58 Szindbád

[skuhn8]

Recently watched Zoltan Huszarik's Sinbad (Szindbad) again and now feel compelled to comment on it. The first time I watched it when it first came out on DVD here I was left perplexed and a little unimpressed. I say a little because visually it was obviously stunning, but I couldn't help feel that this was another example of Hungarian artsiness for the sake of artsiness. When I turned to my World Cinema 5: Hungary book by Bryan Burns I found my conclusion essentially seconded. However, after subsequent viewings, I think this is now my favorite Hungarian film. There's so much there. What follows is Bryan Burns' take on the film as found in the above book (set off in quote blocks). I use this as a starting point for a few of my own observations.

Zoltan Huszarik was born in 1931 and joined the director's course at the Academy for Theatre and Film Art in 1950 but was advised to leave in 1953. He spent a number of years doing various jobs, some of them menial, before turning to the Academy, from which he graduated in 1961. He then became an assistant director and also worked in graphics and book illustration. His first film, the dreamy short, Elegia (Elegy, 1965), which he made for the Bela Balazs Studio with the cinematographer Janos Toth, drew widespread critical attention, and already indicates his taste for experimental narrative procedures. Two more short works followed, and then Sindbad (1971), a feature film which was awarded prizes abroad and confirmed Huszarik's growing reputation at home He continued making shorts, and worked for television and, more extensively radio and the stage. Csontvary, his second feature film and strikingly similar to the first, followed in 1979. Huszarik died in 1981.

Interesting to note that Sinbad's Zoltan Latinovits was slated to play Csontvary/Actor Z but had committed suicide during preliminaries. Huszarik followed suit upon completion of Csontvary: suicide. Only two feature films.

WARNING: SPOILERS THROUGHOUT THIS POINT ON:

Huszarik describes his films as "'pictography' - picture-writing", and that points to the best and worst of their qualities. All the films are exceptionally beautiful, if one considers beauty to be a matter of pictorial grace and nothing more. Individual stills from any of his works might properly be framed, and admired in a photographic gallery. But I find it hard to move from thinking of his films as collections of exquisite moments to thinking of them as interesting or even intelligent developments of a theme. Elegy is Huszarik's genre, and he is therefore obsessed with time, a devotee of aestheticized nostalgia, and concerned above all to fight off the advance of mortality. Like other elegists, he plays with chronology, seeking to destroy the connection between cause and effect and liberate his characters into a world of poetry. The fact that Huszarik chooses to make his major films about artists, figures who escape mortality and maybe thought, through their works, to live forever, is clearly germane. In films by Resnais such as Hiroshima mon amour (1959), some of these tropes also appear, but with a newness and passion which the Hungarian director never approaches. For me, despite the beauty, seriousness and bravery of his films, Huszarik is no more than an elegant fin de siecle anomaly to the hegemony of the documentary strain in his national cinema.

Burns provides a very valid comparison with Resnais' film on memory and loss, and to draw a further useful comparison I would suggest Olmi's Il Fidanzati for it's tone poem quality.

Sindbad appeared in the same year as Jancso's Red Psalm and seemed to herald an exciting and more aestheticized and formalist direction for the Hungarian cinema. Like the rest of Huszarik's small but distinctive oeuvre Sindbad depends more upon images, colours and movement than upon realistic storytelling. The film, which is based on the works of the early 20th century Hungarian novelist, Gyula Krudy, evokes the life and loves of the writer Sindbad, played by Zoltan Latinovits. Although Huszarik uses the characterizing materials we might expect - details of Sindbad's past and present, of literature, of his mistresses and marriage, and eventually of his death - these materials are presented in dreamy recollection and not as a regular sequence of events. Much of the film is composed of brief interludes in which Sindbad fondly thinks of some inamorata, speaks to or of her, recreates her seduction or remembers the good times they shared. We see that Sindbad's life has been governed by his art, but even more by the many beautiful women he has loved: as he says, correctly, "women have been very good to me". Krudy was a noted gourmet, and we also follow Sindbad to a restaurant where we watch him attentively preparing a bowl of soup and then eating a dish of pheasant with chestnuts. At the film's conclusion, bells toll, music is heard and Sindbad dies.

