Style over substance.
That is the plaint of many a critic when they come across a film or book or any work of art they simply do not like, but which has undeniable merit, at least technically, if not in a few other measures, as well. But, the fact is that my opening words have little to do with most of the gripes labeled such. In fact, the reality is that while there indeed are such artworks for which the opening plaint is valid, far more often the correct plaint is good style, poor execution. Perhaps I have not encountered before a better example of this than the latest film by Hungarian director Bela Tarr, 2007's The Man From London (A Londoni Férfi). Anyone familiar with any of the later films of Bela Tarr, when he reputedly became Bela Tarr- filmmeister, will recognize that, stylistically, this film is brilliant. Where it fails, however, is in the way most films fail- a poor screenplay; and in the way that great filmmakers often do, once they've reached a certain artistic level- they start ripping off their own greater, earlier works (and this is a Tarr work, through and through- despite the claim that Ágnes Hranitzky was a co-director).
As for the DVD, put out by Artificial Eye, in Region 2, its subpar re: their usual quality. The DVD subtitles and dubbing, as mentioned, are bad, although only the subtitles would be the DVD's fault. The film is shown in a 16:9 aspect ratio. But the package comes with very skimpy extras- a mediocre interview with Tarr, who lapses between English and Hungarian, and not even a booklet nor theatrical trailer, much less an audio commentary. Even the DVD sleeve wrongly lists the film's time at approximately 90 minutes. This is true if 130 minutes, or 40 minutes' leeway can be considered approximate.
Also annoying is scanning the reviews of the film and seeing so may critics caught cheating, yet again. I hate critical cribbing- the practice of not even engaging a work of art, but merely copying ideas or claims made by others and grafting them into one's own work. The two most egregious examples of this that stick in my craw are the claims regarding character names that simply are not so in Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup and Alain Resnais's Last Year In Marienbad. This practice shows why criticism has fallen to desuetude in most cultural contexts. In this film, the most repeated error is one grafted from the film's ad campaign- that there was a murder. Yet, seemingly no critics have watched the scene of the fight on the pier, nor recognized that there is no visual evidence of foul play in the presumed death of Brown. So, why repeat these fallacies? My guess is that, as film critic Ray Carney has often noted, most of what passes for film criticism, these days, is merely a variant form of the film's advertising campaign. And this ties back to the idea that this film is all about style over substance. Yes, there's not much substance to this film, but had it been better executed, in terms of the mise-en-scenes, the scoring, a lack of poor self-plagiarism, etc., the thin substance of the film would have been a non-issue. Some defenders of the film even try to gloss over the poor screenplay by claiming the plot simply 'meander.' But this is no more or less true than in any other of Tarr's films. It has no qualitative bearing on why this film fails and the others succeed, often brilliantly. No, meandering is not its sin, unconnectedness is. The individual scenes (no matter if well or poorly crafted) never cohere with each other; they are a jagged hodgepodge. The upshot is that Tarr may be on a long downward slide from here. I hope not, for the sake of cinema, but he just seems to have nothing left to say and no original ways to say it. Werckmeister Harmonies may have been his acme. And calling a black and white film, set mostly at night, a film noir, does not cover its sins. It simply is not film noir, not even by Tarrian standards. Perhaps the attempt to make a film noir so perplexed Tarr that it is the main reason for this film's failing, but that is speculation, not criticism. Tarr is famously quoted in an interview as stating, 'I believe that you keep making the same film throughout your whole life.' More accurately, this film disproves that, unless one equates self-plagiarism from better works with making the same film.
Nevertheless, as disappointing as The Man From London is, it is not the total garbage that most Hollywood films ejaculate into the culture. It is only a 'relative' failure, from an acknowledged master of the art form; therefore, still a good, solid film, and one worth watching, if only to use as a ground in comparison to his better, earlier films. And, hopefully, like Ceylan- from his last film, Tarr will recognize this failure, and return to his better form in his next film. That's one lesson Hollywood never seems to learn.
