I'm in the middle of re-watching Bela Tarr's more recent films at the moment, and hoping that his most recent, The Turin Horse, sees the light of day (or, more appropriately, the rainy half-light of day) sometime this year. I am struck anew by his bleak landscapes, rain-drenched, mud-spattered, and crumbling into a monochrome background of fog, and the ridiculous, hopeless specimens of humanity moving through them in a kind of social determinist haze, as if the sharp focuses of their younger selves have been muddied and diluted by life and the endless rain and crumbling brickwork that surrounds them. I'm not sure why I find comfort in these films. Perhaps it is because they are edited at a human pace, and all of the characters are full of human weaknesses. There is a freedom in showing weakness - a freedom that comes from breaking down the walls protecting who we are. I've always been drawn to desolate landscapes too,and every location I've ever seen in one of Tarr's films looks like a ghost town, abandoned yet not abandoned. It doesn't hurt that the cinematography is profoundly beautiful too.

The last time I spent any real time with Bela Tarr's films, I entered into a period of personal creativity that lasted at least a year. Maybe it will happen again.

Currently listening to: Murder by Death "Who Will Survive, and What Will Be Left of Them?" double 10", and looking forward to seeing them play in a couple of weeks.