astonishing moment, that could only be invented and captured by a master filmmaker. My only complaint is that dvd is not the ideal format for this film, as it really should be seen in a darkened room on a vast screen, on which the light and shadow that are so carefully articulated in this film could play out in their full glory.

There are only a few directors whose films have required the audience to work along with the filmmaker in coming to an understanding of the topic at hand. Tarkovsky comes to mind immediately - but there have been others. No contemporary cinematic auteur belongs more in this category that Hungarian director Béla Tarr. His films are things of great beauty: the long, painstakingly designed and executed shots; the naturalism of the actors, giving the audience the feeling that they are witnessing unrehearsed reality; the convoluted, non-linear storytelling - all of these elements and more combine into a cinematic vision that is intrinsically unique and at the same time universal in the way it touches the viewer. Tarr is pretty tight-lipped about the `aim' of his work, but he has indicated that involvement of the audience is one goal. As strange as some of the images in his films might seem, Tarr eschews the term `surrealism' - he counters that the camera can only capture what is real.

WERCKMEISTER HARMÓNIÁK (WERCKMEISTER HARMONIES) is Tarr's latest work, released in 2000. The title refers to a theory of musical harmonic relationships developed by 17th century German music scholar Andreas Werckmeister. Cosmic harmony and disharmony are important themes in Tarr's film, which begins in a shabby bar in a provincial Hungarian town - one of the locals, János, is attempting to explain a total eclipse of the sun to a number of intoxicated men. He selects a man to represent the sun, then another for the earth, and a third for the moon. Setting them is motion in a barroom ballet that is both humorous and imbued with a sweet grace, he explains the planetary movements to them in terms of both strict science and universal harmony. This first scene is comprised of a single shot, the longest in the film at 11 minutes in length - it's beautiful to behold.

One of János's acquaintances is György Eszter, a music professor who is out to disprove Werckmeister's theories. János goes to check on him in the night and finds the elderly man asleep in his chair - he helps him dress for bed, tucks him in, and makes sure that the heat is working properly before going on his way. This scene is another single shot - 6 ½ minutes. The camera, from inside the house, picks up János as he arrives in the yard, watches through a window as he makes his way to a door, then turns to show the movements of the two actors through the rest of the scene. Nothing is compressed - everything occurs as seen, giving the viewer a rich sensation of experiencing what is being played out on the screen, deepening both the emotional and intellectual impact.

A travelling exhibition has come to town overnight - its only two components the body of a giant whale and a diminutive character known as `The Prince', whose theories and orations have incited violence and anarchy in other towns. When János goes to see the whale, he is visibly shaken by the experience of being so close to the great beast - he sees it as irrefutable proof of `God's imagination'. He attempts to convey his feelings to others as the film progresses - no one seems to understand how deeply it has moved him.

He overhears a conversation between the Director of the exhibition and a man who is a translator for the Prince. The Director is fed up with the increasing demands of the Prince - and fearful of the violence the little man seems to inspire. The Prince launches into a tirade decrying all aspects of what most consider to be civilization: `Under construction, everything is only half complete. In ruins, all is complete.' The Director knows what violence the Prince can inspire - he informs the Prince that he will have no more part of him, that he will not be responsible for unleashing `bandits and thieves' on the population.

After János leaves, the mood of the crowd becomes violent. The camera follows them, hovering just above head level, looking into their determined faces as they march toward some unknown target. This shot of the advancing mob is all the more disquieting for its silence: they advance resolutely toward their goal, the only sound their footsteps on the pavements. This take is married to an even longer shot depicting them reaching their destination - the local hospital - and the ensuing mayhem. Disturbingly, the silence continues, intensifying the impact of their violence. The camera follows them from room to room, pulling patients from their beds and beating them - their victims do not even cry out. The soundlessness of the destruction has the effect of magnifying the horror.

János sees the aftermath of the mob's work - and he is visibly and understandably traumatized by it. The viewer can almost feel the thoughts and emotions racing through his mind as he attempts to comprehend what he has witnessed.

Through his long takes (there are only 39 shots in the entire 2h25m film), planned and choreographed with such precision and care, Tarr compels the audience's attention to linger on the characters as well as on the entire mise-en-scène - allowing all aspects of the film to permeate conscious and subconscious of the viewer. The actors he has chosen masterfully convey the emotion and thought processes of the characters they portray. The sparse, strangely beautiful music is a perfectly utilized element, and the rich black-and-white cinematography adds greatly to the atmosphere.

