(No pun intended)
Conversely, it also makes you want to throw up your insides.
Ryan and I had read some reviews on Netflix before renting this, and were forewarned: this is the grossest move you will ever see. It wasn't a horror film (at least, it wasn't marketed as that, but I'm sure one could argue.) The Hungarian film follows the legacy of three males: father, son, and grandson, chronologically. That's about the only part of the story that is obvious and somewhat makes sense. Not to say that the oddities this movie displays are neither entertaining nor meaningful. It's just that there aren't many films with the - pardon my french, but I feel it's a good analogy given the source material - balls to tell a dramatic story in such an utterly grotesque and revealing way.
Without going into too much detail (the details are better observed firsthand, as they are quite unbelievable), the three generations of men are portrayed within their own acts, which in turn have their own theme. This is not explicitly said, yet it is apparent once we get into the meat of the story. And yes, meat is at the heart of this tale in more ways than one.
Our first protagonist, Morosgoványi Vendel, is who we open on, in the midst of some literal playing with fire. It is clear from the uncomfortable close-ups of flame-on-skin that this is not just a game, but a sexual obsession. And so, as Morosgoványi's tale goes on, we see that much of his life on a drab, nondescript farm is spent pining over the sins of the flesh - both animate and inanimate. Quick flashes of females' wet skin, inter-cut with his lieutenant's musings on female anatomy set the tone. Poor Vengel is subservient to this family, and as a result tries to escape through his fantasies; one of which includes a pig.
The cinematography is one of the best qualities of this film, in that it really takes you up close and personal. You flinch at the sight of fire near skin, a pig is butchered too close for comfort, and at one point in the film, you literally are inside the character, mirroring the feeling of being gutted. The shots are always interesting and meticulously composed, and the director, György Pálfi, does not shy from forcing you to take in the scene fully before he allows you to look away.
Next to the lustful context of Vengel's tale, the remaining two acts are centered upon two other vices: gluttony and vanity, though one is more obvious than the other. Vengel's illegitimate child, Kálmán, raised by the family his father served, becomes a speed-eater, and we are forced to experience these gag-inducing moments of slurping and subsequent hurling right from the get-go. Pálfi wastes no time.
After a life of humiliation and unsuccessful attempts at being speed-eater champion of the world, Kálmán resorts to piling all his feelings of inadequacy onto his comparably smaller, rail-thin son, Lajoska. Instead of doting on his only child, who runs a seemingly successful yet incredibly creepy Taxidermy business, he fawns on his over-fed cats and boasts about his days of gorging glory. Lajoska, much like his long-dead grandfather, is a servant and tied inextricably to his duties of feeding and cleaning his now obese father, who seems content to be so. We know that this story cannot have a happy ending, but we wish it did. The finale is a most foul one indeed, but if you can stomach the gore and see the deeper meaning, it is both a haunting and melancholy Shakespearean end to a family legacy.
