This is the type of contemporary film that attempts to mask its weaknesses by recourse to b/w 'correct' cinematography, like the one we find in White Ribbon or in Pawlikowski films. Yet, neither the skeletal story nor the undeveloped characters enable this aesthetic decision to impress. Rather, the extremely unimaginative découpage turns the village into an indifferent and pictorial substitute for fear and exile.
Awfully belated – and all the more necessary – film about the Hungarian nation's responsibility in the Holocaust. Fittingly, the word 'Germans' is not once uttered. Writing and direction are bare-bones unsubtle, and rightfully so. Still, there is creativity on display, especially in Péter Rudolf's backwater overlord, a thinly veiled portrait of Viktor Orbán.
If this was based on a book, I would prefer to read the book. It would be great to have the narration switch between the inhabitants of the village as each one relives what happened during the war. Seeing the two men on screen so much is overkill. Perhaps that's an editing problem. It's good to have the avenging angels whose mere presence cause explosions and implosions, but there's sadly a lack of mystery.
1945 is an effective mélange of complimentary elements. It owes something to the aesthetic and slow-burn tensile strategies of Westerns like HIGH NOON and certain Leone epics; in some ways it resembles the nakedly political arty social realism of Andrzej Wajda; it would finally seem to find inspiration in Henri-Georges Clouzot's sly resistance allegory LE CORBEAU.I admire very much the elegance of the construction.