November (2017)
9/10
A dark, bewitching masterwork
19 January 2019
Warning: Spoilers
I'm glad things like this are still made. It's a film that immerses you in a remote culture in the 19th century but feels a world away. A film that draws you in with its chillingly pretty black-and-white photography. A film that brings to life ancient traditions and myths inside a dreamlike setting. And on top of all this is a healthy dose of black humour that doesn't ruin the ambience.

Of course visuals play a big part in capturing the unique atmosphere of this Estonian village. From the first shot of the water, you know you're in for a visual treat. Almost every shot is brilliantly executed, immersing you in its setting in a way that is vivid and dreamlike. There are plenty of experimental camera angles to enjoy. Village life is depicted in a way that, whether or not it's accurate, definitely feels realistic in spite of its oddities. Its portrayal of All Souls' Day, when the villagers are supposed to be able to speak to their dead relatives, is a creepy delight. But "November's" world is actually populated by spirits and myths, and so the dead actually appear... well, sort of. Whether the dead are actually there or just imagined, even in a world of walking tools, is left ambiguous in a way. It's also a source of humour in one scene when villagers ask the dead how life in the other world is.

One of the many things this film does so well is bring Estonian mythology to life in a way that celebrates the strangeness with a nudge and a wink. The opening scene presents us with a still shot of a mansion in a barren landscape. Shortly, a Kratt, a three-legged creature made of tools with an animal skull for a head, staggers across, disturbing the peace. It breaks into a barn, wraps a chain around a cow and tows it away. The cow's confusion adds to the hilarious surreality of the scene as it is then flown away by the creature, hanging down from the chain. This is a perfect taster to the kind of bizarre events and unusual humour that is available by the bucketload. Instead of taking these bizarre elements of Estonian mythology entirely seriously, Rainer incoporates them in a way that can make you laugh at how surreal it all is. We see dead souls, the Devil and even the Black Death personified in an exquisite scene and a talking snowman.

The dialogue too is good at showing us details about the mythology, revealing that Kratts are made for people who sell their soul to the Devil ('I didn't make you, so my name's not in the Devil's book'). Villagers try to trick the Devil by using blackcurrant juice as an offering instead of their blood.

The mythology isn't there just for the hell of it though. It plays vital parts in the film's exploration of its characters' (usually awful) traits. This is a film in which no one is wholly good and everyone is greedy. A rich-poor divide and foreign imperialism is partly responsible for the problems but the villagers are not benign. Most or all of them will be going to Hell. After all, they make Kratts do their work for them and the Devil finds work for idle hands. Greed is the underlying drive in this film. Even the couple who find Lina's dead body at the end are more interested in the coins that lay beside her. And in one comic scene, lust and nationalism intersect as a character asserts that the underpants of the visiting German Baron's daughter are his, because she is on Estonian soil.

The characters want what they cannot have. Lina loves Hans but Hans loves the Baron's daughter. At first glance it's a cliche love triangle but it actually ties well into the film's themes as well as giving reasons to care about this strange world. It's ultimately the characters' obsessions that lead to tragic consequences. The themes of greed and love make the film relatable, but not at the expense of its weirdness. The result is a brilliant concoction, one like nothing else.
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