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Béla Tarr is clearly unfamiliar with the tool of editing. His “Werckmeister Harmonies,” a trudging, lumbering 2 ½ hour slog very much reminiscent of the dead whale carcass at its center, is quite the maddening experience. Is a nearly four minute, seemingly looped tracking shot of two men walking side by side without a word to each other necessary, when the shot could have easily skipped all that and jumped to their destination arrival? Debatable, and the camerawork is often impressive on a purely technical level anyway. Is any of it particularly interesting? Not for this viewer. Tarr’s message of innate human disruption, spiritual isolation, and the clash between natural order and one of a more man-made inclination is stuff worth exploring. Here, he takes an indulgently – and depressingly dour – long time to do so, with little sustainable interest.

EDIT: I need to see this again, as I watched and liked Sátántangó. Perhaps now that I know what to expect going into it I’ll appreciate it more.

Werckmeister Harmonies
2000

Directed by Bela Tarr
Written by Laszio Krasznahorkai
Music by Mihaly Vig
Cinematography by Patrick de Ranter
Editing by Agnes Hranitzky

Based on the novel, The Melancholy of Resistance, by Laszio Krasznahorkai, Werckmeister Harmonies concerns a small Hungarian town and the controlling power of a travelling circus advertising the giant carcass of a whale, overseen by an unseen, obscure character, “the Prince.” Is this an allusion to a devil? Deceiver? Some embodiment of evil? One would think so, but along with all that is the ambiguity and apparent charisma of the character. One is reminded (perhaps only in a vague, unrelated way) of Godard’s Detective and two characters, both referred to as “the Prince” and representing an ambiguous and bizarrely existential relationship (they have nothing in common with each other in other words, but must’ve been mentioned for a reason, right?). Whatever Tarr’s “Prince” may represent, it is clear that he is to be seen as a corruptor, a charlatan who profits from the susceptibility of the masses.

There’s a haunting (and very real) similarity to H.P. Lovecraft’s favourite subject: the possessed town and the mysterious force which possesses them (a la` The Shadow Over Innsmouth). Of course, that isn’t exactly what Werckmeister Harmonies is about, but there is a wonderful sequence involving a long, dark night and rampaging crowds, and even early on the film, while the protagonist is shivering down a dimly lit street, the camera moves backwards until only a bubble of light is seen by which the protagonist is still visible. Darkness is a major theme as well as extreme cold, and all the characters are drained of saturation (literally) in the translation to black and white.

Janos, a philosopher who instructs the local drunks in cosmology, is the central character of this story and represents the way of “reason” and “open-mindedness.” He serves as the audience connector, contrasting with the aimless, gullible, and superstitious townsfolk. Janos’ uncle, Gyorgy Eszter, is somewhat of an “elder” of the town, having an, often-alluded to, crowd-pleasing way with words. He is seen recording his philosophical musings on theorist, Andreas Werckmeister, and his (Werckmeister’s) influence on not only the convention of music theory, but the general philosophical outlook of man. Eszter suggests that a new way of thinking should be pursued; one in which a new form of theory is be established which would serve, more suitably, the harmony of man and music.

There is some startling imagery typical of Tarr’s style. A multitude of shivering, zombie-like men loiter around the circus procession (such as it is). They hover as if awaiting some unspoken event; brooding and fanatical in their silent vigil – just one of the many memorable, yet spare scenes.

Composed of only thirty-nine shots, Tarr has complete mastery over the cinematic form; exercising restraint in execution and exuberance for the mundane in a truly virtuoso and “effortless” directing style. Tarr was made to direct this film.

Now, is it a perfect film? By no means. Perhaps it’s almost contradictory to say so, but Tarr doesn’t afford enough time to the story. Considering one of Tarr’s best films is the 7-hour Satantango (1994) and that his style is characteristic of slow, methodical minimalism; it sounds ludicrous, but it must be said. I suppose adapting any novel to the screen accurately must allow for some inevitable loss in the translation, but although, Tarr has still created a wonderfully vast and convincing “world,” he doesn’t pursue it to the lengths that it could potentially be pursued. That may sound like nitpicking (and it is), but the film is a very different creature from the novel and, for better or worse, simpler and more general as well.

Overall Rating: * * * * * (5 out of 6)

In Bela Tarr’s mysterious, slowly unfolding world, there is trouble ahead when a circus group comes to town. This is not a Fellinesque kind of circus. There are no sad clowns to be found here. Something far more ominious is at play. An embalmed killer whale acts as the Troyan horse in the story, while the circus villains plot havoc deep in the shadows. The accompanying DVD booklet notes that the film is comprised of exactly thirty-nine shots. Every single one lingers on the scene as if to draw you into that moment completely. And it does. There is such a timeless quality to this movie watching experience. More than anyone else, Tarr reminds me of Antonioni, but there is more fluidity and earthiness to his style. This is a unique cinematic experience.

