Sindre Kaspersen Hungarian screenwriter, producer and director Béla Tarr's eight feature film which he co-directed with Hungarian film editor Ágnes Hranitzky and co-wrote with Hungarian writer László Krasznahorkai, is an adaptation of the novel "L'homme de Londres" from 1934 by Belgian writer Georges Simenon (1903-1989). It was shot on location in France and Hungary, premiered In competition at the 58th Cannes International Film Festival in 2007, was screened in the Masters section at the 32nd Toronto International Film Festival in 2007 and is a France-Germany-Hungary co-production which was produced by Miriam Zachar, Joachim Von Vietinghoff, Gábor Téni, Christoph Hahnheiser, Paul Saadoun and French producer and chairman of the European Film Academy Humbert Balsan (1954-2005). It tells the story about Maloin, a middle-aged railway signalman imprisoned by his vague prospects who lives in an apartment with his housewife Carmélia and his teenage daughter Henrietta in a port town. One night while Maloni is in his viewing tower, he witnesses a man with a briefcase being killed by another man on the dockside. After seeing the perpetrator leave the scene of the crime, Maloin walks down to the dockside and fetches the briefcase. When he discovers that it is full of English banknotes, he decides to hide it.Distinctly and precisely directed by Hungarian filmmaker Béla Tarr, this nuanced fictional tale which is narrated mostly from the protagonist's point of view, draws a quiet and incisive portrayal of a family man's internal changes after witnessing a murder. While notable for it's gritty and atmospheric milieu depictions, prominent production design by Ágnes Hranitzky, Jean-Pascal Chalard and Hungarian production designer Lásló Rajk, black-and-white cinematography by German-born cinematographer, film editor, screenwriter and director Fred Kelemen, fine editing by Ágnes Hranitzky and use of sound, this character-driven and narrative-driven crime story depicts an in-depth study of character and contains an efficient score by Hungarian composer Mihály Vig.This stylistic, dense and significantly atmospheric mystery about a man's moral conflicts and his relationship with his wife and his daughter, is impelled and reinforced by it's cogent narrative structure, subtle character development and continuity, esoteric characters, rhythmic pace and the fine acting performances by Czech actor Miroslav Krobot, English actress Tilda Swinton and actress Erika Bók. This austere, existentialistic and expressionistic neo-noir where the story at times becomes overshadowed by the cinematic brilliance, is a fascinating though alienating experience.

dbdumonteil If you are FRench ,first thing to bear in mind is that this is the second version of Georges Simenon's novel .This is not to say it's a "remake" for the two versions are as different as they can be.But it must be written that Henry Decoin's movie(1) was made in the darkest hour of the Occupation in 1943 ,and produced by the Continental ,a German firm ,so the writers had to deal with the censorship.What am I driving at?simply that at the time,there was no need to create a nightmarish atmosphere (although Decoin succeeded in doing so) for the nightmare was all around.Compared to the "modern" version ,the old one may seem conventional (but please give it a try if you can ) .This one looks like a nightmare with its stark black and white ,its interminable fixed shots ,its lugubrious music -sometimes a simple accordion tune looks like Tangerine Dream or even Nico music - its actors whose performances are so overblown it's almost unbearable .The movie is very long and I must admit that ,If I did not know the plot,I would have got lost since the first reel.The lines are few and far between and it sometimes recalls films of the silent age this side of German Expressionismus.Bela Tarr refuses any suspense ,any show (the scene in the cabin by the sea is revealing:close shot on a padlock).The atmosphere is much more important than the detective story ;even the social comment which was present in Decoin's movie (If only my son could get into Ecole Polytechnique) gets totally lost in the treatment, deliberately so of course ;this man does not really want to get by ,his wife is a shrew ,his daughter is ugly and all the furs in the world can't change that .The characters melt into the background .(1) "L'Homme De Londres"

astream99 I started watching this film and after about 5 minutes, boredom set in. The boredom continued for another excruciating two hours. This should have been a short film of about 15 minutes instead, it's stretched needlessly with nonsense shots that seem to last forever - an old guy eating, the main character undressing and going to bed followed by darkness for what seems like three minutes, a butcher unconvincingly chopping a piece of meat, two guys dancing like imbeciles and on and on...While there are much worse films out there, this has to be the most tedious film ever made. This is the kind of film pretentious people brag about loving because they think it makes them seem smart and intellectual and deep. I'm sure understand it!", but let's face it, there's nothing to get here. I'd rather watch a marathon of Uwe Boll films than see another film like this. I think you should get a free t-shirt after sitting through this - one that says "I survived The Man From London"Stay far far away from this bs.

chaos-rampant The night is quiet, shapes of faint, lifeless forms in the grim perimeters about, the streets lie black and steaming in these alien reaches of a city of curious architecture, much like yours perhaps. This is a world lying in wait, beset by a thing unknown. When it finally comes it's the hull of a ship, a long vertical shot tracking across a vessel that looks like a bleached bone of a whale washed out on shore. The camera moves three times back and forth on its tracks, as though some kind of ritual must be performed for this to begin.There's not much plot or story to speak of. A suitcase full of money. A crime committed. Smalltime crooks and an ordinary man in the wrong place the wrong time. The banality of a plot so unmistakeably familiar contrasted with intimate moments, people living some kind of life. Small bursts of life woven into a genre framework so frail and transparent as though to be nonexistent, a form of dramatic percussion to the wandering and the aimlessness. Staccato rhythms throughout the movie abet this, the passage of time. The thumps of a ball on a wall, sounds of billiard from an adjucent room, the slashes of a meat-cleaver, rhythms to which existence can dissipate.Transfixing and hypnotic, this is the visual equivalent to the albums of drone artists Sunn0))) and their 14 minute monotonous drones. Mostly aural, Tarr's camera ferries us back and forth in these godless corridors, where our only bearing is time.It doesn't come from anywhere nor goes, it's rather a mantra, whereby repeating it we can concentrate on the texture of the sound itself. And how it reverberates.