User reviews

Theo Angelopoulos is one of the acknowledged masters of cinema, and yet he remains little seen: an acquired taste. It is easy to see why. Unlike other greats, like, say, Renoir and Mizoguchi, who, though firmly rooted in their own national cultures, present characters and narratives generally recognisable, Angelopoulos is forbiddingly national (as opposed to nationalistic: there are echoes of everyone from Fellini to Bunuel to Ozu in this film) in his outlook. Watching this film without any knowledge of Greek history, literature or mythology can be very frustrating - every time you see a character, event, composition, you know it alludes to something else, but because you don't know what, you feel like you're missing the point of the film. La Regle Du Jeu is enriched by a deep knowledge of French History, but can be enjoyed by anyone with an interest in cinema, stories or humanity. Angelopoulos' films don't have this surface level of entertainment - everything is symbolic and loaded.

Does this mean that the only enjoyment of the film can be a cold admiration of form? No. Even if we don't understand the specifics, we can recognise the horrors of a nation beset by continual tyranny. The metaphor of a theatrical troupe, travelling throughout Greece, is subtly used. Rather than actors, or commentators on history, as we'd expect, they're always continually observing, on the margins. Modern Greece is a labyrinth - the film is dense with streets, corridors, doors, offering no escape, just an endless loop, leading to dead ends of time and space. Fascism has exploded these notions in its denying of history and its attempt to homogenise space, and the same frame can hold events decades apart.

The travelling players are exiles in their own country. Like Bunuel's discreet diners, they can never finish their play: when they do it results in death, stagnation, and a break up of the troupe. They're bewildered like Pirandello's Six Characters, not necessarily searching for an author (they have one - Greek history), but trying to escape him. The great irony is that they cannot remain untainted by the times - one's son is a partisan, another is an informer.

Angelopoulos' use of the medium really does inspire awe. His slow, long takes, long-shot compositions and camera movements, open the mind to new conceptions of time and space, forbidden by the ideologies ruling Greece. The film is full of remarkable, shocking set-pieces; austere quiet bursting into Fellini-esque disruption; revels and song turning into murder and horror; editing so spare that each cut becomes a jolt. Songs, birds and water are the driving metaphors here: how fascism appropriates our minds, imagination and especially our voice; how our reaching for freedom is always curtailed; how history is a never-changing trampling on the vulnerable.

Angelopoulos is a modernist - he still believes in the power of witness, and the ability to assert truth, which is refreshing in these times where irony is confused with indifference. Compare THE TRAVELLING PLAYERS with Nabokov's Bend Sinister, similarly concerned with artists in a totalitarian system. Angelopoulos' systematic attempt to shore fragments against the ruins is denied by Nabokov, who bleakly suggests through fragmentation, distortion and disrupton that there is no shoring, that the only plausible rebellion is madness. Angelopoulos' view is, in many ways, more reassuring.

The film is not without its problems - a raped woman stands up to recite the rape of Greece in a queasy monologue; hateful royalists are coded homosexual to suggest sterility and death; there is, at times, a humourless self-righteousness and portentousness to the film that grates. But, before he slipped into the vague artiness of his later works, its astonishing to think that people could make films like this. In the way that you may not hold Finnegan's Wake or the Sistine Chapel to your heart, THE TRAVELLING PLAYERS is unloveable, but it's a rare experience in the cinema of the sublime. (And, believe me, once you've attuned yourself to Angelopoulos' rhythm, you won't want those four hours to end)

"The Travelling Players", one of the early films of Theo Angelopoulos, shows the vast difference between the talented rising director of 1975 that had something to say, and of the bourgeois famous director of 1998 ("Eternity And A Day") that won the Cannes award but had nothing left to say.

A sprawling epic running at around 4 hours, the film follows a group of touring actors performing a theatrical play across Greece between 1939 and 1952. The focus is on the troubled modern history of Greece during the period (a fascist dictatorship, resistance against the Italians, German occupation, civil war), seen through a series of warped desolate sequences drenched in languor, and also an apotheosis of traditional folklore, music, theater, rural and urban landscapes. Most of these scenes exhibit a rare poetical sensibility, while a few are a bit clumsy, but still interesting.

Couple that with the drama that unfolds within the group of players, and you've got a true masterpiece. Basically what we see is a loose adaptation of Aeschylus' ancient tragedy "Oresteia" (the father Agamemnon, the adulterous mother Clytamnestra, her lover Aegisthus, the avenging daughter Elektra, the avenging son Orestes etc). In the end, the group of actors stands severely rearranged through a painful and dividing historical period, shadows of themselves in a shadow of a country. The film ends as a perfect circle just the way it began, a metaphor for life itself.

A flawed masterpiece from Angelopoulos, the first of a number of great films of his you can pick at if you want.

