Werckmeister Harmonies (2000) User Reviews

Demanding, but rewarding

[ian.lavery · 8/10 · 21 August 2000]

Imagine it. You spend four years on a project, with big funding hassles and changes in crew; and then, finally, after your film is very enthusiastically received at Cannes, the lab goes and destroys the only English-subtitled print before it's shown at the Edinburgh festival. Obviously Bela Tarr doesn't have his sorrows to seek.

Some might accuse the film--which centres on a rural town riven by the arrival of a "circus" consisting only of a dead white whale in a corrugated iron trailer and a character called "The Prince" whose nihilistic and inflammatory remarks incite riots--of veering very close to a parody of miserabilist cinema. Okay, so it's in black and white; there's a lot of mud, rubbish, smoke and wetness; there's not much dialogue between not very attractive people; every take lasts between five and ten minutes; and there are many scenes of people trudging through cold and bleak landscapes. (You'll never see so much trudging in a film.) Lars Rudolph, as the hero Janos, looks like a cross between a young Klaus Kinski and Frasier's brother, Niles, and spends most of the film wild-eyed and harried.

However, Tarr's distinctive style--exceptionally fluid and intricate tracking shots rendered in beautifully sharp monochrome--perfectly matches the grim story, which, as the director pointed out, explores the "boundaries between civilisation and barbarism". Any seemingly parodic moments are far outweighed by extremely powerful ones, notably the opening scene in a pub where the hero explains what an eclipse is using the sozzled bar clientele; the hero's deeply unsettling encounter with the "Prince"; and the mob's attack on a hospital.

Although the narrative falls apart a bit in its closing scenes, the film's images stay with the viewer in ways unmatched much recent cinema. This film demands your time and concentration, but rewards them; it has a unique and mesmerising rhythm. And the music, by Mihaly Vig, is simply beautiful.

Contemplative Film

[Janazz · 9/10 · 28 October 2002]

made entirely of longshots of 2-4 minutes in duration. Layers of symbolism in poetic images. It's not a movie, it's not entertainment. It's film, and you have to engage and ask questions about what you are seeing. Why did only 2 people saw the whale? What was the significance of that? How did the riots get started? Who were the insiders and who were the outsiders? How could you tell? Why the hospital? Why do humans always need a causation? Why was the Prince's speech in a different language? What did the Prince represent? What did the Whale? A viewer may not want to be taxed with these questions but given the way the world is, these questions are worth thinking about. I've only seen one other "contemplative film" which is Angelopoulos' Ulyssey's Gaze, which I deeply cherish. This didn't get to me as deeply as it's images weren't as evocative to me. This is probably due to my being able access the cultural symbols of Angelopoulos more easily (though that film isn't "easy" either,it's just that I have more background in modern Greek poetry, etc.). Recommend this film as a unique chance to think of an alternative use of celloid, don't be intimidated.

Mesmerising...

[meyerhold · 9/10 · 25 February 2003]

A wonderfully balletic and poetic film, built on long, long tracking and steadycam shots (thirty-eight for 2hrs 25mins). A study in pervasive yet neutral melancholia; the main character, who accompanies us through the whole film, is a simple, dreamy yet quietly optimistic postman, if one were to interpret his wide-eyed stare and unquestioning attitudes in such a way. One is drawn in from the very beginning, via the evocative music and camerawork. It is rare these days to see European films that take so much time and care as they progress. Watching it I was reminded of Aleksei German's Khrustalyov, My Car! - 1998, Roy Andersson's Songs from the Second Floor - 2000, Fellini and of course Tarkovski. I don't think that all cinema should be 'easy' or well wrapped up. Indeed, I often feel that I am simply not in the mood for seeing a particular film, or experiencing a particular atmopshere. After all it is fairly easy to tell from even short descriptions or reviews the kind of thing that is in store. So I was somewhat surprised to see one previous reviewer here describe this film as "dreary drek". Well, perhaps, but if they wanted to go and see a comedy or redemptive drama, why didn't they go see one already?! I may have had the odd moment of wishing certain shots were a tad shorter, but all in all I was mesmerised, from beginning to end.

A challenging masterwork

[jandesimpson · 23 November 2004]

It is only after a third viewing that I dare venture some comments on this awesome film. That I was fascinated from the start was beyond doubt but its funereal tempo caused me to nod to the extent that even on a second viewing there were whole sequences I had missed. By the third attempt I feel ready."Werckmeister Harmonies" is one of the great artistic challenges of our age. I cannot begin to admit that I understand it fully but I do know that it carries those haunting resonances remaining long after the final shot, that I recently found in the Japanese "Eureka" and nearly half a century ago in Antonioni's "L'Avventura". As there is very little evidence that even the professionals have got to grips with the film's meaning - most are clearly as mesmerised as me but talk mainly about style, in other words how the director looks at his world, I will venture a few ideas even if they are erroneous. Bela Tarr's masterwork can only be understood as an allegory. In the 17th century the German musician, Andreas Werckmeister, conceived the idea of equal temperament thus enabling music to be written and played in any key. In doing so, according to the philosopher musicologist of the film, the purity of the natural cosmic language and inevitability of ordered sound became tainted. As a metaphor for this concept we are shown a small Hungarian town in mid-winter under the threat of civil chaos, The catalyst that brings this about is the arrival in the main square of a circus consisting of only one giant lorry containing a stuffed whale and a mysterious figure billed as the Prince who occasionally speaks but is never seen except as a shadow on a wall. The circus is a challenge to man's understanding of his safe familiar world and when, as here, there is a failure of comprehension the result is a crescendo into anarchy. A mob go on the rampage and, in a sequence of extreme barbarity, attack the local hospital beating up the defenceless patients. That the film works as an intensely human document is due to the fact that the director has given us a character with whom we can identify in the form of Janos, a young postman, whose odyssey throughout the wintry town we follow every step. As each scene takes place in real time generally in a single shot, a walk down a street is the length it takes to achieve. Thus Tarr builds into his structure that element of reflective time for the audience that is a hallmark of the cinema of Angelopoulos and Aoyami. We assimilate Janos's impressions for the time it takes him to experience them. As much has already been written about Tarr's use of the long take I will just add that the attack on the hospital is every bit as powerful an action sequence as the massacre on the Odessa Steps in "Battleship Potemkin". What however is so extraordinary about Tarr's great set-piece is the way it generates a similar power not by Eisenstein-like montage but by long tracking shots. Equally extraordinary is the use of silence. Not one of the victims cries out in distress, there is just the sound of furniture and fixtures being smashed. Whereas Eisenstein homes in on characters and faces, Tarr views his as a dark almost faceless collective. There is just one face recollected from a previous crowd scene to relate this terrible event to the casually familiar. The sequence reaches its climax when a curtain is pulled down from a bath to reveal in longshot the naked standing body of an old man, just flesh devoid of personality. This has the astonishing effect of taming the mob so that they gradually slink away in shame. There is a strange parallel here with our final glimpse of Janos sitting on a hospital bed, traumatised after his unsuccessful attempt at escape from the town. The only sounds he makes are quietly sung unrelated notes. His uncle, the musicologist is with him. He admits to the by now uncomprehending Janos that he has finally compromised by tuning his piano to equal temperament as the only way of perhaps selling the instrument. For the rest all is silence. The musician visits the square by now deserted to see for himself the whale abandoned outside its wrecked carrier. It is Tarr's haunting resolution of a nightmare vision of a world gone mad.