There are similarities of theme between Sindbad and Makk's Egy erkolcsos ejszaka (A Very Moral Night), and also instructive differences. Both are tales of boulevardier womanizing, but Huszarik has a concern with the relationship of memory to creativity which the lighter-hearted Makk entirely lacks. The aim of Sindbad is to map the sensibility of Sindbad (a convenient surrogate for Krudy himself) and, as with the later Csontvary, to point to the ways in which the life experiences of an artist provide the impetus for the works he will eventually write or paint. In both his films, Huszarik takes a Romantic view of the creative impulse. Thus, in Sindbad the eponymous hero is celebrated as a kind of mythic wanderer and the essence of his existence and art is offered for our approval. Yet, despite the warmth of Huszarik's regard and the splendour of Sandor Sara's images, our esteem for Sindbad is not unqualified. The film dwells on the pleasures of the senses, the delights of the moment and the life-enhancing joys of love, but it ends with a monitory death-scene, albeit a beautiful one. In addition, does not Sindbad seem crassly self-centred in the conduct of his affairs? Everything is told from his, male, point of view; the materials of the film are valued merely in terms of their usefulness to his needs and his writing; the women he meets are interchangeable, their function only to please him and to offer themselves willingly on the altar of his literary ambitions. In this, Sindbad s like A Very Moral Night and almost any 19th century French novel one might care to name. What is not in question, however, is the quality of Sindbad from a visual point of view: its bright, Impressionistic cinematography (seen to especial advantage in shots of young women and of the countryside), the languorous pace of its scenes and the delectation with which each detail is presented, are compelling.

“Life is a chain of beautiful lies.â€

[skuhn8]

We catch very little of the young Sinbad, only brief glimpses while in the midst of a seduction, playing lovers games, and these glimpses are mostly from behind, enough to gather his early dandyism and the lack of gray in his hair. Indeed, the Sinbad that we follow is the aged Odysseus voyaging forth in his coach to ‘recollect’ the conquests of his past. Still dashingly handsome, there is a great weariness that weighs down his gait, his eyes, his voice. This is the last great voyage.

And here it would be easy to dismiss Sinbad as an aged and vain Casanova as Bryan Burns seems to do. Burns falls into the politically correct trap all too easily: “Everything is told from his, male, point of view[…]” and “In this, Sindbad is like…any 19th century French novel one might care to name.” Certainly, these women fulfill the role of the ‘beautiful lies’ that make up his life. One can perhaps be interchanged with another, and as we see, he is contemplating one while in the very midst of attempting to seduce another (and in the this case, in the cemetery, failing).

But are these women merely conquests? Certainly there is some element of bragging involved: he is writing about these experiences after all, a point that Huszarik downplays, allowing our hero to mention only once—while in the company of some actors and actresses in the snowy countryside—and that only in passing, that he ‘does a little writing’. Otherwise we have the curious relation ship with Valentin who many years previous we are given to understand had taken on the burden of Sinbad’s confession ‘for a Kreutzer a sin’. But the genuine weariness that Sinbad exhibits during his return voyage and this second confession suggest a deeper implication with regards to his behavior. Is it just the deathbed conversion of an aging Don Juan? Or has Sinbad come to some kind of deeper understanding? I would suggest that his odyssey is in fact a seeking out of validation. From an encounter with Paula in the snow:

Paula: I'm occasionally ill.
Sinbad: Is your heart empty then?
P: Foolish boy! You think I could forget you?
S: You snake, you lying snake. How many times you'veforgotten me since then!

Allowed a somewhat sophistic and specious argument I would put forth the philosophy of George Berkeley where he maintains that all that we see and experience exists only insofar as it is being seen and experienced. A room without occupants and not thought upon ceases to exist. Likewise, Sinbad fears to be forgotten. It is essential to his being that he linger in the minds of his many mistresses. However, where Berkeley ‘saves the day’ in the face of the absurdity that all existence is but wanton illusion by positing God with infinite reach, Sinbad suffers from the ‘unfaithfulness in thought’ of his women, not to mention their very tendency to be mortal: "Florentine is dead, her blood fled like her dreams."

