November

Based on a best-selling Estonian novel, "November" is a mixture of magic, black humor and romantic love. The story is set in a pagan Estonian village where werewolves, the plague, and spirits roam. The villagers' main problem is how to survive the cold, dark winter. And, to that aim, nothing is taboo. People steal from each other, from their German manor lords, and from spirits, the devil and even Christ.

The jaded genre fan, this reviewer included, rarely says "what the heck??" when watching a film. Because, frankly, once you have reviewed over 6,000 titles including some of Takashi Miike's craziest work ("Visitor Q") you feel like you have seen it all. But then comes the opening scene of "November", leaving you wide-eyed and full of glee. What is this medieval, cow-stealing robot? This magical creature is a "kratt", which comes from Estonian mythology. If you happen to be like me, you don't know anything about Estonian mythology. Well, a kratt is a collection of sticks, straw and farm implements that is granted life by the devil after its make offers up some blood, representing their soul. The maker then commands the kratt, who spends most of its time stealing things – including cows – for its master. If someone is especially clever, they can use blackcurrant berries rather than blood; the devil apparently does not check very closely, and you end up getting a kratt without forfeiting your soul. (You probably anger the devil in the process, but that is a whole other story.) Besides the kratt, the first thing that stands out is the beautiful cinematography in grey, creating a bleak world and occasionally the picture even looks washed out. Often, black and white looks better than color, in part because it allows for greater contrast. Interestingly, it looks great here despite the lack of contrast; this is a murky land, and it is viewed in a murky fashion. Such a choice seems appropriate for this village of squalor, and it causes me to wonder if perhaps Robert Eggers' "The Witch" might have benefited from black and white? While there are multiple plots and subplots occurring simultaneously, the central focus is a young woman named Liina (Rea Lest) who is hopelessly and forlornly in love with a village boy named Hans (Jorgen Liik). There romance is pretty standard, the typically boy meets girl story in a small village. Except that one of the two runs the risk of becoming a werewolf. And yes, this actually makes complete sense.

Rea Lest is a new actress and will not be familiar to North American audiences. Jorgen Liik is slightly more experienced, but again will probably not appear familiar. The one actor who should definitely stand out is Dieter Laser, who appears as the baron. Active since the 1960s, today Laser is almost universally recognized for his starring roles in "The Human Centipede" and its second sequel. His role is important not just because he is a baron, but because he represents the more mainstream, anti-pagan religious and Christian views in the film.

A scene at the church suggests a rejection of Christ in favor of folk magic, but instead we have to wonder if they really accept a mixture of the two? They clearly believe in the folk ways (werewolves, talking with spirits) but do not reject the Christian views entirely. One hunter uses blessed communion wafers in his hunting, believing that Christ guides him. There is also a preoccupation with souls; whether longing for a soul, selling your soul, or living without a soul, the theme of souls comes up again and again.

After exceptional cinematography, the thing that stands out most is the menacing music, creating a constant sense of unease. There is even the inclusion of "Blue Danube" into the score. For reasons unknown, that song has always left me feeling uncomfortable, at least as far back as 1992 when it was incorporated into the video game "Alone in the Dark". It seems no less unsettling to me here.

"November" plays July 23, 2017 at the Fantasia International Film Festival, and is one of the more highly-anticipated films of the 3-week schedule. For those who cannot attend, the movie was picked up by Oscilloscope, who will be releasing the film in theaters this Fall. This film will open doors for writer-director Rainer Sarnet.

In a striking, highly expressive black and white, the film tells a tragic love story with the rhythms and themes of a fairy tale. The world is that of folklore, the characters are fantastic and metaphysical: there is the Devil, there is the Plague, there is the Witch, there are the peasants who sell their souls to the Devil to get surreal metal workers in exchange (peasant work tools tied together with, instead of a head, a bovine skull: they are the "kratt" of Estonian folklore). Everywhere there is theft, deception and death, and on the eve of all saints' days the dead come to visit the living, to eat with them at table and to claim their jewellery. And yet, in spite of all this, we are not in the realm of horror at all, but of the romantic fairy tale: Liina's love for her young peer Hans, who in turn loves the local baron's daughter with an impossible love, is the soul of the whole film. And the final underwater kiss of the two boys restores to the viewer the poetry of the fairy tales of our childhood.

A beautiful work embellished by a beautiful photography.

If you like surrealism and dark fairy-tales, and you haven't seen November yet, watch it before reading my review, because I wouldn't want to influence your expectations.

When I started watching November all I knew was IMDb's Drama, Fantasy, Horror categorization. Little did I know that I was about to experience two hours of a beauty so mesmerizing that it would almost bring tears to my eyes.

November is one of those rare cinematic creations that transcends the medium from mere entertainment into a profound work of art. I can think of only a handful of directors that have lifted the art of cinema to this level, such as Akira Kurosawa, Stanley Kubrick, David Lynch and Lars von Trier.

November is a surreal, dark fairy-tale that takes place in a mediaeval Estonian village. The story is a mix of Shakespearean romantic drama and rural folklore that pleasantly reminded me of the magical countryside fairy-tale atmosphere in the works of the Croatian naive art painter Ivan Generalic, as well as the imaginative surreal comics by the Greek-French comic creator Fred (Frédéric Aristidès).

The most breathtaking aspect of November is its cinematography. The film is shot in moody, darkly romantic black and white photography with beautiful lighting and screen compositions.

But November is filled with beauty in multiple layers. A beautiful soundtrack - incorporating Beethoven's Mondschein-Sonate - intensifies the atmosphere, the costumes, sets and overall art direction are gorgeous, and there's even lyrical poetry of a poignant grace. It will be a challenge to create something more romantic than November has established.

Last but not least, the casting and actors are also laudable. The two main female characters radiate a magnetic beauty, and the peasants look like they have been time-transported from an actual mediaeval village.

I rented this film on a lark not knowing anything but the brief synopsis on Netflix. It languished a few days atop my Blu-ray player, then last night I popped it in so I could send it back. Holy cow!!! (an actual reference to an unforgettable image within the film!) from the very first exquisitely rendered silver-toned b&w shot I felt mesmerized by the films originality, the simplicity and clarity of its absurdity, the openness and uniqueness of every actor's face, the alchemy of the cinematography that strips its images to the essential and presents every scene like a haiku. Sometimes surreal films can be all style and no substance, but not here. The way the characters interact and how the director (Rainer Sarnet) places the camera to capture nuances in each character, the relationships all resonate as identifiable and real. That said, you are so thrown off balance by the strangeness of what you're actually viewing....you find yourself constantly trying to get your bearings. This is a masterpiece to be surrendered to. When a film maker is this kind of visionary...all you can do is trust he'll take you somewhere you've never been before. I look forward to taking this journey again. A new favorite.

This was a really slow burn of a film, but it was also kind of intense at points. The cinematography was incredible, and I enjoyed the interplay of the pagan and Christian beliefs. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I would watch this again.