The Day the Circus Came Into Town...

[rooprect · 10/10 · 24 December 2011]

"Werckmeister Harmonies" is one of the most challenging films, with the greatest payoff, of any movie I've ever seen. A visually stunning adaptation of László Krasznahorkai's novel "The Melancholy of Resistance", this film tells the story of a sleepy Hungarian village over the course of about a day and a half when the circus rolls into town. With the circus come two main attractions: the body of a giant whale, and a 25-lb circus freak known only as "The Prince". These two attractions have profound, shocking effects on our hero Janos (excellently played by the boyish Lars Rudolph) and the inhabitants of the entire village, if not the entire country.

The story presents a powerful allegory, every bit as biting and accusatory as Plato's "Allegory of the Cave", exposing the nature of human folly and the reason why society does, did, and always shall suck. I've found that the people who most enjoy this film are those who are moderately to extremely cynical; it shows us a very dark, nihilistic, nightmarish world similar to what we've seen in the classics "Brazil", Orson Welles' "The Trial" and basically every Herzog film ever made.

But what makes this dark film enjoyable to watch is that doesn't just show us that humanity is flawed; it seeks to explain *why* humanity is flawed.

I'll warn you up front, this is a very slow moving film with seemingly pointless, indulgent scenes of people silently walking down the street, eating a can of soup, or walking down the street in the opposite direction. Something to bear in mind is, just like in the epic "2001: A Space Odyssey" which has scenes of, say, an astronaut running on a giant hamster wheel for a painfully long time, these scenes are there to convey the monotony of existence. Even beyond that, these scenes are supposed to convey the comfort humans feel with tedious & ritualistic behavior. Order vs. chaos.

The second thing that might help is the meaning of the title "Werckmeister Harmonies" which is the key to understanding the film's message. It's explained in a scene near the beginning, but I'll try to explain it in simpler terms here. In western music, we have a particular tuning system for all instruments. This system was developed by Andreas Werckmeister around the year 1700, and centuries later we still use it. The problem is, in a nutshell, it's wrong. Werckmeister's "well tempered" tuning is a compromise that allows instruments to sound good in a variety of keys, but it sacrifices the purity of sounding perfect in any 1 particular key. Pure, "natural" instruments such as the recorder flute sound great but they are limited to 1 key, 7 notes per octave. When western music took on complex instruments like the piano & guitar which play in every key, 12 notes per octave, a certain degree of fudging had to be made in their tuning. This is because in the natural world, the diverse frequencies of music don't add up to neatly repeating 12- note octaves as we want (for some reason we lose about 1/5 of a note every octave). Thus the music we know today, while not necessarily being unpleasant, is not as pure & simple as true "naturally tuned" instruments of yesteryear.

How does this relate to the movie? The movie is about humans' need to quantify the unquantifiable, our need to create artificial order that suits us, even though it may be an aberration of nature. If you grasp this idea, along with the metaphor of the Werckmeister tuning, as well as the creative story that unfolds in the film, all augmented with intelligent cinematography, you will adore this film.

Congratulations, you have successfully read through the driest & most boring IMDb review I have ever written. I have no doubt that you will enjoy solving the philosophical puzzle of the film "Werckmeister Harmonies".

Similar, challenging films include: "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1969), "Aguirre the Wrath of God" (1972), or the more recent Coen brothers' philosophical "A Serious Man", or the brain-blasting Kaufman dark comedy/mindbender "Synecdoche, NY" (2008).

Cinematic Patience

[afox9119 · 10/10 · 15 October 2018]

What is perhaps one of the best beginnings to a film helps lay the foundation for the rest of this film. Janos is brought to the center of the room being told that, "it is time." From here Janos begins a remedial science lesion on the cosmos. He begins by using a drunken bar patron as the sun. Then another as the earth. Finally, another as the moon. He explains the rotation of the three celestial bodies in what appears to be a drunken daze. However, Janos stop the rotation of the bar patrons and begins his monologue. Janos' language changes; the music resonates throughout the scene. Janos gives the patrons an allegorical tale of the eclipse; stating the sense of unrest that the animals and people experience as this sudden change shadows the earth. However, the chaos is only momentary. Order is soon restored. Shortly after his speech, Janos and the drunken patrons begin to dance at which point the barkeep kicks Janos out of the bar. In a rather ominous tone, Janos exclaims to the barkeep that "it is not over." I summarize the beginning of this spectacular film because the magnificent Bela Tarr has laid out everything we need to know in these short 11 minutes to understand his work. We are told that the story is going to be an allegory; an allegory of great chaos brought upon a population of the ignorant (The eclipse frightening the animals natural order of life). We are told that most everything in the film will be symbolic (The earth, sun, and moon acting as natural life with disorder). We are given the weather conditions and the dereliction of the town which further sets the tone of the film. Finally, we are given the pace of the film. Patience is needed. A film captured in a mere 39 shots in what feels archaic black and white (Again acting as a symbol for the Post WWII desolate town and its intoxicated population). The film follows our protagonist, Janos, as he meanders through his life playing an oxymoronic archetype of the wise fool. His small Hungarian town is awakened from their inexorable lassitude by the arrival of a circus attraction. This attraction is a giant stuffed whale and accompanying the whale is The Prince; a mysterious and shamanistic disturbance to the town's feeling of unrest and neglect. The Prince then capitalizes on the ignorance of the town, leading them to form a mob and storm the hospital. Janos is forced to play the unifier and bring the town out of the eclipse. Tarr has created literature in motion with this masterpiece. Harmonies is more of an experience than anything else. I watched this film maybe 10 years ago and am just now writing this review. The film resonates and challenges our ability to interpret. It is almost like we as viewers would wish to have a SparkNotes page for this film, so we could understand the symbolic nature of the whale, the prince, and so much more. Yet, we are given no interpretations; just as I will leave you with no further explanations. Just a recommendation to find this film and let patience truly be the greatest virtue of them all.