Bryan Burns: “At the film’s conclusion, bells toll, music is heard and Sindbad dies.” Huh. Rather over simplistic even for first viewing. There is much in his death upon which the film ends so abruptly and which recalls the opening’s second scene. Here, Sinbad pays a visit to the church organist—another former mistress about whom we heard in the context of gossips driving from the town should her liaison become known earlier in the film—in the midst of her duties on the keys. Again our view of the goings on is interrupted by a rapid series of short shots; however, these are all of a religious nature, devoid of sexual imagery, even living imagery. Like a lover who catches his beloved in the arms of another, Sinbad has caught this carrier of his essential image being unfaithful, in flagrante. His heart breaks/bursts, the religious images spool out as if on an editing machine, we see his lifeline, and he dies, caught in a freeze frame.

But does he not die twice? Once after the freeze frame of Valentin's mad wife, Marika, where he flies from the bed in convulsions and images of his white horse appear; and once in the church?

And if life is indeed a chain of beautiful lies, lovely illusions, is not death the grainy ugly moments that punctuate this life. We see throughout the film a small number of intentionally grainy shots. The most obvious is the grainy still capturing him upon death or in his death throes. Early there is a quick frame of his ‘final’ carriage ride captured from the second opening scene. But what do we make of the still of Valentin’s madwoman of a wife? The ugly truth that lays low the beautiful lies he has engaged in? Even the cold watery suicide of his second wife is rendered beautifully, poetically without any grainy interruption. These are all part of the great life’s work. But as time progresses more and more ugly truths enter. And the first? Perhaps the flower girl who he failed to ‘save’ with his love.

"Young women only corrupt you. They only teach you sensitivity, which one has no need for."

And what about Majmunka, his (second?) wife, his Penelope to whom he returns after each journey? Aged and deprived of her looks, she nonetheless tries to understand him, takes notes of his escapades, and can see his end: "How lucky I am that women are so unfaithful like the morning dew. My turn comes up from time to time." There's a hint of sincerity, genuine sincerity, in how he behaves towards her. However, I don't know how sincere we can take it when he claims to be trying to reach her through the bodies of others. Also, it's worth noting that it appears that her station is that of a madam.

There an almost comic element to this story in the typically Hungarian penchant for cold irony. Even in death Sinbad’s voyage continues. Leaving but a corpse, useless to anybody, he isn’t even worth the costs of burial. Set back in his carriage he continues his voyage and the story that follows is recounted as if from limbo.

The first time I saw this film I could only try to grasp at the lovely pictures, dig for some meaning in them, all the while letting the little gems of scattered narrative slip through my fingers. Though it helps to be able to recognize and identify the many women for future reference it isn’t entirely essential. Subsequent viewings reveal a rich tapestry of philosophic contemplation on life and meaning, the transient nature of love and devotion and of course a beautiful ode to Epicureanism.

“Why do women scrape carrots so furiously?”

Having gotten over my disdain for the Casanova aspect of Sinbad that marred my initial viewing I later came to appreciate his finer elements…and even laughed out loud in a couple scenes. A particular favorite, and I think a precursor to his descent, is the restaurant scene at the one-hour mark. After watching him carefully spice his soup he begins to goad the waiter for some dinner entertainment. He abides by recounting the woeful tale of the wife who left him. But Sinbad’s appetite for dinner theatre is second to his fine-tuned palate as he orders dish after succulent dish and providing humorous commentary throughout on matters of cuisine…before adding a disastrous coda to the waiter’s tale (this, I won't spoil).

Anybody else have any thoughts? I ran out for now.