This is one of the best film ever made by bella tarr.,

very unique and original, because bella tarr seems didn’t really care about the story (he admit that he despise the story in a film) and focused on whats real and more initial for him (the emotion development of a characters, the natural reaction of a human being to a certain event), this movie is just trying to tell us how the people of one isolated village will react to the arrival of the huge whale and the prince in some circus, it is as simple as that, but with bella tarr in charge, the result is this masterpiece.,
this powerful, beautiful, dark, and haunting movie.,

every single scene in this movie is not only very beautiful, thanks to the stupendous black and white cinematography, and tarr’s elegant style of directing with a very long takes of a scene as his signature, but it also very powerful and affecting, because every scene is very realistic, so delicately executed, and completed with brilliant performance by the casts., as a result, there are so much great scene that worth remembering from this movie, from the ingenious opening cosmic scene, the whale scene, the naked old man scene, until the beautiful closing scene.,

this movie kinda remind me of tarkovski’s masterpiece ‘stalker’, because they had many things in common, like the beautiful visual-image, the glorious word, using some symbolism, and shares same emotion for the viewer while and after watching the movie, but i can’t decide which movie is better, they are both hauntingly beautiful in their own way..

A powerful film. A very, very dark film as well. Deep, dark tone to it. The film is about an innocent lad who believes in the good of people and is hopelessly optimistic. His optimism leads him to fall the furthest in the aftermath: into madness. In the film, his inanimate surrogate is easily “The Whale”, which at first is shrouded in mystery and given plenty of praise by Valuska himself. The Whale’s otherworldly allure inspires endless wonder inside Valuska. By the end of the film, after the arson and slaughter, like Valuska sitting motionless and defeated in the hospital, The Whale is exposed to a raw reality. All of the mystery that was previously caused by the trailer’s sheltering shadow has been stripped away to reveal a pathetic stuffed whale patched together carelessly. Such is Valuska, the innocent fool, hurt by the cruelty of man.

Syntactically, I love the two shot sequence of the men marching in the dark, which cuts to the small doorway. Then the angry men flood on through. Also, the slow shot of the trailer passing by making it seem so massive is another great shot. There is something hypnotic about his long takes. Yes yes, Tarkovsky used long takes as well but truthfully I don’t think Bela Tarr’s tone is similar to the Russian great much at all. I place this film’s dark feel, as well as his earlier Damnation, closer to David Lynch’s work. A slow, mysterious sense of time and anticipation constantly loom overhead. That isn’t to say I become impatient with either director. Quite the opposite, I am enthralled and engrossed in the mindful activity of watching the images married with sound (ahh…film).

The Facets DVD version suffers a few ugly side effects. The Hungarian dubbed voiceovers that accompany several of the character’s dialogue is utterly dismal. I am irked as is when in films the audio track is mismatched from the video (always most noticeable during dialogue), so unmentionable “dubbing” is like murder in the first. Also, the transfer is rather rough. It seems to catch and snag during playback which makes the video seem choppy. These types of technical mistakes bog down the film’s presentation. It keeps reminding me that I’m watching a screen periodically. If not for that, the film’s thick lather of atmosphere would remain totally immersive until “el fin”.

This film portrays life in a small Hungarian village during the winter. János, a mystic man talks about life and an apocalypse that is near. When a circus comes to town people are excited to see the ‘prince’. A giant whale in a trailor is set on a square “This mysterious creature from the sea has come from the far-off oceans”, to keep people’s attention. The dissapointment is big when the prince won’t come and the crowd is becoming impatient.

An ethereal, poetic and mesmerizing film of Hungary’s greatest director Béla Tarr. A film that contains incredible long takes, beautiful (apocalyptic) photography and memorable scenes. The sphere in this film is a bit depressive, combined with the beautiful, intense music of Mihály Víg it is a great combination. Werckmeister Harmóniák is a masterpiece.

Something wicked this way comes. Werckmeister Harmonies is a mesmerizing fable of innocence, pestilence, and loss. Bela Tarr fashions austere, languid shots of a battered Hungarian village where the chilled inhabitants chop wood, swallow thick lagers, and gulp thin broth. Melancholy turns to murder as a mysterious traveling carnival casts a shadow across the village like the eclipse that’s orchestrated in the single-shot opening sequence. No inspirational parable here, the meek inherit nothing but the insane asylum. Inheriting what’s left are those like the character of Tünde, coolly played by Hanna Schygulla —somewhere between Eva Perón and Hillary Clinton. Hope that Tarr’s is a cautionary tale of Soviet tyranny and not a foretelling of American deprivation. Not to be missed.