Slow paced, beautiful descent into madness!

[NateManD · 10/10 · 27 February 2006]

There's one film that sends shivers up my spine just with it's mere title and that's Bela Tarr's "the Werckmeister Harmonies". It's one of those films that may infuriate some viewers meanwhile leaving others awestruck. The story concerns a very cold winter in a small Hungarian town. The camera follows a man Janos in his various everyday events. We know that this is no ordinary film during the poetic intro in the bar, where the various customers act out different parts of the solar system in rotation. The peaceful order of the village is disturbed, when a traveling circus comes to town. The circus has a stuffed whale carcass on display and abnormalities in jars. A man known as the prince who runs the circus remains in hiding. The stuffed whale seems to have a mystical power. These and other small events which are not fully explained lead the town's people to go crazy and eventually turn violent. This film is very slow, at some times unbearable. Certain events are filmed in real time. Similar film's that come to mind are Antonioni's "Avventura,L" and Heneke's "Code Unknown" Although this film is super slow at times, I loved it. There is something that is gripping about it. It is very surreal and emotional. The scene where the villagers go crazy and raid a nursing home almost brought me to tears. The films musical score is so haunting, it will stay in your mind forever. Also director Gus Van Sant is highly influenced by the films of Bela Tarr and it's apparent in his more recent work like "Gerry" and "Elephant". "The Werckmeister Harmonies" is a masterpiece that's not for everyone. I recommend it for viewers who are extremely patient and are looking for something different.

Bleak and gripping, a great European film

[gray4 · 9/10 · 26 September 2005]

This is as bleak a film as I have since for a long time. Seen mainly through the eyes of a 'holy fool', played by German Lars Rudolph, it may be allegorical, it may be a horror story or it might even be a distinctively Hungarian very black comedy.

Bela Tarr's direction is stunning. The lighting is brilliant throughout, but none more so than when the circus comes to town in the middle of the night. The care and patience with which scenes are built greatly enhances the intensity of the most violent moments. The scene, for example, when a mob march down a long street before attacking a hospital matches the greatest moments of black-&-white silent cinema.

The film retains a disturbing ambiguity throughout, right up to its powerful ending. What is the significance of the whale and its owners? And is Valuska (Lars Rudolph) as innocent as it seems on the surface? The result is a long (140 minutes), gripping and exciting film that leaves more questions than answers at the end.

Amazingly beautiful

[swampcow · 10/10 · 18 November 2002]

Don't let warnings of length turn you away from this movie. If you are incapable of sitting still for 2.5 hours and realizing the beauty of lengthy shots, don't see it. But if not, don't let reviews by those with short attention-spans keep you from seeing this film. It is one of the most beautifully and dramatically shot movies, with each shot lasting about 10 minutes. This allows for breathtaking camera movement that mixes perfectly with the sound track. Take a break from typical movies broken up by excessive shots and see this movie. It will blow you away.

'The Melancholy of Resistance'

[Galina_movie_fan · 10/10 · 28 May 2006]

The film is based on the novel "The Melancholy of Resistance" by László Krasznahorkai. This story takes place in a small Hungarian provincial town in mid-winter. The event that starts to build up the atmosphere of suspicion and unrest is the arrival to town of a circus consisting of only one giant lorry containing a huge, maybe the largest in the world stuffed whale and a mysterious figure who is called the Prince, is never seen except as a shadow on a wall and who possesses the sinister powers of making people act like a mob. The circus is a challenge to the citizens to understand what its place in their small and familiar universe is. They see the circus as the dark shadow of the moon during the total eclipse that "grows bigger... and bigger. And as it covers more and more, slowly only a narrow crescent of the sun remains, a dazzling crescent. And at the next moment, the next moment - say that it's around one in the afternoon - a most dramatic turn of event occurs. At that moment the air suddenly turns cold. Can you feel it? The sky darkens, then goes all dark. The dogs howl, rabbits hunch down, the deer run in panic, run, stampede in fright. And in this awful, incomprehensible dusk, even the birds... the birds too are confused and go to roost. And then... Complete Silence. Everything that lives is still. Are the hills going to march off? Will heaven fall upon us? Will the Earth open under us? We don't know. We don't know, for a total eclipse has come upon us..." When there is a failure to understand, the fear may cause the descent into cruel and senseless violence and turn the decent people in the merciless monsters.

As a director, Bela Tarr is extraordinary. A lot has been said about his camera work and long single take shots. His usage of only two colors - black and white is stunning, his sound works perfectly with the images adding to the building of the unbearable tension. His three main characters are played by the German actors Lars Rudolph, Peter Fitz, and Hanna Schygulla - the Fassbinder favorite actress, the star of his 23 films. Casting Lars Rudolf as a protagonist, the young man whose journey throughout the winter night on the streets of the town we follow step by step contributes to the movie's success. Rudolph looks like a cross between Prince Myshkin and a Rock Star, and he is actually Frontman of the group Stan Red Fox. Judging by the movie's ending, the comparison with Myshkin will sadly make sense, too. It will also bring to memory the final words of Anton Chekhov's "Ward #6" - "The whole world is Ward #6". You know, I would not say that everyone should run and find the film and watch it. I understand that it is not easy watching, it does require an active participation but I found it extremity rewarding because it introduced me to the master with the unique style, obvious talent and the interest to the eternal and difficult questions that may not have easy and immediate answers.

I am skeptical when critics announce every new interesting Eastern European director "New Tarkovsky" but I should say Tarr is the closest to him I've seen so far. The plot and the story were a little too easy and too obvious for me to follow but Tarr's ability to create an unbearable tension and atmosphere without any special tricks is amazing.

"Werckmeister Harmonies" is a masterpiece of melancholic resistance. I was resistant to it first, but then, its melancholy overwhelmed me.

Slow, slow, ..did I mention slow?