“The innkeeper must be generous”
“Why is that sir?”
“He's generous with the froth”

Curiosity about the opening barrage of beautiful images coupled with a free hour in the cinema room resulted in the following frame-by-frame breakdown of the first ten minutes of Szindbad. It's interesting to see how such an effective work breaks down into individual elements. But what does it all mean?

The number that follows the description refers to frame duration (give or take a frame or two).

EDIT: adding women associated with these shots in [brackets].

0:05 Montage I: The following description describe objects in extreme close-up and in sharp resolution unless noted otherwise. 42 shots (11 of them ‘embers’, 10 with dried flowers), 1’15”:
1. flower stamen, 74
2. oil drops floating in clear water [Patience], 60
3. pressed flower, 7
4. oil drops floating in clear water (reprise)[Patience], 50
5. pressed flower (reprise, with slight zoom), 70
6. red drops (paprika?) floating much like the oil drop shots[Patience], 43
7. extremely blurred fern fronds/forget-me-not decoration[flower girl], 14
8. red drops (reprise, but now the red liquid is dominating the frame)[Patience], 50
9. vibrant flower, 45
10. large lock of blond hair / a few dried flowers upon what appears to be red shawl[Patience], 63
11. Burning log (this recurring image will be referred to as ‘embers’—increasingly zoomed in and exhibits a flare-up after the shot begins as if from being blown on or breeze), 42
12. (?) white like silk or milk, 23
13. embers, 67
14. dried flowers on antique print, 12
15. turn of century portrait of maiden, 4
16. dried flowers on antique print (reprise), 13
17. embers, 38
18. spider web with debris blowing in breeze, 12
19. embers (dying), 105
20. tree: scarred and with stems of creeping vines, 16
21. weathered roof shingles with drops of dew, 136
22. embers (extreme close up), 118
23. flower pattern/lace/strands of blonde hair/obscured flower in foreground[Patience], 47
24. embers: black > fade in on single black ember in extreme close up, 17
25. antique image of woman obstructed by dried flower and veil netting, 32
26. embers (reprise, extreme close up), 58
27. tree: scarred and with stems of creeping vines (reprise, but evening), 16
28. embers, 21
29. antique photo of girl neck up, 7
30. embers, 12
31. antique photo: blurred headshot of little girl in a bonnet/two flowers upon it, 68
32. blurred/obscured shot of red object (shawl?) moving across white background[Patience], 50
33. flower/plant lying on veil netting, 62
34. embers (camera has retreated to distance of second Embers shot), 43
35. blurred shot of forest with smoke at left, 11
36. embers, 77
37. antique photo of a woman / a veil is over the picture, 15
38. blurred shot of forest with smoke (reprise, 30
39. antique photo of a woman / a veil is over the picture (reprise), 4
40. blurred shot of forest with smoke (reprise, but smoke is nearing center frame), 14
41. sundial[Euphrusina], 39
42. weathered roof shingles with drops of dew (reprise), 180

1:20 LIMBO. Sinbad’s final journey
Following a shot of his white horse we see Sinbad being sent home, dead. The soundtrack continues what might be considered his theme, a plucked bass lament. Several images repeat from the opening montage. Example, we see that the dew-laden roof shingles belong to the home of the mistress in whose home he has passed the night and passed away (at least so it would appear, despite conflicting with the ultimate ending of the film). Note on DVD: Upon arriving at his wife's home and before she turns his carriage back ("I'm not paying for the burial") she says the line "It seems that he's over" which goes untranslated on the Hungarian DVD.

4:10 CREDIT SEQUENCE. Lively music. Titles play over burning ‘embers’ from earlier montage.

