Satantango

Sátántangó has had just about everything that could be said said about it already. As a 22yo dude, I would like to think my movie watching journey is still really young. I hope to stay obsessed, stay intrigued and keep watching more and more and more I will never forget my viewing experience of Sátántangó. I started it yesterday with the plan of stopping before the third act, but I didn’t want to move a muscle. I stopped a couple times to eat some pizza and stuff, but for the most part, I was completely entranced, locked in and admiring every shot. Every movement. This movie is the pinnacle of nihilism. The doctor plays the accordion over and over again, yet his hands do not move to match the keys. The illusion of control on your own life. We can’t help our selves but fall for it. He is the only one who finds peace, even if in a devastating way. He observes his neighbors, watching the greed and justifiable selfishness unfold. Estike, the young girl, is innocent. She has no agency, stuck in this rainy, empty village destroyed by the destruction of communism. She has no control, so she seeks control in a world where she has none, even if misguided. Victims of cruelty often employ the same cruelty on others. Estike represents the village, it’s decay and poverty. Society has a way of turning its citizens against each other. Suffering is inevitable. Irimiás is a false prophet. (His monologue is one of the best pieces of acting I’ve seen in film). These people want any excuse, any sort of purpose. They don’t trust Irimiás, but how worse can it get? They’re scared, but instead of running, they drink and dance, repeating their cycle. Are we more afraid of freedom? Or order? Each character brings something special to the movie. A different dynamic. What makes this movie incredible is how Tarr uses non-linear narrative to let the audience see the perspective of the characters. The doctor sees Futaki hiding, and eventually returning back to the house to scheme. If you notice, the amount of time these actions take for each characters is different. We remember actions how we want to, and this was an incredible touch that can be noted multiple times throughout the movie. Every person has their own story. It’s human nature I have grown to love Slow Cinema with the small sample size I’ve taken in, and I’m not sure if it will get any better than this. The long takes (especially the dance scene) are mesmerizing, hypnotizing. Events unfold in real time, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. The film starts off with I think 13 minutes of cows, aimlessly wandering without the control of humans. At the beginning, these cows serve no purpose for us, so we are left to sit and think for 13 minutes. Where are the cows going? Why did they disappear? As the movie progressed we learn the significance of the cows and the effect their loss has on the community, but we can also take the cow scene as some pretty obvious foreshadowing and symbolism. That is just one example. This movie is over seven hours, so one could see how much you get here. The extremely slow camera movements, “dancing” with these character in times of distress, while other times, sitting still, letting the characters be. The camera moves in a circle as the villagers pass around a bottle of liquor, showing their unity. More and more and more, Tarr and company completed a masterpiece with the camera, using as simply a lens, a window, a tool to see this world, not to create it. To Tarr, life is an inescapable arena of misery. Misery is steps away, and can be seen wherever you look. Society has a way of corrupting its people. As they fight their battles and look to find God and hope, the rain never stops. The road gets filled with mud. Clearly, Sátántangó has left me thinking. It may just be the biggest achievement in film. It is one of the biggest achievement of humans. I look forward to the day a movie makes me feel how I have since I watched this