First and foremost, it is a technical achievement; almost 4 hours and only about 80 cuts! It goes against all we've gotten used to in film story-telling, and does it brilliantly.

The story follows a troupe of actors back and forth through the years 1939 to 1952. They're thrown about by the violent, sometimes absurd tides of Greek history, with victory over the Nazi's giving way to the rise of local fascists at home.

The film is very Brechtian and distanced in style. We hardly get to know the characters at all, despite the running time. It's much more interested in the great tides of politics and time than individuals - which is both its strength and its weakness. I was always interested, sometimes horrified, but rarely touched emotionally. Also, some of the good/bad of the politics felt simplistic.

That said, despite its length, I will re-watch it. I suspect I'll appreciate the amazing scope of it's vision and the bravery of it's style even more without expecting to get caught up in the people in a conventional way.

If you have the chance, get ahold of the 'New Star' DVD, which was only in release a short time. The transfer was supervised and approved by Angelopoulos, and certainly looks wildly better than the commonly found VHS tape.

This is a landmark film, a must see for anyone that wishes to understand modern Greek history and politics. The plot is a loose retelling of the Oresteia cycle of tragedies by Aeschylus--the names of the characters (Orestes, Electra, Chrysothemis) are an obvious hint. Betrayal, revenge and redemption are only part of the story. It takes place in Greece between 1936 and 1952, years filled with fascist dictatorship, war, Axis occupation, civil war and repression. Greece's traumatic history is seen through the eyes of a traveling company of actors, who travel all around provincial towns to perform a single play: "Golfo", a pastoral tragedy told in folk-song-inspired rhyming couplets.

This is not a movie for action-loving, short-attention-span viewers. Angelopoulos and his long-time collaborator, renowned cinematographer Arvanitis, have developed a very distinctive style, and "O Thiassos" is an uncompromising example. There are no close-ups, very little panning, some slow tracking; shots are long (both in point of view and time); almost every shot is filmed in overcast conditions; actors are dwarfed by their surroundings, which are all unglamorous, even depressing in their wartime run-down look. One could say that the purpose is to accentuate the tragic, the sense that the characters are cogs in the machine of history; but ancient tragedy did the same in big style, opulent costumes, and terrifying masks. Angelopoulos' politics induces him to focus on ordinary people in ordinary surroundings instead. The result is strangely, hauntingly lyrical to many; a real downer for some.

The film came out in 1975, a year after the end of the dictatorial right-wing regime of the "colonels" (1967-74), and after decades of repression of communists and their sympathisers. Angelopoulos' point of view is sympathetic to the left/communist side. Under full democracy, it was finally allowed to be expressed. The film helped shape the political sensibilities of a whole generation of Greek baby boomers. Its sixteen-year trek (plod, some would say) through Greek history will probably bewilder non-Greek viewers, but it is a deeply affecting crash-course in what shaped contemporary Greece. It is also an impressive re-interpretation of tragedy, as original as any I have seen on film.

O Thiasos is one of those cerebral and omphaloskeptic movies that just do not happen anymore, shamelessly demanding from the viewer to attune to its eccentric pace. Space and time become pawns in the director's hands, who in effect accomplishes their operatic tranquility in contrast to the static directorial style. In rejecting all conventions of academic narrativity it sustains its formulaic enigma throughout its considerable length, persistently (and obsessively) questioning the freedom of man in a world domineered by irreversible occurrences. Boosted equally by grandeur, mystifying symbolism and pictorial lyricism the film comes to its redeeming conclusion. Enchanting, liberating, revolutionary, focused and precise. Both coldly objective and passionately subjective. A rare masterpiece.

This is my second time watching this film and it's just as great as I remember it being. In regards to Angelopoulous, the only other film I've seen from him is "Landscape in the Mist", which I also really enjoyed, but I like this one much more. "Landscape in the Mist" is definitely the more accessible of the two films since it has a greater emphasis on characterization, but while I enjoyed that film quite a bit, I prefer this film for its greater focus on its mysterious charm.

I stopped caring about the story and the characters about half an hour into this film and instead focused on the film's style. Angelopoulos seamlessly blends personal and political history in a number of hypnotic ways in just about every single sequence. And this is accomplished despite the film being almost four hours long! Throughout all the long takes in the film, Angelopoulos managed to drop my jaw a number of times. For one, he found all kinds of creative ways for the various political figures and set pieces to creep into the frame and intrude on or interrupt the characters lives. For example, the film sometimes showed the sounds of a patrol of Nazis or a political march in the distance get louder and louder until the characters eventually entered the frame. Also, sometimes when the characters would exit from the frame of a shot, it would linger in that location for a while until a soldier or a military vehicle would enter the frame, often indicating the film is jumping from past to present. This unconventional shooting style gave a hypnotic style to the film which I found quite mesmerizing and poetic.