5:56 Montage II, 27 shots (8 with snow/ice, 9 with flowers/flowering plants), 39”
1. dead wood with a ladybug crawling over it as final credit, that of the director, fades, 6
2. shiny cloth material, 15
3. white flower with petals rapidly retracting/wilting as if from extreme heat, 30
4. shiny cloth material (reprise), 11
5. girl in white dress and flowers (Dusky), 20
6. white flower stamen, 36
7. sundial (reprise)[Euphrusina], 40
8. milk?, 17
9. flowers in snow, 6
10. milk? (reprise), 24
11. tombstone bearing woman’s portrait in the snow[Florentine], 6
12. ice melting into brook, 56
13. extremely out of focus shot of naked woman rolling in snow (she’ll appear later), 30
14. live shot of girl coming into focus (we’ll see her later as ice-skater in Lillafűred), 74
15. rusty Jesus on a tombstone (arms outstretched, as in the shot previous and shot following)[Florentine], 6
16. live but grainy shot of girl posing on a park bench, 20
17. ice-lined running brook, 45
18. letter. Translated from Hungarian: The golden chain of friendship/should link our hearts./Only the sad dusk of death/should separate us. /April 18, 1874 Gizella Turtsanyi, 48
19. ice-lined running brook (reprise), 84
20. open window: blonde from park bench pulls back the curtain to peer at us, 46
21. grass swaying in running brook, 38
22. items in a vivacious vegetable patch, 72
23. white flowers, stamen revealed in rapid bloom, 47
24. another flower, another angle, 34
25. another flower, another angle, 53
26. another flower, another angle, 114 soundtrack: “...Ladies…”
27. another flower, another angle, 4

6:35 ‘Music Box’ Dance. Two girls, one the blonde seen in Montage II, dance together with late 18th Century dance music on the soundtrack in a sunny wood. At one point the music accelerates while they move in slow motion and a couple of times their dance is sped up to resemble a music box show to accelerated almost carnival music. At 9:10 a young dandyish Sinbad joins the two dancing girls.

9:54 close up of white flower closing (reverse of the earlier blooming flowers), 166

10:00 DUSKY. The girl from an earlier montage shot reappears. As the camera zooms out we see that she is reading a book. Sinbad, now older than the dancing dandy, appears from behind her and hears the poetic refusal/promise that will haunt him into his last days: "You'll think of me again in the dusk even if you don't see me again."

[skuhn8]

I've sold/traded the 20th Szindbad dvd on this forum and am eagerly hoping for input on this remarkable film...so here goes with a shameless bump to this most neglected thread....

[jsteffe]

I've sold/traded the 20th Szindbad dvd on this forum and am eagerly hoping for input on this remarkable film...so here goes with a shameless bump to this most neglected thread....

OK--I'll take the bait. I haven't purchased the DVD from you (I plan to eventually!), but I did see a copy of the restored video from the Hungarian Film Archive--one of our faculty here picked it up for research purposes a year or two before the DVD came out in Hungary. I've studied the film at length since then, viewing it closely with a native Hungarian speaker.

First, let me just say that Szindbád is unequivocally one of the most beautifully photographed color films ever made. I mean this in all seriousness. The cinematographer, Sándor Sára, is truly a creative genius in his own right. Those who haven't seen this amazing film yet should take the effort to track it down (i.e., take advantage of skuhn8's presence).

I also read Gyula Krúdy's stories ("The Adventures of Sinbad") translated into English. They're really wonderful--sensual, and imaginative. It's not difficult to see where the inspiration for the film came from. The film of course condenses the stories into a single work, but it touches upon motifs from a surprising number of the stories and I think it does a great job at capturing their overall flavor. Yes, he's an aging Casanova, but there is also some sincere feeling between him and the women, as Skuhn8 points out. That's what gives the film genuine emotional resonance. Also, he has the sensibility and the powers of observation of a poet--the things he sees in the world are truly beautiful and memorable.

I also think one should avoid the trap of viewing the film primarily as a collection of "pretty pictures." Yes, it's heavily pictorial, as that critic you quote points out, but it's really more of a poem than a conventional narrative film. The editing and temporal structure is really dense, but if you pay attention, and especially if you view the film more than once, it has a clear underlying symbolic logic, and it even becomes deeply moving in the way certain events and impressions are foreshadowed or recalled through fleeting images. The ending is stunning.

If this isn't a neglected masterpiece, I don't know what is.