[daikou · 6/10 · 3 January 2008]

The story sounds interesting enough. I may go check out the original novel and read. But this film.. It's so incredibly, Painfully SLOW. All I can say about this film is, if it was 100 min. long (instead of 145), perhaps I would be willing to give 8 or something. Usually I can enjoy most so-called artsy crafty films, but this time the style feels unreasonable and unjustifiable. For example, when two guys just walk to the next block without uttering a word, the director spends 2 minutes shooting this remarkable adventure. The director simply turned a promising concept into a torture (for most moviegoers, I am positive). After seeing this, I'd bet you realize the virtue of Hollywood's fast-paced style.

Challenging, profound, surreal and pretty hilarious.

[Amyth47 · 8/10 · 23 March 2019]

My Rating : 8/10

Béla Tarr, Hungarian filmmaker - known for philosophical arthouse cinema delivers a mystical mad tale (that will require immense patience, I think I did 10 household chores while watching this movie) that is original in content and absurd yet meaningful.

37 long takes make up this oeuvre of world cinema and a black-and-white palette works best for such kind of art - colour would distract from the cinematic experience.

Watch it and absorb the melancholic background music - images and sounds melt so beautifully in this arthouse venture.

The Empire May Strike Back...But There's Always A New Hope (Isn't There?)

[Verycleaver · 7/10 · 11 June 2006]

So many thoughtful and knowledgeable comments have preceded this one, I'll be (uncharacteristically) brief: It seems to me that the form and aesthetics of the film are so dominant, and the walloping capital-S symbolism of the whale, the helicopter, the Prince, etc. are so overt, that it's not much use to dwell on them yet again in a short review.

(Also, I agree with those who think that the symbolism doesn't quite gel into a cohesive whole -- if we're trying to read a consistent symbolism structure under the plot, which maybe we just don't have to.)

But it may be of some help to those who haven't seen the film, or those who have and seek a structure on which to hang their analyses, to mention some apparent influences or connections.

Tarkovsky is an often-mentioned one. 'Tis slow, 'tis tracking shots, yes yes. But I wonder tho: is Tarkovsky brought up because of the starkness, the slowness, the Euroweirdness alone, or do Tarkovsky's ideas (whatever they may be; it's too much to go into here) also resonate? And if the influence is purely aesthetic, then what are the exciting ideas at work under the skin?

Well, for the plot, I found Bergman a much more useful connection. The relationship between Unkie Gyory and his wife suggested numerous Liv Ullmann and Max Von Sydow relationships in Bergman -- tense, abused, exhausted, too-familiar, yet inextricably connected. (I don't believe "Harmonies" ever shows them in the same shot, by the way.) Even Jonas plays the next-generation counterpoint and intermediary that often pops up in Bergman's movies (as in "Saraband," for instance).

But beyond these generalities, there's a specific and pretty decent reference: Bergman's "Shame," in which a pacific village is ripped open by the intrusion of war -- for no reason, to no end, and with profound effects on the lead characters. Tanks and helicopters feel upsettingly foreign. (Even though "Harmonies" doesn't pretend to occur in any era but our own, it's carefully presented in an antiqued and rarified manner until the coming of the "war".) There are probably many similar movies in which Eden is rent by sin, but "Shame" for me remains the most upsetting and direct -- and this movie more than any other captured the same jarring sense of intrusion and catastrophe.

Also, on the same tack, I'm a bit surprised that no one (as far as I noticed) mentioned possible parallels to World War II: the sudden invasion of a foreign entity, the decimation of an innocent populace, the twisted "prince" (cf. Machiavelli, by the way) inciting destruction for its own sake (or perhaps some clandestine "final solution," perhaps having to do with the whale? suggests one townswoman), and numerous other scenes.

Lastly, oh doom-n-gloom wooers, there is a sneaky final hope in the film -- though it's sneaky because it comes at the very beginning: though the sun's light may be eclipsed from the earth, and though a shadow shall fall over life and love, there will (we must believe!) come the sun again. Janos goes out of his way to make this point. Gyorgi will come again, tomorrow, at the usual hour. The circus has left town and the square is bare and the whale is flopped out for everyone to see. In short, despite all predictions of the apocalypse, tomorrow is another day after all.

In some ways, "Harmonies" may be a far easier picture for some to understand once the thick smear of Artsiness (which, though very beautiful, could be pared a bit without any loss) is temporarily ignored for the sake of the traditional narrative in the film.

And now I've certainly gone on far longer than my promise to be brief...

I don't get it

[rand_corp · 5/10 · 19 December 2005]

First let me say I'm not someone who usually cringe at the fact of having to think while seeing movies, I love Tarkowsky movies for example, Berghman is also a favorite.....but this? The positive points can be summed up easily: the photography is splendid, and the music is perfect....does it make a good movie? I used to think so, but this one is a perfect example of one that (for me) doesn't make it.... maybe it's because I'm too dumb? possible, but I don't think so.... Tarkwosky for example also used very long shots, but what he never did was filming 5 minutes of the exact same image of two people walking (and I mean just their heads, because in this movie there are a lot of those shots, but sometimes it IS effective), the general result is plainly boring, even with the intelligent undertones (which are done in a way that, while intelligent, is above all very pedantic)

you also always feel that the director is making some of the long shots not for the aesthetic, or symbolic effect, but just to spare on budget....

I'm very disappointed in this film, because I really liked the first 30 minutes or so, but it just went on and on, without even keeping the same level as in the first scenes....

While reading the very praising comments on this page, I also get the feeling some people just try to see much more in the movie than there is to it...when a movie is slow and arty, it doesn't necessarily mean it is very profound....yes it is an allegory on musical theory placed in the context of a small town, which is quite interesting on itself, but it does NOT make a profound movie....except for people who absolutely want to make some sort of intellectual masturbation out of it, but then it's not what you find in the movie, but what you find in yourself....an exercise that, in my opinion can be made much more effectively while watching "Stalker" or "Solyaris" than Werckmeister Harmonies, that owes much to Tarkowsky, but cab never equal it's level....

The Weight of Black

[tieman64 · 24 November 2009]

"I'm a man with a huge world-view, surrounded by microbes." – Woody Allen

Bela Tarr directs "Werckmeister Harmonies". The plot? A circus act, consisting of a giant whale and a special guest called "The Prince", arrives at a small Hungarian town. With the circus comes a palpable sense of impending doom. Pretty soon, local townsfolk kick-start a violent uprising. They seem compelled by invisible, magical forces. One man, Janos Valuska, observes these mysterious proceedings with fascination. A figure of innocence and perhaps naivety, Janos watches as the circus causes violent gangs to form, some taking advantage of the situation and seizing power, others attempts to restore "order and cleanliness".