The way violence is shown in this film is also impressive, specifically in regards to which bits are shown onscreen and which are shown offscreen. A recurring aspect to the violence was that, right when a violent bit would start, the characters would run away from the frame and the sounds of gunfire, explosions, or screaming could be heard in the distance, creating a strong sense of claustrophobia and (at times) fear of the unknown in the process. In many other cases, the violence served to prevent the actors from performing time and time again. The main highlight to the violence though is a lengthy sequence in the middle where the actors come across a gunfight between a patrol of Nazis and a group of Communists while sneaking through a town at night. The way the violence and the military units in this sequence are framed (they're only shown through the gaps between various houses and stores), in addition to a dose of surrealism, is nothing short of perfect.

Really, this film kept me glued to the screen from beginning to end in a way that few films have accomplished, and that it accomplishes this in spite of its length makes me all the more impressed by it. Some people may take issue with its lack of characterization, but I didn't mind that at all since it contributed to the film's mysterious power. Of course, I understand that many people will be intimidated by this film's length (which is understandable as I was worried it would be a chore to get through when I first watched it), but I still recommend giving it a chance anyways.

We watch movies to forget the true banality of life. Movies are packed with witty, non-stop dialogue, head-spinning action which takes place in a short period of time, and, of course, beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous women. We are so conditioned by contemporary movies, we forget or want to forget ordinarily life.

The Traveling Players by Angelopoulos has none of this. The dialogue is ordinary, spoken by ordinary people, by ordinary men and women. When they speak it is not rapid-fire, non-stop delivery, but ordinary speech most times separated by long periods of silence.

The beauty of The Traveling Players - or any film by Angelopoulos - the ordinary is beautiful. The sweeping, long scenes in this movie are stunning. We quickly identify with one or more of the traveling players. In the dialogue we can hear words spoken by a close friend or acquaintance. When the film ends nearly four hours later, you will want to see more.

This movie should not be missed.

The Travelling Players is possibly the greatest movie in the history of Greek cinema. It is directed by the world-renowned Greek director Theo Angelopoulos and it presents the life in Greece from 1939 to 1952 through a family of travelling provincial players. It explores the political history of Greece during a very dramatic period, that includes dictatorship, the WWII outbreak, the Italian invasion and the subsequent German occupation and it continues with the liberation of the country and the very bloody Civil War.

The Travelling Players was a very controversial movie. The film was to participate officially in the Cannes Film Festival, but the conservative Greek government, sought (and failed) to prevent this to happen, because the film tells the modern Greek history through a left- Marxist perspective.

Angelopoulos proves that he's a master filmmaker on every level. From direction and writing to every technical aspect. Cinematography in particular.

Also, the music by Loukianos Kilaidonis is fantastic and elevates the film in a different level.

The Travelling Players is a masterpiece that everyone should watch.

This is the only film of Angelopoulos I really like, all those after it are just too much (or too little). It seems it is common practice for the best Greek films to be made under the harshest conditions - literary under fire! Thiasos is not an exception: it was made in about 2 years during the worst part of the military junta. Angelopoulos and his associates were planning to leave Greece on completion; during filming he would tell the police it was an action movie, a Greek western! Besides all that the core story derives from ancient Greek tragedy (Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides) and that is somewhat stunning.

Not only is O thiasos arguably the greatest Greek movie of all time, it is also a movie that breathes Greece in every possible way: Greek history (the movie covers the period of 1939-1952), Greek mythology (clear parallels are drawn between the modern day events and Oresteia, a tragedy written by Aeschylus) Greek folk tradition (the main arc of the movie revolves around a theatrical troupe trying to perform a standard Greek play, Golfo The Shepherdess, full of folk songs), Greek politics (the origin of evil, every conflict is founded on political reasons and each time forces the group to stop their performance), Greek landscapes (the scenery matches the overall mood, for every glimpse of beauty, we abruptly return to the harsh reality and get reminded of all the ugliness, as poverty and war have left behind endless ruins) they all blend together in a four hour epic.

Be prepared that this is by no means an easy movie, it plays by its own rules. Apart from the fact that its gigantic conception would be better understood through some familiarity with the aspects of Greek culture I described above, the narration runs on multiple levels and is full of symbolisms. Also, it seamlessly flows through space and time, demanding the audience's full attention in order to follow the story. At the same time, the slow pace and the long shots make it hard for the viewer to get emotionally involved, the main characters remain abstract figures, all the pain and fear is portrayed in a distanced, non-sentimental way.

The movie ends where it began, a painful metaphor for the endless circle of blood and violence that the travelling players - and Greece - can't escape.