[MichaelB]

First, let me just say that Szindbád is unequivocally one of the most beautifully photographed color films ever made. I mean this in all seriousness. The cinematographer, Sándor Sára, is truly a creative genius in his own right. Those who haven't seen this amazing film yet should take the effort to track it down (i.e., take advantage of skuhn8's presence).

...and don't be put off by the non-anamorphic transfer, as it's otherwise excellent. (For some reason, Hungarian labels rarely offer anamorphic enhancement even on recent titles).

(UPDATE: This obviously applies to the old Mokép DVD: the Second Run disc has a brand new anamorphic transfer, and is now the clear first choice.)

I completely agree with you about the film's cinematography: the opening scenes alone make it clear that it's on a completely different visual plane from most other films. Surprisingly few films make particularly expressive use of colour: usually it's just as a label, but here it's an indelible part of the overall texture. (I don't have the DVD to hand right now, otherwise I'd cite specifics).

I also read Gyula Krúdy's stories ("The Adventures of Sinbad") translated into English. They're really wonderful--sensual, and imaginative. It's not difficult to see where the inspiration for the film came from. The film of course condenses the stories into a single work, but it touches upon motifs from a surprising number of the stories and I think it does a great job at capturing their overall flavor. Yes, he's an aging Casanova, but there is also some sincere feeling between him and the women, as Skuhn8 points out. That's what gives the film genuine emotional resonance. Also, he has the sensibility and the powers of observation of a poet--the things he sees in the world are truly beautiful and memorable.

I picked up the stories - I daresay the same edition: there can't be too many! - when I was in Budapest, and I'd agree. Of course, there's always the danger of relying too much on translation, and Hungarians seem positively proud of Krúdy's alleged untranslatability (I also heard that they're not that bothered about Szindbád being virtually unknown outside Hungary, for similar reasons) - but from what I could glean Krúdy and Huszárik (and Sára) seem on the same wavelength.

Incidentally, I first heard of Krúdy through an interview with the great Hungarian composer György Ligeti, who cited him as one of his major influences. If I remember rightly, what attracted him to Krúdy was the dense, web-like texture of his prose, with seemingly incongruous individual elements somehow creating something coherent.

(UPDATE: I did some proper research into this for the Second Run booklet, and Ligeti's inspiration seems to have been a single specific Krúdy story, about a widow living in a house full of clocks ticking at different speeds. Anyone familiar with Ligeti's music can probably work out how that stimulated his imagination.)

If this isn't a neglected masterpiece, I don't know what is.

I couldn't agree more, and in fact picked Szindbád when asked to eulogise a neglected masterpiece for Sight & Sound's "75 Hidden Gems: The Great Films Time Forgot" feature in 2007. This is what I wrote:

Hungarians proudly claim that both Szindbád and the Gyula Krúdy stories that inspired it are incomprehensible to outsiders, but the tactile sensuality of Sándor Sara's cinematography here would rivet anyone's attention, from the opening montage of dripping bark, glowing embers, velvety petals and coloured oils floating in water onwards. Ageing roué Szindbád (Zoltán Latinovits) clings Proust-like to the memories, places and objects of his past, each successive lover triggering flash-cut images of her predecessors. His misogyny is countered by melancholy: he knows that a life dedicated to pure hedonism will end friendless and alone, but he can't help himself. Two sequences - the final encounter with the red-scarfed woman on a mist-shrouded, iced-over lake, and the fetishistically elaborate soup preparation - would surely be recognised as classic set-pieces in a better-known film. On the evidence of this feature debut and his 1965 short Elegia Huszárik was potentially a major talent, but he only made one more feature (Csontváry, 1979) before killing himself.

(UPDATE: Amusingly - and flatteringly - Peter Strickland cites this very piece in his video appreciation on the Second Run Szindbád disc as being the thing that alerted him to the film's existence in the first place. I should probably also add that contrary to my confident claim above, it doesn't seem entirely clear-cut that Huszárik actually committed suicide, and so I was rather more circumspect about this in the Second Run booklet essay).