The film begins with a beautiful sequence. Janos enters a bar and persuades a group of drunks to create a model of the solar system. Dancing in circles the gang reenact a solar eclipse, a ballet which is beautiful until one looks closely. The participants are all drunk and in a state of mental confusion, readily believing Janos' apocalyptic description of a solar eclipse. To Janos, an eclipse is not a scientific event, but a quasi-religious one which heralds the end of mankind. Instead of rational explanation, Janos and his congregation thus cling to irrationality and superstition. Later, when Janos sees the giant whale up close, he attributes its presence to God; surely only a powerful, supernatural being could create such a funny creature.

Tarr then uses the whale as a metaphor for a kind of irrational, medieval superstition akin to blind, fascist obedience. No one in the film even considers taking a closer look at the whale, for if they had they would have noticed "The Prince" hidden behind it, a shadowy leader who represents nothing but an image onto which anyone can project whatever ideals they wish.

Midway in the film, Janos overhears his uncle talking about Andreas Werckmeister, a musician famous for dividing the octave into twelve half-step tones. Werckmeister believed that maths, music and astronomy were linked manifestations of the harmony of the universe, a view held by Pythagoras, who argued that most euphonious harmonies resulted from tones that reflected the proportions of simple integers (2:1, 3:2 etc). But basing musical scales on simple ratios leads to contradictions and octaves that aren't true, which led to people like Werckmeister (and others) seeking to find an "equal temperament" or some form of "new musical system".

By adopting this new system, Janos' uncle believes that mankind has deprived musical instruments of their divine tuning, replacing it with an artificial system which is nothing but an illusion; an illusion which western music is based on. Werckmeister is thus a sort of Promethian figure, taking the gift of knowledge/music away from God and handing it down to men.

Janos' uncle thus believes that music, and by extension life itself, was better when it belonged solely to God. He longs for a simpler universe ruled by a sovereign Master Figure, and fails to acknowledge the vast achievements developed under the Werckmeister scale. As a musicologist he fails to appreciate the higher level of organisation and harmonies which "man's creation" has led to.

The film's treatment of "order", "chaos", "anarchy" and "civilization", are thus reduced to musical terms; a three-way battle between order and symmetry (the unified world-view of classical Greece and the Middle Ages), superstition and mysticism and a more nuanced blending of the two. Consider again the first scene, in which Janos attempts to create heavenly order using the drunken bums. The bums fumble about, irregular in their movements, always falling out of position...and yet they are supremely beautiful, spinning in circles whilst the camera pulls back and the music swells. For Tarr, all quests for perfection must take into consideration humanity's imperfections; harmony depends on imprecision and compromise.

But Tarr makes a larger point. Late in the film we're introduced to a gun waving police chief, his dictatorial children and his lover, a woman who seeks to use the escalating chaos of the village to acquire more power. Using these characters, and various symbolic sequences, Tarr then sketches a political allegory about the fascist's quest for order, and fascism's unstoppable tilt toward collapse.

Hungary became a "Communist" (or rather, state capitalist) state after World War 2, the Soviet Union maintaining a military presence and enforcing Stalinist principles. This led to a revolt in 1956, which helped to topple authoritarianism and give birth to a kind of mixed ideology Socialism, a greatly liberalised approach to communism that lasted until 1989 (upon which democratic government and capitalism became the norm). But the film is not a strict allegory of Hungarian history, rather it aims to show how one political ideology can replace another when an aimless populace irrationally follows a charismatic demagogue. It is about how reactionary opportunists exploit superstition to gain power in the name of order, how people obsessed with "order" have contributed to disturbing the harmonic "disorder" of things and how impotent members of the intelligentsia often sit on the sidelines whilst the world burns.

Indeed, it's no surprise that the first thing the violent gang does in the film is to raid a hospital, destroying scientific equipment in a crazy rage. With science dead they become slaves to lies; an irrational force, an angry mob which is only halted by the sight of a naked old man. This man, his body frail, his bones protruding from his flesh, forces them to confront a mass of paradoxes. Humbled and disgusted, they retreat into the night. But the damage has already been done. The old order has been destroyed and a new era has begun, Janos, the boy who believed in apocalyptic whales and the mysterious beauty of god, ending the film in a sterile hospital ward, misdiagnosed by science and branded an insane criminal.

8.9/10 – Though comprised of only 39 shots, this is perhaps Tarr's most accessible film.

Rhythmical Harmonies

[atyson · 10/10 · 22 January 2007]

• A portrait of a small town in Hungary descending gradually into civil disorder -

An extraordinarily brilliant movie. But this is not for everyone. Beautifully shot in black and white, the director bravely specialises in spectacularly lengthy shots which the viewer's brain will either become absorbed by or reject for tedium. An interesting dimension which can heighten involvement in these long shots (or annoy the hell out the unconvinced) is rhythmical sound - be it cranky machinery (reminiscent of Sergio Leone),walking, or an amazing scene where two kids are jumping up and down and banging on drums on the eve before a riot ensues. There is a detachment to the camera-work which reminded me of Kubrick. Again this is a technique which will alienate many viewers. But it works disturbingly well in particular during the penultimate riot scene at the hospital.

I watched this followed by The Damnation on the current double-disc DVD edition available in the UK which is a superb issue and has an interview with the Director as a bonus feature. Interesting to note that he states quite categorically that he intends no allegorical/symbolic element to his work.

29 days after September 11th

[szilard · 10/10 · 1 October 2001]

I saw this film over the summer and it became one of my absolute favourites. It is a FILM - you cannot tell others about it in words. That's just wrong media. I mean there are so many layers in this film (layers of black, white and gray, light, dark, noises, body language, behaviour, meanings of words and so forth)!

Nevertheless, I would not write a commentary (I've never done such a thing). However, after the tragedy that happened September 11th, this film has become very relevant in my mind. You see I am not religious at all but this film was the one that brought me closest to becoming a believer in God. To make it simpler than it is: according to the story of Werckmeister harmonies, the simple people of this small town are offered a choice of seeing one of God's perfect creatures - the giant whale -, or to follow someone - a weird, mystical little dwarf (?), the Duke -, who is spreading some rumours and agitating the people. So there is the problem of choice, distinguishing what is ultimately important. Then there is the problem of communications between people. Which does not really exist. And then there is this desire for being led by strong, aggressive men, who Know the Truth...

