Shot by cinematographer Fred Kelemen in glorious black-and-white, Bela Tarr's "The Turin Horse" is a movie more concerned with imagery and tone than with telling a conventional narrative. Indeed, a full twenty-one minutes have elapsed before a single line of dialogue has been spoken, and another six before we get a second (though there is some sparse voice-over narration). And that's about the average for this two-hour-and-twenty-six minute film.
The movie chronicles the daily life of a semi-crippled father (Janos Derzsi) and his weather-beaten daughter (Erika Bok) living in rural Hungary during the 19th Century. The movie does an effective job showing how, for most of our time here on earth, human experience has been a virtually nonstop battle against the elements - and a joyless, nay, soul-crushing, struggle for survival. The deliberate - some might even say funereal - pacing and lack of verbal communication between father and daughter certainly drive that point home.
We're delivered a brief respite from the redundant toil when a disgruntled neighbor wanders in and launches into a rambling diatribe on the metaphysical nature of social and economic inequality, but that doesn't last very long, and soon we're back to watching Bok hauling water, cooking dinner, tending the fire, dressing her father, etc and eating a diet that appears to be made up entirely of boiled potatoes. The movie also shows how, for many in the past and for many still living today, humans are always just one simple event - in this case, the drying up of a well, the sudden illness of a horse - away from full- blown personal catastrophe.
The movie is ostensibly based on an incident that happened to the great philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche in 1889, when he intervened to stop a cabman in Turin, Italy, from beating his horse, an incident that so traumatized the writer that he took to his bed, became demented, and lived the rest of his life in the care of his mother and sisters. The movie extrapolates from that event to show us the life of that cabman and to speculate on what might have driven him to his mistreatment of the animal. Could it be the numbing sameness and unrelenting brutality of his life that led him to his actions? And could Nietzsche be speaking through the neighbor who comes to visit but cannot convince the father of the truth of what he is saying?
The stark landscape with its sparse vegetation and relentless, moaning wind becomes a major force in the drama as well as a key factor in these characters' lives.
Tarr's direction is hypnotic and artful, to say the least, and there's no denying that the movie does cast a spell of sorts over its audience. That's good because, otherwise, it would essentially amount to two-and- a-half hours of watching people doing chores. But you'll definitely be happier with your own lot in life after seeing it.
The movie chronicles the daily life of a semi-crippled father (Janos Derzsi) and his weather-beaten daughter (Erika Bok) living in rural Hungary during the 19th Century. The movie does an effective job showing how, for most of our time here on earth, human experience has been a virtually nonstop battle against the elements - and a joyless, nay, soul-crushing, struggle for survival. The deliberate - some might even say funereal - pacing and lack of verbal communication between father and daughter certainly drive that point home.
We're delivered a brief respite from the redundant toil when a disgruntled neighbor wanders in and launches into a rambling diatribe on the metaphysical nature of social and economic inequality, but that doesn't last very long, and soon we're back to watching Bok hauling water, cooking dinner, tending the fire, dressing her father, etc and eating a diet that appears to be made up entirely of boiled potatoes. The movie also shows how, for many in the past and for many still living today, humans are always just one simple event - in this case, the drying up of a well, the sudden illness of a horse - away from full- blown personal catastrophe.
The movie is ostensibly based on an incident that happened to the great philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche in 1889, when he intervened to stop a cabman in Turin, Italy, from beating his horse, an incident that so traumatized the writer that he took to his bed, became demented, and lived the rest of his life in the care of his mother and sisters. The movie extrapolates from that event to show us the life of that cabman and to speculate on what might have driven him to his mistreatment of the animal. Could it be the numbing sameness and unrelenting brutality of his life that led him to his actions? And could Nietzsche be speaking through the neighbor who comes to visit but cannot convince the father of the truth of what he is saying?
The stark landscape with its sparse vegetation and relentless, moaning wind becomes a major force in the drama as well as a key factor in these characters' lives.
Tarr's direction is hypnotic and artful, to say the least, and there's no denying that the movie does cast a spell of sorts over its audience. That's good because, otherwise, it would essentially amount to two-and- a-half hours of watching people doing chores. But you'll definitely be happier with your own lot in life after seeing it.