Yesterday I watched Béla Tarr's Sátántangó, a seven-and-a-half hour epic.

The ebbs and flows of Tarr's epic film mean the viewer's interest, or attention span, comes and goes; it's probably best to make use not only of the two given intervals, but also of the twelve chapters which divide this laborious film. Because it is so slow, often with lengthy sequences without any kind of character interaction whatsoever, following what little narrative there is is especially difficult. Further evidence of where Van Sant found inspiration for his last three films: not only is there more shots imitated in Gerry, but the non-linear editing obviously influenced Elephant: and here, this coverage of events from different view-points seems to have no purpose other than to make the editing of the narrative compliment the way, in individual scenes, Tarr's camera moves through space. A lot of standout sequences happen to be involving animals of some sort: the opening shot, of cattle leaving a barnyard; a small girl force-feeding a cat rat-poison, with the cat struggling at first and then, when left alone, remaining still; and horses galloping into a town square and circling a statue, with three humans marching off into the distance; the penultimate chapter, in which two men edit a letter on a typewriter, with the camera circling them at a snail's pace; and, regardless of the expected ebbs and flows of such a difficult, ambiguous film, who can deny the power of the final moments, that crescendo of distant bells, and the slow descent into inevitable darkness?
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After that I watched Bergman's Persona.

Fantastic and fascinating, a film which evolves and rewards enormously when revisited. Shot in piercing black and white, its images will haunt and linger. Bergman explores cinematic illusion by means of a character's insanity: a conscious charade of mental illness in one character, the descent into frustration and identity confusion in another. Bold and daring, it has that rare, elusive quality of having been economically efficient - edited to the point of being inch-perfect in length and pace. Aesthetically resounding and psychologically profound.


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Lav, I'm not particularly fond of animals.