This is the third film on which Tarr has worked with writer László Krashnahorkai, the previous two being 1988's KÁRHOZAT (DAMNATION) and his 1994 magnum opus, the 7h15m SÁTÁNTANGÓ. Other members of the team include Ágnes Hranitzsky (Tarr's life partner and editor), cinematographer Gábor Midvigy, and composer Míhaly Vig. Everything about his work comes together to truly make the whole greater than the sum of the parts - it has to be experienced for the true impact to come across. This is vital, visonary cinema.

The film is based on the novel "The Melancholy of Resistance" by László Krasznahorkai. This story takes place in a small Hungarian provincial town in mid-winter. The event that starts to build up the atmosphere of suspicion and unrest is the arrival to town of a circus consisting of only one giant lorry containing a huge, maybe the largest in the world stuffed whale and a mysterious figure who is called the Prince, s never seen except as a shadow on a wall and who possesses the sinister powers of making people act like a mob. The circus is a challenge to the citizens to understand what its place in their small and familiar universe is. They see the circus as the dark shadow of the moon during the total eclipse that "grows bigger... and bigger. And as it covers more and more, slowly only a narrow crescent of the sun remains, a dazzling crescent. And at the next moment, the next moment - say that it's around one in the afternoon - a most dramatic turn of event occurs. At that moment the air suddenly turns cold. Can you feel it? The sky darkens, then goes all dark. The dogs howl, rabbits hunch down, the deer run in panic, run, stampede in fright. And in this awful, incomprehensible dusk, even the birds... the birds too are confused and go to roost. And then... Complete Silence. Everything that lives is still. Are the hills going to march off? Will heaven fall upon us? Will the Earth open under us? We don't know. We don't know, for a total eclipse has come upon us..." When there is a failure to understand, the fear may cause the descent into cruel and senseless violence and turn the decent people in the merciless monsters.

As a director, Bela Tarr is extraordinary. A lot has been said about his camera work and long single take shots. His usage of only two colors - black and white is stunning, his sound works perfectly with the images adding to the building of the unbearable tension. His three main characters are played by the German actors Lars Rudolph, Peter Fitz, and Hanna Schygulla - the Fassbinder favorite actress, the star of his 23 films. Casting Lars Rudolf as a protagonist, the young man whose journey throughout the winter night on the streets of the town we follow step by step contributes to the movie's success. Rudolph looks like a cross between Prince Myshkin and a Rock Star, and he is actually Frontman of the group Stan Red Fox. Judging by the movie's ending, the comparison with Myshkin will sadly make sense, too. It will also bring to memory the final words of Anton Chekhov's "Ward #6" - "The whole world is Ward #6". You know, I would not say that everyone should run and find the film and watch it. I understand that it is not easy watching, it does require an active participation but I found it extremity rewarding because it introduced me to the master with the unique style, obvious talent and the interest to the eternal and difficult questions that may not have easy and immediate answers.

I am skeptical when critics announce every new interesting Eastern European director "New Tarkovsky" but I should say Tarr is the closest to him I've seen so far. The plot and the story were a little too easy and too obvious for me to follow but Tarr's ability to create an unbearable tension and atmosphere without any special tricks is amazing.

"Werckmeister Harmonies" is a masterpiece of melancholic resistance. I was resistant to it first, but then, its melancholy overwhelmed me.

I have seen this Bela Tarr masterpiece 3 times and it is by far the best and most beautiful film I have ever seen. Watching this movie is not really watching a movie, it's a magical experience, I guarantee you will never see anything else like it in your whole life. Trying to describe it is really useless, its pure magic. Buy this! It changed my life to realize it something this beautiful exists in the world. I'm serious. It is based on the Hungarian book the Melancholy of Resistance, which I am going to read as soon as possible. Tarr was one of the late Susan Sontag's favorite directors; her favorite of his were Santantango and Damnation. The only other Tarr film I have seen is Almanac of Fall and it is surreal and beautiful. But this film is both of those taken to amazing heights of sublimity. Sit back and enjoy!

The main character of this film, Janos, is a young man whose purpose, leading a solitary life, is to serve as the connector for the isolated village in which he and the rest of the cast live. In this context, "connector" means the one who insures there is constant communication among all the various inhabitants.

