Sátántangó - Le Tango de Satan

The dance with the devil based on novelist László Krasznahorkai's novel about the aftermath of the fall of communism for sure has to rank very high up when it gets to unconventional motion pictures. Filmed in beautiful black and white by Hungarian director Béla Tarr in the early Nineties, the movie consists of twelve parts and lasts seven and a half hours with single tracking shots up to ten minutes, often with very little or only repetitive action on screen. And it rains and rains and rains. Make no mistake: Despite its length Satantango is not an epic narration, but rather achieves long lasting impressions by pointing the camera on banalities inspired by the bleakness of the scenery, perfectly enhanced by the director's choices what to show and how to show it in order to induce a trance-like reaction in the viewer. And while doing so Satantango mesmerizes, shocks, devastates, enthralls.

The time line is a bit unclear and episodes overlap or could have happened the same way at another time. Yet there is a main thread of story about a con-man in the messiah's disguise, a seemingly eternally lasting dance in the very middle, and an essential episode about a little girl representing the core of the film - a symbol of the disillusionment and victim of betrayal, desperately searching for ways to exert some power herself in her forlorn reality. Not that much is happening in Satantango, and some things remain vague, but reality is also transcended at key points adding to the allegorical impact. The aesthetics of the experience and its ultimate conclusion will remain with those who are open for it.

I saw SATANTANGO about ten years ago. At that time, I found it impressive, but quite an ordeal to sit through. But then, years later, I realized I kept thinking back to the images and rhythms of this film. It grows. I also saw other very long movies with very long takes, like TAIGA by Ulrike Ottinger (8 hours) and FROST by Tarr's student Fred Kelemen (4 hours); they didn't work. SATANTANGO stayed with me, like two other films by Tarr, DAMNATION and WERCKMEISTER HARMONIES. Today I consider it as one of the greatest movie experiences I ever had. I do not know how Tarr pulls this off; his most effective takes often seem simple and straightforward. It must be magic. By the way, Gus Van Sant's ELEPHANT uses similar techniques at times (long shots of people walking), and Van Sant acknowledged Tarr's influence.

I was mesmerized by this 7-hour long 1994 Hungarian film called "Satantango." Filmed entirely in black and white, director Bela Tarr has created some of the most stunning images I've seen on film. The opening shot, about 10 minutes long, is an enormous tracking shot following a herd of cows wandering through an otherwise desolate village. Then there's this 10-minute take of a window at dawn. Everything but the window is dark, then ever so slowly morning light brings the objects in the room into view, a character finally enters, peers out the window, then goes back to bed. There's a 5-minute tracking shot of two characters hurrying down the street in a horrendous wind while a veritable tornado of garbage and litter whirls about them. There's a stark, almost surreal woods strewn with fog. No take is less than a minute long, and there are about a dozen around 10 minutes. The average edited shot in a Hollywood film is less than 10 seconds. It's almost mind-boggling the logistical and practical difficulties of sustaining such long takes. In a great many, Tarr utilizes extensive camera movement. The camera tracks and weaves and gives you a sense of space found in few other films -- maybe those of a Welles, Ophuls, or Kubrick. The dance in the middle of the film from which the film takes its title is shown in one 10-minute take. It cuts away to a little girl watching the dance for a few minutes, then cuts back to the dance for another 10-minute take. And nothing about this sequence is boring. The eight actors in the scene carry on heartily. Another inspired shot has the camera revolving around seven sleeping characters while a narrator describes the dreams of each.

The story concerns a group of poor villagers who gets conned by a smart talker who was once one of their own into giving up all their money to go live on a non-existent communal farm. The first 4-1/2 hours is made up of 5 "stories" from the perspective of different characters over the course of the same day. Some of the events in each story overlap, so you see them occur again and again, but each time from a different perspective since they occur in the context of a different character's life. It is not unlike what Tarantino does with a segment in "Jackie Brown," but whereas Tarantino's technique is tiresome because it is plot-related, Tarr's is a grand achievement in tone.

The first story shows us Futaki, who while having an affair with Mrs. Schmid, finds out that her husband is planning to make off with the money that eight villagers have come into through one of conman Irimias's schemes. Then they both discover Irimias, who was thought to be dead, has returned to their village. The second story follows Irimias and his trying to evade trouble with the law. The third shows us a doctor who observes the other villagers and who writes down everything he experiences in journals that he keeps. The fourth has a young girl taking out her miseries in life on a cat and contemplates suicide. The fifth shows all the pertinent villagers gather together at a bar and drinking and dancing until they are all in a drunken stupor.

Satantango is one of the grand achievements in cinema of this decade.

I saw this film at a Bela Taar festival and I remember it having 3 or 4 breaks because it was so long. But it was worth it. I am constantly remembering the images from this piece, I don´t even remember the exact story, but the images, the sequences, were just lovely. If you ever have a chance to see this film projected, take it. Don´t worry if you can´t sit through the whole thing, just see some of it, you won´t forget it. Marvelous long takes, wonderful characters. That first scene with the tracking shot of the cows and the two guys walking down the street with the garbage blowing in the wind around them. Wonderful black and white film. I advise all cat lovers to stay away. Bela Taar is one of the best.

Although the inspiration is clear, there is no film quite like Sátántangó. Building on the vision and style of Andrei Tarkovsky, in this film, Tarr attempts to create a completely different experience of cinematic time. The best way of illustrating this is with this fact: the average time between cuts in a typical Hollywood film is 2.5 seconds, the average time between cuts in this film is 2.5 minutes. The shots are complex, they travel through landscapes, they track along buildings, they typically settle on closed doors or zoom into characters' backs. The screen often becomes filled with blackness; the viewer is like a curious child waiting for movement, waiting for the opportunity to see again. Until, eventually, he is able to see again, and he is grateful for the return of his vision. With each shot, the film is redefining and developing the viewer's perception of cinematic time and space.

If it seems I'm focusing too much on how the film is composed as opposed to what the film is about, there's a reason for that: it's not so easy to discern exactly what the plot of the film is. It's set in a Hungarian village. The villagers have acquired money and are considering betraying one another. There is a mysterious prodigal son, who has a preternatural hold over the villagers and manipulates them seemingly at his will. Police officers are involved and there is a potential spy-element taking place within the narrative but, essentially, the plot is secondary to the way in which the film represents sheer experience. The experience of the life of various villagers is presented unedited, unfiltered. There are long scenes involving a disturbed, neglected child and her abused cat; there's a drunken, reclusive doctor; there are drunken villages dancing an inebriated, tortured tango.

The film, for all of its representation of everyday experience, never feels like a documentary or even cinema verité. There's a jagged quality to the film, something foreboding and nightmarish. It feels constantly unsettling and is captivating as a result. The way in which the film blends the quotidian and the surreal is utterly unique. Yes, once again, it is clearly inspired by Tarkovsky's work, but the film takes this in a new direction, a direction which seeks to blend artifice and experience to the point where the gap between the two becomes indiscernible.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that it's 7-hours long...