JOURNEY ON THE PLAIN (HUNGARY/1995/BÉLA TARR)

Revered auteur Béla Tarr, renowned for his languid, unmoving shots, opens this non-narrative short with a minute-long meditation on a barren path as Tarr’s frequent lead actor Mihály Víg walks into the horizon. What follows is a series of recitations from the works of Hungary’s national poet, Sándor Petőfi, as Víg wanders through the titular plain, occasionally settling in crumbling buildings. Víg performs one of his compositions in the film on an organ at the back of a truck as the landscape flickers past.

In all honesty, this film should only really of interest to those already acquainted with Tarr’s oeuvre, as it doesn’t rank up there with his best films. There’s definite value to it, but it requires a great deal of patience and open-mindedness. Although there’s some outstanding framing, the photography is all over the place. At times it could be an excerpt from a high budget feature – the closing shot of an apathetic child on a swing is particularly stunning – at others it wouldn’t look out of place on a public access TV channel. The decision to work in colour steals the film of the ethereal magic seen in Tarr’s best works (all but one of his feature films are in black and white). Perhaps I have grown too familiar with his visual language, but there is definitely something discordant here. Conversely, Víg’s music, which is usually in keeping with the aching solemnity of Tarr’s films, is filled with quiet optimism, and illuminates this otherwise moody piece.

THE CALAMARI WRESTLER (JAPAN/2004/MINORU KAWASAKI)

Our lead character, succinctly summarised in the title, is a strong-willed squid who works his way to the top of the Japanese wrestling federation, utilising his physical invertebracy to his advantage. Men want to be him, women want to be with him... sort of. But there’s a sad turn to this whimsical story. The squid is actually a man, Kan-ichi, a former wrestler who has turned into the large mollusc as a side effect of a horrific terminal illness. After regaining the respect of Miyako, the woman who thought she’d lost him, he undergoes further adversity in the form of Miyako’s current lover Kôji, a jealous fellow wrestler who had always been in Kan-ichi’s shadow. To add insult to injury, Calamari is challenged to fight a squilla shrimp renowned for his boxing prowess.

There’s no real way of analysing this film without having a surreal sense of humour. Just a few minutes in, it’s already so strange you have no choice but to laugh. The costumes are wonderful, reigniting the laughter whenever the story flags a bit. And though the whole film is played for silliness, director Minoru Kawasaki does have something to say about the politics of the individual. Naturally, this is lost in the bizarre comedy images, such as Calamari’s wonderfully mundane shopping trips, basket in tentacle, or his adrenaline-pumped Rocky montage (can squids lift weights?). It’s a simple story that might not have been released were it not for the kooky protagonist, but nonetheless an enjoyable watch.

THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD (USA/2007/ANDREW DOMINIK)

Owing as much to Andrei Tarkovsky as it does to John Ford, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is an unusual mood piece, both exciting and somniferous. Jesse James (Brad Pitt) is at the prime of his life when Bob Ford, a bashful teenager who idolises James, approaches him with the hope of collaborating with the infamous criminal. After joining in on a successful train robbery, James’ gang disbands and Bob continues to shadow Jesse, simultaneously growing more awed and disenchanted with his hero. When he discovers former gang members are colluding to capture him for a bounty, Jesse relies on Bob more and more, little knowing that Bob is soon to betray him.

The film succeeds primarily on a visual level. Photographer Roger Deakins, renowned as a frequent collaborator of the Coen brothers, works his magic over all 160 minutes, and there’s not a single frame that wouldn’t look lovely hanging on a wall. Extreme use of bokeh (that is to say, blurred backgrounds and sharp foregrounds) has a similar existentialist effect as it does in Sokurov’s haunting Mother And Son.

While great care has been taken to retain historical accuracy, the film loses rhythm in the middle and it becomes somewhat sluggish. However, this is more than made up for by great performances from a well-selected cast. Casey Affleck as Bob proves there’s acting talent to be found in the Affleck clan, while Brad Pitt outdoes himself in his best role of the decade.

CRISIS (SWEDEN/1946/INGMAR BERGMAN)

Ingmar Bergman’s first film as director, Crisis follows 18-year-old gamine Nelly, fostered into a family living in small-town Sweden. One day, completely out of the blue, her decidedly-fashionable birth mother Jenny comes to the house, keen to shepherd the daughter she abandoned back into her life. A ball Nelly attends becomes the perfect opportunity for the two mother figures to outdo each other, and soon it is made clear that “Aunt” Jenny is the hip, lively figure Nelly has needed for all these years. Soon, Nelly is ushered into the inner ring of Stockholm’s high society and, after encountering some unsavoury characters, comes to understand just how easily she had been lured into a world of empty beauty.

Photographically, there are occasional flourishes of Bergmanesque splendour (the lighting in particular is brilliant), but the film itself is nothing to write home about. The characters are maddeningly dull, some straight from lesser Hitchcock films, and their interactions are devoid of passion or credibility. The story, taken from Leck Fischer’s radio play Moderhjertet, is awkwardly paced, and by the end little seems to have changed, save for haircuts. It might be unfair to be so flippant about the early work of a man who went on to be hailed as one of the greatest directors of all time, but given the calibre of some of his greater films, it comes as a surprise to learn that he was ever at the helm of such an unremarkable project, or indeed one so derivative.

COMING SOON (CZECH REPUBLIC/2006/SIR TIJN PO)

Mixing the naked audacity of underground cinema with the familiar format of the TV documentary, Coming Soon is an unfettered portrait of zoophiles, those whose sexual gratification comes from interaction with animals. Interviewing members of the first bestiality-rights group E.F.A. (Equality For All), the film allows its subjects to speak for themselves, explain their life philosophies and passively put their case forward. Narration is restricted so as not to condescend to the audience.

With such a controversial topic, it’s very difficult to want to hear the ‘other side’ of the story. Some of the arguments used in the film don’t make any effort to appeal to sound logic, and there are some disturbing accounts which do little else except shock. But whether one agrees with the film or dismisses it as contentious hippy bullshit, it is undeniably well made. Director Sir Tijn Po, an outré character who played assistant director on Jan Švankmajer’s film Little Otik, blends his personal advocacy with a great sense of humour to make the piece appeal to most people. Transcending genres and realities, Coming Soon is an exceptional, challenging experience which, for all its meta-referential bombast, never fails to hold interest (the same can’t be said for other films on the same subject). If for no other reason, watch it for the natural comedy of a man contemplating sex with a dinosaur, a selection of inflatable barnyard sex toys, and a jaded shaman sick of other people’s presumptions that zoophiles “fuck spiders in the corner”.