"...an experience comparable to starting down the road with an empty sack then, over the course of the journey, having it weighed down steadily with rocks until you can't go on." - Nick Pinkerton, Village Voice
On January 3, 1889, in Turin, Italy, Friedrich Nietzsche steps out of the doorway of number six, Via Carlo Albert. Not far from him, a cab driver is having trouble with a stubborn horse. The horse refuses to move, whereupon the driver loses his patience and takes his whip to it. Nietzsche puts an end to the brutal scene, throwing his arms around the horse's neck, sobbing. After this, he lies motionless and silent for two days on a divan until he loses consciousness and his mind. Somewhere in the countryside, the driver of the cab lives with his daughter and the horse. Outside, a windstorm rages. Immaculately photographed in Bela Tarr's long takes, THE TURIN HORSE is the final statement from a master filmmaker.
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Yes, relentlessly bleak. But this film has something to say about the human spirit's capacity to endure. I am reminded of Beckett.
The Turin Horse is the culmination of all of Béla Tarr's work. With each film that came before, he pushed to create a new kind of cinema. There aren't many films that are perfect, but this is one of them.
A film exposing quiet desperation and showing that life does not always get better.. Here is a chance to "walk a mile" in their shoes....Beautifully filmed, one can almost taste the dust and smell and feel the mushy flesh of the boiled potatoes...
For the first hour you wonder what is going on. For the second hour you realize nothing much is going on (e.g. you are actually watching a movie that will shoot, repeatedly, someone getting water out of a well in real time). Finally, somewhere just over two hours you begin to admire what is going on!
Beautiful scenery, in and out, with the black and white worth a masterpiece. Somber photography, seemed monotonous but you hardly wait for the next scene, what is going to happen, who is going to show, what is over the hill.the music was perfect for each scene. The constant relentless wind just accomplished the tortured personas.
Slow, bleak and beautiful. Like watching paint dry, in the Sistine Chapel.