I think it helps to view this film from the perspective of communication. Janos' function is essentially destroyed when a "circus" comes to the village, which consists of a huge dead whale, entombed in an equally huge trailer-truck, an impresario whose sole focus is making money, a "barker" who does nothing but collect money to see the whale, and the "Prince" which appears to be an obvious metaphor for the Devil (Prince of Darkness), with the whale representing the Devil's works, as it were--that is, the expression or manifestation of evil.

Evil does ensue as, shortly after the appearance of the "circus", villagers go on a rampage, smashing up stuff in the local hospital and pulling the patients out of their beds and beating them. The last patient they encounter, a naked frail old man, stems the tide and they shuffle off, returning to their previous lives.

Janos' communication function is shown almost right from the start as he arranges a few drunks in the local tavern in a human equivalent of part of the solar system--earth, moon, sun--moon revolving around earth, earth around sun. What is the purpose of this? Viewed in the context of the film, the only purpose can be, again, to demonstrate Janos' obsessive need to communicate.

The title of the film derives from the mouthings of another character, Estzer, an older highly educated composer whose bitterness comes from, among other things, divorce from his wife Tunde. His essentially meaningless metaphysical spoutings allude to the composer Werckmeister who composed music based on a set of 12 harmonic tones, or some such. The obvious irony of the title in the context of the primary event of the film, the march on the hospital, is heightened even further by the strikingly downbeat ending which will not be revealed here, but which definitely leaves the chin on the sidewalk.

The potential buyer of this DVD should note that there is an entire sequence in this film, in which Tunde is speaking with Janos, where the subtitles--in white text--are superimposed over a white tablecloth. This is absolutely infuriating; the subtitles are virtually impossible to read. A question put regarding this problem to the DVD distributor, Facets Video, resulted in no answer at all. This sequence goes on for about four minutes and is, needless to say, extremely frustrating. There is another shorter sequence in which Estzer speaks with Janos where the white subtitles are also superimposed over a white background. This is a serious caveat that should be addressed by the DVD's distributor; the obvious solution to this issue is to release a new edition with yellow subtitles instead of white, or to put the subtitles in the lower black space under a widescreen image.

If it were not for these two instances of impossible-to-read subtitles (unless you speak Hungarian, you will be, I am sure, as frustrated as I was), I would have given this five stars.

The film is in black-and-white, and is a startlingly powerful piece of cinema. The sight of the hordes of villagers (how big is this village anyway? Or are these men--and they are all men--from more than one village?) marching, row upon row, down the village streets, is more chilling than any big budget Hollywood horror movie. The irony of the film's title is shown here as well; the hordes march in a completely uniform pattern, echoing the "harmonies" in the title. Equally chilling is the vision of these same villagers, prior to their march, out in the village "square" as the camera moves, as Janos does, from one clump of them to another. In these scenes, Janos is hard put to know how to perform his primary function of communicator because it's obvious that these men, by this time, are way past the ability to communicate.

It's not hard to draw all kinds of symbolist interpretations of the film. My admittedly glib interpretation above of the Devil and evil is certainly one, but others may include the intrusion of the chaos of the 21st century into a backwards, timelocked culture, for example. Viewers will no doubt have a field day with the potential plethora of interpretive perspectives. Regardless, this is a brilliant film that should not be missed. If you can somehow overlook or bypass or get around the two sequences with the unreadable subtitles, you will find something unique, breathtaking, and seriously disturbing.

Parallels to Fellini are justified, but Tarr is like the negative image of Fellini. The few moments of sensuousness in Werckmeister Harmonies are quickly supplanted by the overriding bleakness of atmosphere that dominates the film. Very highly recommended. It will be interesting to see what Tarr does with his unique voice applied to a novel by Georges Simenon, The Man From London--his next film.