That is the plaint of many a critic when they come across a film or book or any work of art they simply do not like, but which has undeniable merit, at least technically, if not in a few other measures, as well. But, the fact is that my opening words have little to do with most of the gripes labeled such. In fact, the reality is that while there indeed are such artworks for which the opening plaint is valid, far more often the correct plaint is good style, poor execution. Perhaps I have not encountered before a better example of this than the latest film by Hungarian director Bela Tarr, 2007's The Man From London (A Londoni Férfi). Anyone familiar with any of the later films of Bela Tarr, when he reputedly became Bela Tarr- filmmeister, will recognize that, stylistically, this film is brilliant. Where it fails, however, is in the way most films fail- a poor screenplay; and in the way that great filmmakers often do, once they've reached a certain artistic level- they start ripping off their own greater, earlier works (and this is a Tarr work, through and through- despite the claim that Ágnes Hranitzky was a co-director).
As for the DVD, put out by Artificial Eye, in Region 2, its subpar re: their usual quality. The DVD subtitles and dubbing, as mentioned, are bad, although only the subtitles would be the DVD's fault. The film is shown in a 16:9 aspect ratio. But the package comes with very skimpy extras- a mediocre interview with Tarr, who lapses between English and Hungarian, and not even a booklet nor theatrical trailer, much less an audio commentary. Even the DVD sleeve wrongly lists the film's time at approximately 90 minutes. This is true if 130 minutes, or 40 minutes' leeway can be considered approximate.
Also annoying is scanning the reviews of the film and seeing so may critics caught cheating, yet again. I hate critical cribbing- the practice of not even engaging a work of art, but merely copying ideas or claims made by others and grafting them into one's own work. The two most egregious examples of this that stick in my craw are the claims regarding character names that simply are not so in Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup and Alain Resnais's Last Year In Marienbad. This practice shows why criticism has fallen to desuetude in most cultural contexts. In this film, the most repeated error is one grafted from the film's ad campaign- that there was a murder. Yet, seemingly no critics have watched the scene of the fight on the pier, nor recognized that there is no visual evidence of foul play in the presumed death of Brown. So, why repeat these fallacies? My guess is that, as film critic Ray Carney has often noted, most of what passes for film criticism, these days, is merely a variant form of the film's advertising campaign. And this ties back to the idea that this film is all about style over substance. Yes, there's not much substance to this film, but had it been better executed, in terms of the mise-en-scenes, the scoring, a lack of poor self-plagiarism, etc., the thin substance of the film would have been a non-issue. Some defenders of the film even try to gloss over the poor screenplay by claiming the plot simply 'meander.' But this is no more or less true than in any other of Tarr's films. It has no qualitative bearing on why this film fails and the others succeed, often brilliantly. No, meandering is not its sin, unconnectedness is. The individual scenes (no matter if well or poorly crafted) never cohere with each other; they are a jagged hodgepodge. The upshot is that Tarr may be on a long downward slide from here. I hope not, for the sake of cinema, but he just seems to have nothing left to say and no original ways to say it. Werckmeister Harmonies may have been his acme. And calling a black and white film, set mostly at night, a film noir, does not cover its sins. It simply is not film noir, not even by Tarrian standards. Perhaps the attempt to make a film noir so perplexed Tarr that it is the main reason for this film's failing, but that is speculation, not criticism. Tarr is famously quoted in an interview as stating, 'I believe that you keep making the same film throughout your whole life.' More accurately, this film disproves that, unless one equates self-plagiarism from better works with making the same film.
Nevertheless, as disappointing as The Man From London is, it is not the total garbage that most Hollywood films ejaculate into the culture. It is only a 'relative' failure, from an acknowledged master of the art form; therefore, still a good, solid film, and one worth watching, if only to use as a ground in comparison to his better, earlier films. And, hopefully, like Ceylan- from his last film, Tarr will recognize this failure, and return to his better form in his next film. That's one lesson Hollywood never seems to learn.