Well, I hope I did not deter anyone from seeing the film, with my narrow interpretation of it. As I said, it is just one layer. If you like complex ideas, films that stay with you longer than the evening you've seen them, this one is definitely for you.

Bela Tarr's Werckmeister Harmonies: Can human bodies take up heavenly relations?

[adrian-193 · 10/10 · 30 December 2006]

"The first is Hamlet's great formula, 'The time is out of joint.' Time is out of joint, time is unhinged. The hinges are the axis around which the door turns. Cardo, in Latin, designates the subordination of time to the cardinal points through which the periodical movements that it measures pass. As long as time remains on its hinges, it is subordinate to movement: it is the measure of movement, interval or number. This was the view of ancient philosophy. But time out of joint signifies the reversal of the movement-time relationship. It is now movement which is subordinate to time. Everything changes, including movement. We move from one labyrinth to another. The labyrinth is no longer a circle, or a spiral which would translate its complications, but a thread, a straight line, all the more mysterious for being simple, inexorable as Borges says, 'the labyrinth which is composed of a single straight line, and which is indivisible, incessant.' Time is no longer related to the movement which it measures, but movement is related to the time which conditions it: this is the first great Kantian reversal in the Critique of Pure Reason." Gilles Deleuze, Preface "On four poetic formulas which might summarize the Kantian philosophy", Kant's Critical Philosophy, vii. And might not the last sentence of this first paragraph in Deleuze's brilliant and brief study of Kant, be a statement about film?

"Time is no longer related to the movement which it measures, but movement is related to the time which conditions it: this is the first great achievement of film..."

Ever since film began to un-spool its own version of time at 24 frames per second, synthesizing it through simple optical illusion and the narrative innovations of montage (editing), film-makers have enjoyed the magic of imaginary time. And on occasion, a film- maker arrives who has an entirely different sense of time, a different breath, a gait out of step with the rhythms of time common to the moving picture. Bela Tarr is one of those film-makers. And while he is often compared with the Russian master Andrei Tarkovsky (also a time-maker), Bela Tarr's temporalities are material, where Tarkovsky's are often symbolic and visual. Asked once why the scene of villagers marching towards the town square in Werckmeister Harmonies lasted as long as it did, the director answered, simply, "that's how long it took to get there." As simple as this is for an answer, there is something else at work in Tarr's camera work. Werckmeister Harmonies, at over 2 hours, contains only 39 shots. It took the director a day to edit together. But the effect of storytelling in so few shots is not just a reduction to the straightforward and direct capture of time. He is, I think, making film think with the body; and it is the body which, set in motion, resides in time. Werckmeister Harmonies opens with a shot of town drunks in a bar enacting the orbits of the planets. A lone bulb hangs from the ceiling as the men spin and tumble slowly about the room, their bodies taking up heavenly relations. And this is what they do throughout the rest of the film: bodies move and are moved, they plod along empty roads by night; they gather in tedious crowds; they assemble for a march on the town square; they pillage a hospital; they walk adjacent to one another (there is a two minute tracking shot for which the director laid down over 300m of rail). And as the villagers in Werckmeister Harmonies are set in motion, so too is the viewer. Tarr makes the viewer think his film, and live its time, with him. I have watched as friends adjust their seats during many a shot, their own physicality coming under the spell of Tarr's temporality. Can bodies think? Can minds think without bodies? Can we have social relations as heavenly as the relations among the heavenly bodies? Tarr's opening shot, in which we found the drunks losing themselves to vertiginal rotations, culminates with an eclipse. Tarr shows us an eclipse, an eclipse in the heavens, staged by village drunks. Light, obscured, is not darkness, as time, out of joint, is not motion.

An intense look into the eye of the storm

[Artimidor · 10/10 · 29 January 2013]

"Werckmeister Harmonies" tells a tale like no other in a way like no one else has ever done before. If you're ready for a very different kind of art, feel free to follow a humble paper boy with the sense for wonder on his rounds. He has a clear picture in mind of what makes the universe tick, a strong belief that everything follows its preordained order, is in eternal harmony, a concept the musicologist he's working for vehemently denies - or at least that man is capable to understand it. Signs and portents already make it clear that the times are achanging, and soon shadows engulf an unnamed town in the middle of nowhere, when a circus arrives with a monstrous fish to be exhibited. And thus the young János sets out to see a whale, but what he'll get is a glimpse of an alienating apocalyptical eclipse happening right before his eyes...

"Werckmeister Harmonies" is another highly politically, philosophically, existentially, even religiously charged work, depending which way you want to see it, made by the visionary Hungarian director Béla Tarr. Based on the novel "The Melancholy of Resistance" written by long-time collaborator László Krasznahorkai it is as uncompromising as the original text and Tarr's previous cinematic works, and will bring your attention span to its limits due to its extremely slow, yet sublimely otherworldly pace. As always when Krasznahorkai and Tarr set out on a new project, the action is of profound metaphysical relevance with cosmological principles at war, but nevertheless deeply rooted in social realism, in which one can read Hungarian disenchanted life before and/or after the fall of communism, references to wars and uprisings, to false prophets, fools and opportunists pulling the strings from behind the curtain. What is apparent from the get-go is that the film defies conventions. Stylistically it is nothing less than a revelation, even for Tarr adepts, provided you admit to the created mood. Photography is in striking black and white, all around aesthetically superb essays in motion - and above all perfectly timed, an essential key element in shots that last several minutes. Every scene forms a visual unit in itself, composed meticulously, executed flawlessly, enhanced either by absolute silence, precise sound or Mihály Vig's incomparable melancholic music on the soundtrack. "Werckmeister Harmonies" is much more than a movie, a unique work of art that delves deep and stirs profoundly. Essential viewing.

You're either with us or against us

[bmsavage · 10/10 · 22 April 2003]

Separates the realistic depressives (Europeans) from the misguidedly optimistic (Americans). Former will see it as as true a reflection of human experience as one could put to screen. Latter will feel cheated out of 145 minutes of their cinematic viewing lives. Post-film discussion guaranteed to break up even the most hardy of relationships. Be warned.

Basically a hungarian goulash whose recipe will remain forever secret. I sensed a hint of the Glass Bead Game, some 2001 A Space Odyssey, a little of Moby Dick, a heavy sprinkling of Tarkovsky and just a few cloves of Candide meets Myshkin. But there is plenty more in there to be discovered.

