Cámara:
János KendeMúsica:
Tamás CsehReparto:
Ildikó Bánsági, György Cserhalmi, Dorottya Udvaros, Lajos Balázsovits, József Madaras, Miklós Székely B., András Kozák, Tamás Cseh, László Gálffi, Frigyes Hollósi, Géza Bereményi, István Kovács (más)Sinopsis(1)
After the free elections a moderately right-wing government is formed in Hungary. Taking advantage of a reception, the nephew of the Prime Minister (and the lover of his wife) decides to get rid of his relative and political opponent. He makes the woman to shoot her husband. In the power struggle starting after the assassination the whole court takes part. Everybody shadows everybody else, all the events take place in front of cameras (and can be seen on TV screens as well). The number of dead bodies constantly grows, but at the end it turns out that the whole thing was a mere play. Not even the Prime Minister died. The great trick was intended against one man, so there is only one body left: the nephew. (texto oficial de la distribuidora)
(más)Reseñas (1)
When the development of technology allows us to eliminate the delay between the time of an event and the time of its representation, when the event itself immediately merges with the surface of the media that presents it, we come to a simulacrum of pure synchronicity between the displayed and the displaying - a television screen transmitting a live broadcast. A dialectical twist is then imminent: does the event have to have, as it did before, primacy over the media, or - thanks to the fact that reality and its representation have merged and are therefore one - does the medium itself have to become the mover of reality? Jancsó then shows in the next, this time capitalist continuation of the chronicle of his career, how the medium assuming this demiurgic role plays at the same time the role of manipulator and power-hungry oppressor. The continuity between Jancsó's films from the end of real socialism and the beginning of real capitalism is evident, sad, formal and substantial, bitter, and ultimately fruitless. It cannot be fruitless when simulation and empty desire for power and primitive luxury have killed the last remnants (perhaps nothing was left after Kádár) of the efforts to create something great: yes, it was often (actually fundamentally) the pathos of tragic events - nationalisms, fascism, revolutions, processes, building, etc. (in short, the 19th and 20th centuries in Jancsó's greatest films), but it was a pathos in which struggle and death still had some value. That is no longer the case here - death, like a strange spectacular kaleidoscope, shifts from one character to another, and even though the weakest link ultimately loses, it somehow disappears on the edge of the screen, without glory and the possibility of later historical redemption. Even the waltz becomes a caricature of itself, a simulacrum of a long-lost past.
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