This film actually reminds me of La Dolca Vita (which also has a scene with a mysterious sea creature) and other Fellini films which ponder man's mostly fruitless quest for meaning. Actually one could sum up many European films in this way. Whats maybe a little bit different about this film is that it ponders man's quest for meaning, his failure to find any, and his resultant frustration in a very cold and barren central European setting (which is going to lead many active minded interpreters to read the landscape as symbolic of spiritual emptiness/despair as well as political emptiness/despair etc...). We have everything in this film that we find in La Dolca Vita except that civilization's discontents are not the very rich in Rome but the very poor in a bombed out and forsaken (so forsaken it is left nameless) Central Europe. As in La Dolca Vita we have extended meditations on why thought/philosophy/religion/art are no longer the refuges they once were but simply places where man self-consciously entertains himself with grand illusions and in the absence of any spiritual weight comforts himself with a sort of austere formalism that gives him the illusion that he has metaphysical weight when in fact he has none at all. There is, however, a nice plot twist in this film which recalls Bergman's Persona. When we first see the elderly artist/thinker he appears to be nearing the end of his life but by films end he seems to be re-invigorated (saved from his own internal paralysis by something external perhaps) by the cathartic activity that has swept through the village. On the other hand the youngish (and perhaps naive) helper who began the film in such a vital state experiences a reverse trajectory and, after exposure to the towns capacity for sudden, extreme, and inexplicable fits of violence, ends the film in a state of psychic paralysis.

Best scene of the film: When we hear the unseen Prince's voice and see the shadow of the Prince's talking head cast on the wall by lamplight. Though the film purposely resists the idea that there is any one explanation for anything, one of the likely explanations for the town's sudden violence is the ability of the Prince to incite riots. We never really know what kinds of things the Prince says to the crowds that come to see him but we gather that he is a kind of Mabusian (as in Lang's Dr. Mabuse) hypnotist/nihilist/anarchist who enjoys exploiting the crowds metaphysical nausea and giving them momentary targets on which to focus their rage. Though we never see the Prince this brief glimpse of his shadow comes at the perfect moment (and perhaps suggests that all men are just as attracted to dark forces and destruction as they are to light and creation). Many of the scenes in this film are long and many are virtually silent and need to be to convey the great emptiness at the heart of existence--this films essential theme. This Mabusian touch is maybe a nod to film history as well as a kind of acknowledgement that film has an immense capacity to entertain. Theres nothing like a live villain to relieve the endlessness of metaphysical ennui (I think the mob waiting in the cold for God or the devil would agree). If this scene is some kind of concession, its a welcome one. The film would work without it (and some might argue be better without it) but I found it to be the most enjoyable/frightening/amusing thing in the film.

Very curious to see more of this directors work.

This is an astounding film, one that should be watched as many times as you can manage, because you will see something new and beautiful in it. Tarr is one of the only filmmakers that shoots his films in long takes exclusively. While many filmmakers (Tarkovsky, Kubrick, Sokurov) would shoot long takes, there would be several short takes to offset them. Tarr's later day films don't do that. This film has only 39 cuts in the entire film (in a running time of 145 minutes). It gives a steady dirge like atmosphere, leading up to a finale that is brilliant as it is devastating. It took Tarr years before he finished this film (due to financial difficulties), but you wouldn't know it. The final film is absolutely seamless. I've seen Tarr's The Outsider, The Prefab People, Damnation, his "Visions of Europe" segment, and the magnum opus, Satantango. This film is a worthy addition to his legacy. This and Satantango are Tarr's best films. It's a remarkable piece of work....

10/10 masterpiece film, long message, with some musical jargon...

Werckmeister's well-temperament (different from equal-temperament) was borne of a process Werckmeister used to alter meantone temperament.

To be brief, Werckmeister modified meantone temperament (and Tarr was using the temperament as a metaphor...) to preserve as much of its harmoniousness (metaphor...) in the commonly used natural keys as possible.

This enabled musicians to avoid using quasi-equal temperaments (metaphor...), because quasi-equal temperaments destroyed (metaphor...) the harmoniousness of the commonly used natural keys.

Werckmeister's well-temperament was a musical philosophy that, when implemented, enabled an appealing and refreshing tapestry of colour changes during modulations. The variety of changes, combined with the harmoniousness of tonalities, made well-temperament more advantageous and popular than equal temperament.

Many of these well-temperaments, which are also called circular temperaments, provide rich palettes of thirds that range from pure to full syntonic comma, meaning, from your basic pure appealing, symmetrical sound to an ebullitional, emotional equilibrium.

I said that the uncle's assertions were proven by life's own default, because life is dualistically harmonious and unharmonious, life detunes that piano, detunes that harmony, detunes that temperaments, etc, and life also tunes that piano, bursts forth with harmony, creates colourful, refreshing, indiviudal, and unique temperaments.

The theory which is technically disproven when it is applied to society and life as a whole, not just musical notes.

Soviet Communism in Hungary detuned the Werckmeister Harmony of the lives of the characters, and, ironically, the fall of Soviet Communism detuned the shadow of the Werckmeister Harmony of the lives of the characters.

