Werckmeister Harmonies

I’m a cinematic Goldilocks who likes his films not too fast and not too slow, but just right, matched to the duration of my heartbeat and the endurance of my pants seat. Bela Tarr’s stripped-down follow-up to his notorious 7 1/2 hour Satantango may be only one-third as long, but still exceeds my patience for exquisitely composed and fluidly protracted shots that run, or rather walk, the full length of a film reel, 11 minutes plus. Despite his anointing by the most serious of critics (notably Susan Sontag), it took me three tries to get through Tarr’s dark Hungarian fable, and with that I had to hit the fast-forward button repeatedly. The striking images are more black than white and the sinuous camera reveals more ordinary ugliness than transcendent beauty, but I can glimpse the appeal of such self-assured filmmaking. There’s something there, to be sure, some hypnotic power and some precise evocation of wonder and despair, but it is not an experience I would urge upon anyone who doesn’t feel up to the test. (2000, dvd, n.) *NR*