Through a miraculous chance of fate, I managed to see Béla Tarr's final film The Turin Horse with my friend Christopher Minz at the New York City Film Festival. It was a magnificent film and a movie-going experience that I will cherish for the rest of my life (due in no small part to the fact that I got to meet and shake hands with Béla Tarr himself after the screening). The film opens with the following piece of narration:
"In Turin on 3rd January, 1889, Friedrich Nietzsche steps out of the doorway of number six, Via Carlo Albert. Not far from him, the driver of a hansom cab is having trouble with a stubborn horse. Despite all his urging, the horse refuses to move, whereupon the driver loses his patience and takes his whip to it. Nietzsche comes up to the throng and puts an end to the brutal scene, throwing his arms around the horse’s neck, sobbing. His landlord takes him home, he lies motionless and silent for two days on a divan until he mutters the obligatory last words, and lives for another ten years, silent and demented, cared for by his mother and sisters. We do not know what happened to the horse.”
The film follows the next six days in the life of the horse, its owner, and the owner's daughter. It is a meticulous reconstruction of their day-to-day routine: getting dressed, drinking two shots of liquor to help wake up, getting water from the well, eating potatoes bare-handed in the evening, undressing, going to sleep. Six times we see these actions carried out...or at least variations of them. As the days go by, it becomes increasingly obvious that something is wrong with the world. The insects in the walls disappear. A strange neighbor shows up unannounced and spouts off a bizarre Nietzsche-esque soliloquy that is equal parts koan and doom prophesy. A band of Gypsys arrive and give the daughter an "anti-bible." The well dries up. The horse stops eating. The lights outside during the day disappears. Lamps brimming with oil refuse to light. Finally, the family gives in to the blackness, the despair, the end. What is Béla Tarr trying to say with this film? When asked this question during a Q&A following the screening, he pointed to the now empty screen and answered, "It's all there." As I said, Béla Tarr announced that this was most likely going to be his last film. Again, a member of the audience asked why. My friend Christopher Minz summarized his answer the best:
"When asked why he was retiring, he said that it was because he had said what he needed to say and wants to never repeat himself, and he feels that by retiring now he is saving his body of work, even from himself."
So in the end, The Turin Horse closes and completes the body of work of one of the world's greatest living directors. On behalf of myself, of Chris, of New York City, and of every film lover who is, was, and will be...thank you Mr. Tarr. Thank you.
8/10
I never seen a Béla Tarr film but this sounds like an awesome experience! So cool that you got to meet him, thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteBéla Tarr films are difficult to watch. Tarr has stated that his films are meant to be seen in a theater in one sitting...which can be difficult considering that his masterpiece, "Sátántangó," is seven and a half hours long. They are difficult, challenging films. But if you can persevere, they are some of the most entrancing and fascinating films in modern world cinema.
ReplyDeleteThanks!