Soviet Communism itself was presented as a Werckmeister well-tempered harmony, but the facade of its harmony was clearly false, Tarr through Gyorgy was metaphorically articulating that the government was propagating a false harmony, that people live their lives as a false harmony, that Werckmeister's harmonies acted as a false harmony to a mask unsavory tonal imperfections that always exist and threaten to destroy true harmony.

Werckmeister's harmonies were an allegory for the failure of East European Communism, for the evolution and propagation of corrupted "pure" ideas that are based on flawed premises (you can never hide and ignore bad sounds with advanced modulation techniques, you can never suppress and ignore all protestors who want to overthrow repressive governments, you can never suppress and ignore all the bad things in this world), and an allegory for blindly believing in the false ideals that ultimately destroy harmony and generate repression, cruelty, intolerance, cultural isolation, spiritual desolation, etc, etc.

The uncle's viewpoint was proven by his own discontent with the harmonies and by life itself, what happens in life proves his viewpoint because life is not one perfect, flawless, circular harmony. His discontent and emotional weariness and Janos' confusion and the traveling circus show (which disrupted the "harmony" of the village) and the effects of Soviet Communism in Hungary were all de facto proofs of the uncle's perspective. His viewpoint was, ironically, a direct result of the "Harmonies" themselves: perfect harmonious content breeds boredom and emotional emptiness and disconent.

Janos' emotional breakdown, the prince's tirade, the children banging out harsh sounds, the overall bleak desolation of the town, are all flaws in Werckmeister's theory.

The theory of Werckmeister's well-tempered harmonies was equivocated to following a false path to achieve harmony and enlightenment and existential purpose, and, again, the theory which is technically disproven when it is applied to society and life as a whole, not just musical notes.

************

The primary theme is the contrast between natural order and man-made order. This is discussed directly by the uncle who is distraught over the sacrifice of the natural scales to the Werckmeister Scales. In the man-made Werckmeister solution, the purer natural harmonies are sacrificed for a broader musical range. This is the downside of a man-made order. In the opening scene, Janos demonstrates a disturbing but temporary dark moment (an eclipse) that emerges from a natural order (de Revolutionibus). The opposing options are set up.

Relate this to recent Hungarian history where there were two significant political occurences. The first being the rise of Hitler. We can be pretty certain that the Prince is an easy stand in. This is also the eclipse, the temporary dark moment resulting from the natural tides of hate, opinion, and all the rest of our god-awfulness. The second major influence is the rise of Communism, which may be the darker of the two. This is the imposition of the Werckmeister Harmony, a disruption of the natural order to broaden the extension of music. Here, I assume the Aunty is the stand in for Stalin and his ilk. Hungary was ripped apart, first by Hitler, then by being subjugated to Communism, and this was a country with a long and proud history (and I don't mean that as a throwaway line, check it out, you'll be amazed by what the West ignores). During the past 50 years, it had been isolated, abandoned, and forgotten by the world. You see that mood aptly reflected through the movie.

In any case, the remaining figure is the Whale, which, while probably not G-d himself, reflects G-d's imagination, or, in an atheistic turn, the vastness of the natural order. If there is something to be known about Janos, it is his tendency to stand mouth agape and the wonder of natural order. This is established beautifully in the opening scene, further established in his first encounter with the whale, poigniantly counteracted when he is denied access to the whale by the mob, and puts him in the asylum when he sees the whale abandoned and desecrated at the end of the film.

The eclipse illustrates the tendency of humankind to lapse into brief, artificial periods of madness and hysteria. But these are always fleeting.

János appears to be permanently scarred by the trauma. He does not emerge from the eclipse like the rest of the town. He sinks into a profound and (seemingly) endless oblivion.

Even though the "even-tempered tuning" is seriously flawed as the professor dictates, there is no resolution. In fact, over the last 300 years, humankind has managed to force music to conform to the Werckmeister scale. We now have digital MIDI instruments which conform to Werckmeister's (flawed) frequencies. We seem to have forsaken the instruments which use the "natural scale" in favour of instruments which have frets, keys and even-tempered resonance. (Aside: the only instruments which still have the capability of playing the natural scale are the string family--violin, viola, cello, double bass--and a few brass horns. But even these instruments are forced to tune to the flawed piano.)

These two points seem to conflict with the idea that "the natural order will prevail." Perhaps, in an oblique way, Tarr is telling us that the eclipse does not always recede. Humankind's will is more powerful and destructive than nature's.