All in all, I'd highly recommend this movie to anyone no matter his taste and preferences. It's a different ball game compared to the average movie, it will open a new world that one might or might not enjoy and might or might not choose to explore futher. I don't mean to imply that this type of cinema is inherently better, but you have to give yourself the chance before deciding, it's quite the experience.

Sixteen years of civil war and social unrest follow a small band of itinerant actors, who offstage are a reluctant audience to the much larger drama of current events. Director Theodoros Angelopoulos is virtually unknown in this country, and it might be a simple question of stamina: this four-hour long Greek tragedy is certainly impressive, but it's also a motion picture deprived of its requisite motion. Angelopoulos favors long takes with extended tracking shots, and seems to be stubbornly opposed to any idea of creative editing. The technique sometimes works, for example when a scene shifts years forward in time within a single, sustained shot, or when the director places what little action there is behind a static camera, focused instead on a neutral image, perhaps a brick wall or a beach at low tide (imagine the masterpiece he could have made by leaving the lens cap on as well). The effect can be hypnotic, but anyone who thinks filmgoing was meant to be an invigorating experience will likely find it a monument to tedium.

This was a long Angelopoulos war movie...

Necessary to underline the long battle of the country to preserve its roots in a time of transition and also to show its slow resolve. In its first half the identity of the country stays in its actors that, during a war, are still trying to entertain with subversive messages but also make a living. They are the resistance, keeping the past alive through the folklore plays, keeping the culture alive in these times filled with turmoil.

Actors are like soldiers in the first half and are fighting the nazis with folklore ideology and metaphors. When one is captured or killed the ones that remain have to fight even harder, but still smartly, low-key. In the second half we have the same but the actors on the other side have changed, with different ideologies but who also want one thing - to eradicate the culture that was there originally and replace it by force with a foreign one. There were two forces who fought for the soul of Greece, the communists (Russia) and the imperialists (UK). All the while, its people, being split, are trying to keep the soul alive. Fundamentals of a war, after all.

All of these big-picture events have a small-picture effect on its citizens, the theatre troupe, in this case, where the changing of generations and mentality takes place...also by force.

It's a long one, one that has to interest you to keep you engaged because Theo's style are these sweeping shots, long takes, silent scenes where nothing much is happening but volumes are written about the meaning.

Before Yorgos Lanthimos Theodoros Angelopoulos was one of the few international Greek directors. His films however were never mainstream, and there were a couple of reasons for that. His films were long ("The travelling players" 3h 50m) and slow ("The travelling players" has an average shot length of approximately 3 m). On top of that they presuppose a certain knowledge of Greek history and Greek mythology.

Angelopoulos had a preference to build up his oeuvre out of trilogy's. "The travelling players" is part 2 of the histotry-trilogy and treats the period 1939 - 1952. This were 13 tumultuous years for Greece with the following governments c.q. Events:

Dictatorship of Metaxas War with Italy Occupation by Nazi Germany Civil war between State troups and Communist insurgents Intervention by the Allied forces leading to the dictatorship of general Papagos.

This period is seen through the eyes of a group of travelling players. In the past this perspective was also used by directors as Yasujiro Ozo ("Floating weeds", 1934 & 1959), Ingmar Bergman ("Sawdust and tinsell", 1953) and last but not least Federico Fellini ("La strada", 1954).

Typical Angelopoulos is however that in order to understand the members of the travelling players you need to have some knowledge of Greek mythology. Their names (and views?) are derived from the ancient play "Elektra" by Sophocles.

As can be seen from the resume of the Greek history from 1939 until 1952 given above, democratic government is the great absentee. In many of the cities visited by the travelling players they meet a sinister atmosphere. An atmosphere that reminded me very much of "Werckmeister Harmoniac" (2000, Bela Tarr). By Tarr the atmosphere refers to an abstract situation, Aneglopoulos however applies it to concrete history.

At different moments in the film members of the group have a monologue of nearly 10 minutes. During this monologue they are filmed in close up. For me these scenes were the highlights of the film. The rest of the film mainly uses overview shots. How beautiful they may be, they do create distance. I can't help wondering if using more close ups would have made the film more accessible. In my opinion a missed opportunity!

If you don't know Greek history from World War II to the 1950s and can withstand the nearly 4 hours and frustrating time shifts then this might be a film you enjoy. I did not.

Using a group of travelling actors and a play they perform across the country and the years this is film that keeps its distance from any emotional engagement with very long takes, almost always in wide shots. Occasionally characters talk to the audience directly to detail what has happened. There are revolutionary movements, musera, and rape, but these are presented in a distant and cold fashion and it's hard to get involved or care about any specific characters.

Considered a masterpiece and on the lust of 1001 movies to see before you die, you'll have to "gird your loins" to last the distance.