For the last decade, the name Béla Tarr has surfaced once in a while, but once spoken out, the name lingers, even though one never is closer to Tarr than the sound of his name alone. The reason may well be, that his works are largely unseen. For the longest time, Tarr has only been viewable at institutions as MoMA. Few have seen Werckmeister Harmonies, fewer have seen Sátántangó, even fewer has seen the remaining works of Tarr. Most only know of his work thru the writings of esoteric cinephiles, who praise and hail, or by commented influence upon such directors as for instance Gus van Sant. That is until now, where his films are being released on DVD, which allows not only – finally – to get to know his work, but by repeated viewings to study and appreciate it.

Based on Krasznahorkai's novel by the same name, Sátántangó tells the story of group of people in a poor Hungarian agricultural collective after the fall of Communism, and how their despair is – not changed, but – altered by the arrival of a stranger, who in turn cheats them for their money and hopes. It is divided into twelve sections, telling several stories, which, while the film is meant to be seen in one viewing, can be seen individually to be reflected upon, such as the story of the little girl, who first poisons her beloved cat, then herself.

Tarr constructs the narrative of, by J. Hoberman named, “…morose blocks of real time.” At times, the camera appears to capture nothing but time, having people and / or events just passing thru, as for instance the opening shot, where the camera slowly follows cows passing the screen. Genette said about tense, that even if no action occurs in a shot, the time devoted to a shot builds up expectation of action.

Having said, that contemporary cinema doesn’t invest the time or space needed to understand people, Tarr not only expands time beyond what narrative or tense would require, but space likewise, by tracking shots and extreme depth of field. Tarr seems to use this expectation to transpose the resignation and despair of the villagers in order to articulate the aimless desperation of the actions. Hence, even the simplest acts, as choosing to stand rather than to pull a chair and sit down, become significant, as they are action in “morose blocks of real time.”

Similar with Tarr’s use of space. The village is described as being cut off from the rest of the world by bog, mud and rain, and is visually displayed by either empty spaces or few pieces of furniture. If people weren’t present, one would be inclined to say, that the village was uninhabited – a ghost town.

While Sátántangó, due to it being in black and white, Hungarian and running 7 hours, on paper may sound like the ultimate joke about art-house cinema, it is nothing less than a mesmerizing life changing cinematic experience.

Henrik Sylow