What is it about? I guess its about the sadness and isolation that sensitive and artistic Eastern European men feel when they look at their less refined brethren and the political and social history in which they participate. It is their disappointment that the universe does not reflect the beauty that they see in themselves and their relationship with the cosmos. A very self indulgent lot... But they put their time to good use for my money

For those who enjoy desiccation, its all here. The fall of the human soul, the imperfection of emotional expression, revolution as stasis, fear as self projection, and countless other ideas that might run through your head whilst watching the evening TV.

Go and see this film. I guarantee you will be moved to tears at least once and its a better film than you will give it credit for on leaving the cinema - like it or not. All in all 10/10. Watch out for the echoes of the blue whale in the mental hospital. Therein I am sure, lies the answer...

Layered, complex, challenging, rewarding

[clthing · 10/10 · 25 January 2002]

This movie when taken at face value is baffling and confusing. There is imagery that seems nonsensical if not downright weird, and there are scenes that seem to go on well past when they should have ended. You basically have two choices when faced with these long intervals allowed by the director. 1. Reject the movie, and this is easy to do, because its uncomfortable to sit there watching people walk with no talking for five minutes, or 2. Engage with the movie. By engaging with movie, I mean force yourself to think about what different symbols of the movie mean, and consider that everything in the movie is there for a reason. The key is to contemplate the two central metaphors or images of the film - The idea of the The Werkmeister's Harmonies, and the symbolism of the circus show, and to extend these interpretations to political organization and philosophy of science. The director himself has been elusive at explaining his imagery, and I think in a way this is the point. There are countless movies (Hollywood, and independent) that simply tell you what to think, leaving you the viewer as the passive receiver of information. This movie really forces you to engage with the story and bring your own interpretations and thoughts to it, in order to derive meaning. If you don't do this, the two and a half hours of the movie can be a miserable experience, but if you put the effort in, you will be amazed at how the movie continues to reward. Put it this way, my wife and I saw this movie and spent the next two hours in a coffee shop talking about nothing but the movie, and the conversation was of the exciting, "And what do you think that meant . . . and how did this fit with that part . . . oh yeah, that's great that works . . . or lets use this interpretation as a placeholder for now since we need to fill in some blanks." A great stimulating conversation. Name another movie of the past year that could inspire the same kind of conversation. Even if you can, if you're being honest, you would have to admit that movies like this one are very rare.

Who Knows What Evil Lurks in the Hearts of Men?

[ip7412413189 · 7/10 · 21 September 2014]

"The Shadow knows."

Let me first point out that this modern B&W film is not for everybody. The slowly developing plot is conveyed through a series of lengthy takes. People are often seen standing motionless or performing mundane tasks, such as reading and eating bland meals. Most action scenes are nothing more than various perspectives of people walking, marching or running in silence. And, it is not until halfway through the film before the story actually becomes compelling. Events reach a frightening climax when a mob of angry citizens ransacks a hospital. However, the viewer must come to his/her own understanding of how or why the tragedy occurred.

As for my interpretation, the film represents the Soviet takeover of Hungary during the post WWII era. It insinuates that the Soviets deliberately provoked social unrest so as to provide a justifiable context for a military takeover. Those who naively cooperated with the Soviets became puppets. Others who opposed the Soviets were either killed or ostracized. The big 'fish out of water' represents the elite members of society, who were rendered utterly powerless and useless.

The story centers around János Valuska, who may reflect Béla Tarr's own misplaced youth. Undaunted by the solar eclipse that will soon overshadow the whole community, the artistically inspired János directs and narrates a performance for a motley crew of intoxicated misfits in a local bar. Trustworthy, caring and respectful, János enjoys a modest yet peaceful existence with his close knit, extended family. Uncle György is another idealist, living in the abstract world of his own musical imagination. Unlike his outgoing nephew, however, György is a reclusive reactionary. A respected pianist, György believes that music has somehow been corrupted by his predecessor, Andreas Werckmeister.

A new exhibit has arrived in town, featuring a great whale and a foreign prince. Apparently, this public demonstration has already caused much commotion in neighboring towns, and once again trouble appears to be brewing. Aunt Tünde tries to organize a committee to restore order. György wants nothing to do with this 'media circus', but in order to avoid confronting his wife directly, he reluctantly agrees to be the chairman. János goes to see the whale and eventually realizes that the exhibit is indeed a diabolical threat to the community, but he still does not understand how or why. And, when all the smoke and debris has finally settled, he is left even more clueless than he had been to start.

A modern day meditative masterpiece

[Aditya_Gokhale · 10/10 · 16 May 2012]

A small town. A drunk room; a rather dreary bar with two big lights hanging from the ceiling. Village simpletons falling all over the floor with an overdose of drinks. "You tubs of beer"..the bartender calls them! At closing time, a wide-eyed, gaunt, but seemingly popular young man walks in. He is Janos Valuska (Lars Rudolph). He uses the drunks at the bar as props and demonstrates the Solar Eclipse and the effects of this phenomenon on the behavior of the mortal beings of the earth. The scene lasts for the first 10-12 minutes and ends with a melancholic, haunting score by Mihaly Vig. This single scene is so beautiful, it sets the tone for what's to come.

There is a shroud of ambiguity over Hungarian filmmaker Bela Tarr's "Werckmeister Harmonies" (co-directed by Ágnes Hranitzky). There is communication that is very vague. Things are spoken about something bad that happened before and something terrible that's perhaps about to happen. And in some towns, they say it has already begun. Is it the advent of the apocalypse? At the center of this mystery is a stuffed giant whale, a part of a "circus" that has arrived in town. This circus also features the enigmatic "Prince". With the coming of the whale and the Prince there is suddenly a 'lack of harmony' within the quietude of the town. Foreigners have started encroaching. There are stories that they have started rioting and looting. The whale is perhaps the reason. Most people seem to regard the whale as an abomination. Only Janos sees it as a bounty of nature, a miracle of God...Janos is clearly an optimist. Or is it the Prince who is behind all the turbulence? There are all kinds of stories. The dead whale and the Prince are somehow responsible for creating ripples in the otherwise still waters of the quiet little town. They have already spread their wings on other parts of the country. But are all these just urban legends?