I love this movie. I always wished that it would be released on video in shlocky packaging and re-titled "Circus of Doom," so people who wanted to rent a horror/thriller movie would instead get to watch a really weird, beautiful Hungarian allegory about the limits and consequences of enlightenment values. I'd like to think the movie is so powerful that they could bring whatever expectations they wanted to it and still be affected by it. Who knows?
Anyway, the plot of this movie concerns what happens when a mysterious side show of sorts comes to a desolate European town. No exact time or place is identified, and as I mentioned, the movie can be intellectualized and interpreted as entirely allegorical. But it's not dry; the mysterious story and eccentric characters are fascinating, the long-take camera shots are hypnotic in their beauty, and the score is one of my very very favorites (and I've heard a lot of movie scores). However, be warned: as someone once told me, as you watch Werckmeister Harmonies, you will feel the weight of time itself crushing you. This is all a part of the effect and meaning of the film. If you think you can get into it, if you like your movies slow, rich, and possibly devastating, you won't be bored. But this is a singular film, and isn't for everyone. Think of it as Circus of Doom, maybe it will help. Good luck!

Seldom do filmmakers come along who have such a unique vision you get the sense they really don't care what the audience thinks of their work. They make films merely for themselves. They want to see their vision on-screen. If you don't like it, too bad, if you do, great. But in the end, it really doesn't matter. Hungarian filmmaker Bela Tarr is one of those directors and "Werckmeister harmoniak" is one of those type of films.

Tarr is one of, if not the most, uncompromising director to come out of Eastern Europe. I know recently it seems to be the trend for critics and the public alike to assert that Spanish filmmakers are doing the most exciting things in cinema right now, but I have to disagree. I think Eastern Europe has always been a bit more ahead of the times. Directors from countries such as Hungary, the Czech Republic, Romania, Serbia...ect have been doing the most interesting and experimental things in editing, story structure, and cinematography.

To be honest I'm not really sure what "Werckmeister harmoniak" is really all about. Some people suggest it is a parable about life in Eastern Europe after communism. Tarr however says this is not true. The film is not political. Many times, as odd as this may sound, authors are not the best judges of their work, but in Tarr's case I'm willing to agree. I didn't find the film political either. I feel the film is more existential. From the film's opening scene a character describes the way the earth revolves around the sun. In short he is giving a scientific answer to what makes the world go round. And much of the film's dialogue is based on scientific notions. If you want to be cruel (or funny) you could say the film is one big Hungarian science project.

When dealing with a film such as this it is hard to describe it. Nothing really matters in the film. It is not important we remember any character's names or their relation to each other. Films such as this are only about their ideas. What is the message of the film. What is it trying to agrue. To a lesser extent, the visuals are important also. How does Tarr get his point across visually? Everything else is Tarr merely working within the conventions of cinema while still trying to break down the walls.

The plot goes something like this; a circus comes to a small town in Hungary, where the main attraction is a giant whale and a freak. The people from the village revolt, except the main character, who find the sight of the whale a sign of God's creative brillance. But outsiders come to the village and find themselves in a trance state of mind. The film tries to blend science and religion.

Is there an audience for a film such as this? I suppose so. Those who admire Tarr's previous films may find elements to enjoy here but for the causal viewer, "Werckmeister harmoniak" will prove to be a challenge to sit through. But for those who have enjoyed "Damnation" or "Satan's Tango" this film takes a similar approach in style. The long takes, use of silence, minimal camera movement...ect.

If I'm a little apprehensive about giving this film more credits it has to do witht he film's lenght, a little over two hours and the fact the film is hard to pin down. I'm all for films challenging the audience, making them think. Several directors such as Tarkovsky, Bergman and Antonioni ranks among my favorites but "Werckmeister harmoniak" simply didn't compell me at the same level. I wasn't involved. Of course you could agrue, Tarr doesn't care (and I'm sure he doesn't), we aren't suppose to be engaged. This is true, but, basic human emotions of wanting to connect stop me from throwing more praise at the film. I admire Tarr's style and appreciate the visuals but remained a bit indifferent to this particular film.

Bottom-line: The kind of film that really doesn't give a damn if you enjoy it or not. That's half the appeal but eventually you lose interest in some elements. Tarr fans will be pleased as it is a continuation of his style but not as pleasing as some of his other works.