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The Turin Horse Review

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A farmer and his daughter's livelihood depend on their faithful horse - but as the animal ages, their own existence is threatened.

★★★★

Béla Tarr claims his ninth feature will be his last. If true, he departs with an intimate epic of grim, formal beauty and disconcerting foreboding. Opening with an equine anecdote about Nietzsche, the action switches to a cottage on a wind-blasted plain where carter János Derzsi ekes out a desperate existence with daughter Erika Bók, whose days are divided between fetching water from the well, cooking potatoes and gazing through the window. It’s gruelling, but utterly riveting: Tarr insists it’s simply a study in arduous monotony, but much can be read into this exceptional exercise in so called ‘remodernist’ cinema.

It may be bleak, but this lingers in the mind long after you've seen it.

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