One of the main characters, György Eszter (Peter Fitz), speaks about how the musical intervals and harmonies as we know them over the centuries are "false" and the result of a huge scandal brought about by a certain Andreas Werckmeister. The title alludes to the harmonies or lack thereof owing to some funny business brought about by Werckmeister as a result of an "unhinged arrogance" that wished to take possession of the natural harmonies of the Gods! This one scene and the philosophy within has a strong connection with the overall theme of the film...lack of harmony and how it is brought about!

Eszter's former wife Aunt Tunde (Hanna Schygulla) has an agenda of her own...she is out to initiate a "clean town" project with the help of her current lover, the Police Chief, for which she needs her former husband's help. "Our Janos" (as he is referred to by all townsfolk who like him) is entrusted the task of convincing Eszter to use his command and popularity to get support of the movement. Eszter reluctantly agrees. "I've paid for it and I may pay for it all my life", he says. But what exactly? Tarr doesn't think that is important. We never get to know. He clearly loves ambiguity.

Tarr also loves extremely long takes, stark Black and White cinematography (beautiful at that), a somber mood, melancholic score, a languorous pace, bleak imagery and an overall sense of doom and despair. There are long philosophical monologues which are almost poetic and need to be heard at least twice to grasp. There is a distinct "meditative" feel to the proceedings. It is not difficult to spot the heavy Andrei Tarkovsky influence here, just as in other films of his. But Tarr's pictures are less abstract than those of the great Russian filmmaker. "Werckmeister Harmonies" is mostly materialism heavy but there certainly is some symbolism embedded in the narrative. The "Prince" who travels with the whale, for example, is a mysterious faceless creature who seems to have immense powers. A clock that was dead for years started ticking again as he went past! And he apparently also incites rioting. He doesn't believe in any greater power or authority either. Is he then the "Prince of darkness" with a thirst for destruction?

Tarr demonstrates his ability to create a powerful impact through the marriage of visuals and sound. On one hand there is the scene in which Vig's soulful music accompanies, like Janos appreciating the whale and being awestruck by its enormity. And then there is the scene in a newspaper factory. Long monologues and ambient sounds serve as a background to Janos' mundane activities being filmed, and later the camera slowly pans to the person delivering the monologue! Then, of the several long tracking shots, a particular shot of Janos and Eszter walking adjacent to each other in an almost synchronized march of their feet (with only the sound of their feet and a lunch box providing the sound...carrying on for a good 2-3 minutes!) can't help but bring a smile on your face. Apparently, for one other scene, in which a lot of people are marching together to reach a destination, Tarr was asked why the scene is that long. Tarr simply answered "that's how long it took to get there!"

"Werckmeister Harmonies", like any other Bela Tarr film, is surely not for the impatient viewer. It is for that segment of film lovers who love their films grave; and who don't mind the scenes playing out real time, with the editing process being allowed to take the back seat as long as the final product delivers. Suffice to say, Tarr manages to engulf the viewer under his spell and guarantees a hypnotic audiovisual experience, one that culminates into a powerful ending that leaves a lasting impact....

Score: 10/10.

The whole is not quite greater than the sum of its parts

[aklcraigc · 7/10 · 17 September 2013]

The movie starts well enough, establishing a stark, gloomy atmosphere. We see the local postman Janos doing various things, in the process introducing us to some of the other characters in the story. Basically the story from here, in a nutshell, is that a sideshow consisting of a stuffed whale and a character known as 'the prince' (who we never see directly) arrives in the town square. The townsfolk start to gather in the square, becoming progressively more agitated as the film progresses, finally they go on some type of rampage, sacking the local hospital (it is implied that this is somehow at the behest of 'the prince'). It seems then the army moves in to round up the locals, and for some reason not fully explained, Janos is deposited in the local asylum. There are various small subplots which go nowhere (some type of local power play with Janos' relatives and some kind of musical analogy for the plot seems to be floated).

This is more than enough for your average art film to hang its hat on, the problem more comes in the quality of ideas over the length of the movie. One can detect the influences of various directors, the most obvious being Tarkovsky and the long takes; at the start of the movie these long takes are full of movement and interest; however, as we progress, the motif becomes overused and dull. In the end, it seems the long takes of people walking take on an almost comic effect, with the director dragging it on just long enough to make you squirm before introducing a new element.

One never really develops any empathy with any of the characters, most are only hastily drawn eastern European clichés, the main character starts to chew the scenery a little at the end, the actor seems somewhat unsure how Janos' mental state is meant to progress. Overall, it's as if the director spends a lot of time creating an interesting setting, then isn't quite sure what to do with it over the duration of the film. Werckmeister Harmonies is by no means a bad film, it just doesn't scale to the heights it so obviously aspires to.

A truck is crossing the street!!!!!!! Oh my God, watch it before you die !!!!!

[webbobilbao · 1/10 · 26 December 2013]

A circus attraction and a mysterious prince arrive very very (but very very!) slowly to a village where it is cold and the inhabitants are afraid of something. That's what you notice while you see how a very common sad guy commonly and sadly walks, commonly and sadly wanders, commonly and sadly eats, commonly and sadly works. He commonly and sadly looks after an old guy who is obsessed with the musical tempered systems that try to imitate the celestial harmonies: so hopefully, he says, all the tunings should be just, otherwise the Bach preludes sound badly, and blah, blah, blah....

That's the cultural stuff Bela Tarr found some day so he could use it in a new movie and look profound and exquisite. Because, if he finds that subject truly amazing, why does he use such an stupid piano new-age music for the first scene, that repulsive description of an eclipse with fake drunkards, so pedantic? Beeeeeeghhhhrpl.

Apart from that evident evidence, Tarr shows you everything very slowly (unbereable the scene when the truck crosses a big street, at 5km/h). But that slowness has no justification: it is the exact mirror of the stupid American action movies ("Gladiator", "Transporter"...) that show you everything very very fast so you can have the feeling of "frenetic action", which is what it's "really cool", oh yeah! These slow movies are also done to make the director and the believers feel that same feeling: "we are slow, we are really cool!, oh yeah!, amen!". Because in this movie there is no reason for slowness: there are no details, the story doesn't change, the characters are uninteresting and are never seen in a different way during the film, there is no sense of humour... "I'm slow, so I'm special", that's all.

It's in b/w and some people say it has a dream-like atmosphere. I think that in dreams the events don't happen so slowly, we don't need to dream every second that we are eating in the dream, or walking, and there is a kind of brutal presence of the unexpected, of elements that break the "artistic direction" of the dream, something that Mr.Tarr will surely not find "cool" enough.

I didn't like it very much.