It's the cumulative alliance of a number of contrasted themes that derives the film's irony. This seven-hour European epic takes place in an abandoned Hungarian farm machinery plant. There live a small band of hobos who will do anything they can to leave the. The actual emotions may be different, but the. Amazon.ca - Buy Satantango at a low price; free shipping on qualified orders. See reviews & details on a wide selection of Blu-ray & DVDs, both new & used. Speaking of a little crazy, I've heard Jack Nicholson ask Batman if he's ever ! Yeah, references to Tim Burton's . If my assumption of B. Well, I don't know if I can say that this film forces you to do anything, because you don't have to suffer through it, yet that hasn't stop the snobby critics or, well, me, that one jerk who hated sitting through this (Thank goodness I had the internet on the side). Hey, I just did it for the story (They seriously do have t- shirts that read, . Musicality is unevenly used and sometimes misused, and visual style is about as often misused as it is attractive, so if nothing else is consistent at bringing some kind of life to this tiresome drama, it's the performances, because when I say that this film has no script, I literally mean that this film just had a script for the sake of having a script, so most of what material there is was improvised, and while there are times where the improvisation gets to be about as aimless as the . There are strengths in this film, it's just that they're so outweighed by the missteps, and for an impossibly unreasonable amount of time at that, yet you can spot them here and there, especially when they go backed by a rarity: an effective moment in the telling of what story there is. I wouldn't say that the film is quite as unwatchable as something like . That's right, people, the film is seven hours and a quarter of arrogant and abusive tedium on a level beyond comprehension, and the best thing that you can say about it is that it is sometimes depressing, but make no bones about it, the patient are bound to run into a few moments that give you a drop of what the pretentious critics could be talking about, limited though they may be. Of course, on the whole, this film requires just too much blasted patience to only have a few enjoyable moments, and while there is enough realization to the film for it to not be an unpalatable torture, watching this film is a challenge that I can't even begin to recommend, because it doesn't even handle plotting all that well when it actually does take on something resembling a story. There's a whole lot of rambling, but hardly any exposition, and a whole lot of wandering, but hardly any direction, so what you end up with is a sprawling character drama that pays only so much focus to its characters, which would be easier to forgive if there weren't so many extra- distancingly questionable character actions, most of which are forced in to supplement the artistic . Whether they're whispering dialogue much too often or just standing around doing nothing much longer than your average Joe, the characters come off as not too much more than mere components to the artistic steadiness which drives this non- narrative, though you quickly forget this, certainly not because the characters are well- handled enough to be ever so slightly less than thoroughly unengaging, but because questionable characterization is overshadowed by a substantially more problematic component to the film's deliberate steadiness, a torturously bone- dry atmosphere, whose thoughtful attention to the environment proves to be occasionally immersive, but mostly dulls things down beyond belief, not sometimes, or often, or half of the time, or even three quarters of the time, but nearly throughout the entirety of this film whose running time is among the longest in cinematic history. Limply paced and utterly quiet, if you're lucky (Oh, the unbearable white noise of rain, wind and footsteps, so many footsteps), this film has been called by many to be consistently engrossing, and that statement is so beyond conceivability that it qualifies more as a blatant factual inaccuracy than a questionable opinion, because the film is always bland, to one degree or another, and is mostly boring, and I would be more willing to forgive that and conclude that the final product is, I don't know, mediocre or something, - like such other tedious, but reasonably tasteful art pieces as, say, . At about seven hours and a quarter, or 4. Between the opening credits and an introductory narration is a slowly wandering tracking shot of cows making their way across the farm around which this film's . The film is not quite as unwatchable as I feared, but it's just too artistically misguided to be nearly as enjoyable as it probably should have been, and films like this almost shake my faith in my dream job, because, as a film critic, I sometimes just don't feel right being associated with a community that, in a fashion believed to be brilliant, rather than downright stupid, lauds something as an artistic revelation, or genius, or, Lord forbid, one of the greatest cinematic triumphs of all time just for being different, when really, it's nothing more than torturously overblown abuse of snobbiness behind what could be anything from an intellectual making a stroke of utter artistic insanity, to some kind of a sick joke which tests both the endurance of rational moviegoers and the level of the pretentious' ignorance, but is either way barely watchable for an hour- and- a- half, a waste of time at two- and- a- half hours, infuriating at three hours and the ultimate challenge to patience at about seven hours and a quarter, and while, with the help of the glory that is internet time- killing, I was able to qualify for an . Girl walking with her dead cat - S.
Satantango, first published in Hungary in 1985 and now regarded as a classic, is a monster of a novel: compact, cleverly constructed, often exhilarating, and. From the winner of the 2015 Man Booker. The Paperback of the Satantango by L. FREE Shipping on $25 or more!
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