[skuhn8]

Hungarians proudly claim that both Szindbád and the Gyula Krúdy stories that inspired it are incomprehensible to outsiders, but the tactile sensuality of Sándor Sara's cinematography here would rivet anyone's attention, from the opening montage of dripping bark, glowing embers, velvety petals and coloured oils floating in water onwards. Ageing roue Szindbád (Zoltán Latinovits) clings Proust-like to the memories, places and objects of his past, each successive lover triggering flash-cut images of her predecessors. His misogyny is countered by melancholy: he knows that a life dedicated to pure hedonism will end friendless and alone, but he can't help himself. Two sequences - the final encounter with the red-scarfed woman on a mist-shrouded, iced-over lake, and the fetishistically elaborate soup preparation - would surely be recognised as classic set-pieces in a better-known film. On the evidence of this feature debut and his 1965 short Elegia Huszarik was potentially a major talent, but he only made one more feature (Csontváry, 1979) before killing himself.

I wonder if she was a manifestation of the director's own Szindbad story, as the red-scarfed woman (Euphrusina or Fruszina) is played by Anna Nagy, Huszarik's wife. She will be (hardly) recognizable to some as the lead of Pacsirta, her film debut as the eponymous ugly-duckling 'Skylark'. To those taking a tour of Hungary, I believe the location is the picturesque Lillafured (popular location for numerous pre-WWII comedies) near Miskolc.

[skuhn8]

First, let me just say that Szindbád is unequivocally one of the most beautifully photographed color films ever made. I mean this in all seriousness. The cinematographer, Sándor Sára, is truly a creative genius in his own right. Those who haven't seen this amazing film yet should take the effort to track it down (i.e., take advantage of skuhn8's presence).

[.....]

I also think one should avoid the trap of viewing the film primarily as a collection of "pretty pictures." Yes, it's heavily pictorial, as that critic you quote points out, but it's really more of a poem than a conventional narrative film. The editing and temporal structure is really dense, but if you pay attention, and especially if you view the film more than once, it has a clear underlying symbolic logic, and it even becomes deeply moving in the way certain events and impressions are foreshadowed or recalled through fleeting images. The ending is stunning.

If this isn't a neglected masterpiece, I don't know what is.

If anyone is in Budapest this Spring (April 22 to be precise): There will be a showing of Szindbad at the Odeon in the XIII district with the above mentioned cinematographer Sándor Sára in attendance doing QA. Most likely a projection of the Mokep DVD. This is part of a cinema series. WE also have Gyorgy Palfi accompanying a screening of Hukkle in May.

[Der Müde Tod]

First of all, a big thank you to Skuhn for recommending this film and offering the DVDs. I have watched it now twice but still find it
very difficult to comment on it. I believe it might be possible to extract quite a bit about what is going on, either by analyzing the film as Skuhn has started, or by using the short stories the film is based on, but this is of minor importance to me.

For me, the film was an extreme visual experience. The stills are photographically very close to my own photographic ideals as an amateur, and I felt deeply moved to see literally hundreds of perfect images in a mere 90 minutes. This addresses the main problem I have with the film: It is too fast. Some of the shots are a mere fraction of a second long, clearly attempting to give us the experience of
blurred memories, but preventing me to do what I would like to do most: Sit back and contemplate these images.

The comparison with Resnais is certainly valid. I felt a little bit reminded of some of Oliveira's color films that are also beautifully photographed and convey a dream-like state (a later one that comes to my mind is "Abraham's Valley").

I also felt strongly reminded of Paradjanov's The Color of the Pomegranate, which has a similar visual impact.

[What A Disgrace]

Being released on May 23, according to Amazon.

[jsteffe]

If correct, what glorious news! One of the most beautiful color films ever made.

[MichaelB]

It's certainly correct, unless Second Run played a cruel practical joke on me when they asked me to write the booklet.

They've got some mouthwatering Hungarian titles coming up as part of the same deal, including what I believe is the first English-subtitled video release of a major Jancsó title anywhere in the world.

