Sátántangó (Satan's Tango) - Béla Tarr

Since the death of Andrei Tarkovsky, the search has been on for the heir to the throne he left behind. Many believed that his fellow countryman Alexander Sokurov would be the chosen one. Indeed, his films like Mother and Son (1997) and Russian Ark (2002), that disregarded montage in the same way as the Russian master, strike an immediate chord with viewers familiar with Tarkovsky’s works. But in a country a bit west to Russia, a Hungarian visionary called Béla Tarr had showed the world he had arrived, big time. In 1994, came out his long-cherished project – an epic by all measures – Sátántangó.

It seems like the fall of the Communist regime in the unnamed country. With their leader missing for a couple of years, a group of workers in a community farm decide to call it quits and plan to split up with the remaining money. With their supposedly great plan on the way, they spend their time carousing and sleeping around. Just when they think that their lives are going to change for the good, Irimias, their leader turns up exactly at a time when a girl at the farm does the unthinkable. The wizard of speech, Irimias, leverages the situation towards his favour and coaxes the workers into his big plan. Slowly (I mean slowly) the characters of everybody take shape and their weaknesses get exposed.

Just as funny as it sounds, this 7 hour long film never once feels long. There are many 10 minute shots that feel like any other. Typically in these shots, you see a very ordinary picture, say of barroom dance or a group of cows grazing. As the length of the shot increases you’ll feel a bit edgy, waiting for a cut. When the shot further prolongs to unimagined lengths, you’ll start noticing finer details in the images that you failed to pay heed to in the previous minutes. You’ll gather a lot from the still life of the shot and from objects and events that appeared to be banal till now. And as you slowly get enthralled by these tableau like images, Tarr cuts to the next, leaving you craving for a longer shot! In a way, each cut seems like a turning point in the seemingly simple plot.

Sátántangó is the sort of film that you live in, instead of staying separated by the fourth wall. Each sound is so carefully documented that you’ll feel wet every time a character walks in the rain and pull up a blanket every time you get those cold nasty winds on screen. The ambience of the film is so properly somber that you sense some ill omen gaining momentum, even in the most ordinary of frames. And the monochrome world is so enchantingly dull that you feel like one of the servile characters whiling away time in fruitless activities.

Though there is a political subtext to the film, Sátántangó serves more as a tale about domination and voluntary subordination. Literally, it depicts how an idle mind is a devil’s workshop and how man proposes and the devil disposes. Using various points of views of a single event, that would become popular in later films like Amores Perros (2000), Sátántangó meditatively moves towards an all apocalyptic ending that haunts you long after the credits roll out.

The 420+ minute runtime may be daunting for many viewers, without doubt. But, believe me, take your time and watch the film, preferably in three sittings. You’ll feel more than contended at the end of the film. This is one film that will easily change the way you look at cinema.

Satantango - The Opening Sequence