[knives]

That's cruelly fantastic of you to say. Second Run seems to be going after even more interesting titles with each announcement. By the way, I've read the title with and without a second d(like Szindbad). I'm sure without is more accurate, but what could be the cause of that?

[MichaelB]

The Hungarian title is Szindbád, but there are various Anglicisations - my copy of the original Gyula Krúdy stories that inspired the film is called The Adventures of Sinbad, but that spelling misleadingly suggests that Ray Harryhausen might have had something to do with it.

Oh, and here's a taster (literally - your mouth will probably be watering well before the end!)

[What A Disgrace]

The thought of more Hungarian titles on the way makes me feel very pleasant inside.

[knives]

Oh, and here's a taster (literally - your mouth will probably be watering well before the end!)

Truly food is the international language. I'm sure it's very dramatic what they're saying, but the staging is oddly Python-esque. The whole thing was entertaining though and I'm sure I'd get a kick out of it even minus subtitles. Now I'm even more anticipatory for a film I had never heard of 24 hours ago. Second run has to be the best publishing house in the world.

[charal]

Without a doubt, this film has one of the best food sequence of all films. I remember David Stratton making a point of this when the film was screened on Australian TV in the early 90s. .

The main actor Latinovits is superb throughout but his 'suicide' 4 years after the film's completion was a lost to the arts.

[Click the Husarick link on this page and discover more 'tragedy' in regard to the films director.]

I assume this - as well as LARKS ON A STRING - will not be anamorphic. My taped versions of these films seem to be set at 1.66:1. Are we to get a similar product to the THIRD PART OF THE NIGHT disc?

If I can annoy everyone at SR yet again: please, please, please release Evald Schorm's COURAGE FOR EVERYDAY & PRODIGAL SON soon!!!!

[Bikey]

I assume this - as well as LARKS ON A STRING - will not be anamorphic.

Just to happily confirm for you that our DVD of LARKS ON A STRING is anamorphic. And that SZINDBAD will be anamorphic too.

Also, charal, it is not an annoyance at all about the Schorm's - like you, we love those films as well and will let everyone know should anything definite transpire.

[Zazou dans le Metro]

Are we likely to get Elegia as an extra as on the Hungarian release?

[MichaelB]

My understanding is that 'Elegia' will indeed be included.

There should be at least one more video-based extra and a booklet, so the end result should completely eclipse Mokep's Hungarian DVD - which, to be fair, had about as good a non-anamorphic transfer as I've ever seen, but with that inherent drawback.

[What A Disgrace]

This sounds like an essential purchase, and something I'll gladly double dip on without hesitation. I hope this also leads to Second Run releasing Huszarik's other feature film, Csontvary, in the future, as its shot up to top spots on my list of "need to see" films since I first saw Szindbad.

[skuhn8]

This sounds like an essential purchase, and something I'll gladly double dip on without hesitation. I hope this also leads to Second Run releasing Huszarik's other feature film, Csontvary, in the future, as its shot up to top spots on my list of "need to see" films since I first saw Szindbad.

Can we convert this to a question to Bikey: What's the likelihood of Second Run releasing 'Csontvary' in 2011?

Ecstatic about Szindbad. Traded my copy not realizing that it was already out of print. But would upgrade anyways for an anamorphic release. Keep up the great work!

[Bikey]

It's great, Stefan, that you are ecstatic about our releasing Szindbad. And Csontváry is definitely under discussion (how could it not be once you see his Szindbad!) but very unlikely to be released during 2011. We will keep you informed when anything finalises.

Also, I've PM'd you just now but not sure if that message has actually been delivered. Please check and let me know. Thanks.

[knives]

Some gorgeous artwork

[MichaelB]

I suspect that's temporary, but I can't wait to see the final version.

Mind you, summing this film up in a single image is no small challenge: describing it as one of the greatest examples of colour cinematography in cinema history only sounds like hyperbole to those who haven't yet seen it.

[knives]

I suspect that's temporary, but I can't wait to see the final version.

Absolutely, but if the 'don't even care' temp art looks that good the film inside has to be something of a prize.