#20: Sunset (2018) (dir. Lászlò Nemes)

It’s not often that one might think of Thomas Pynchon while watching a World War I period piece focusing on an introverted woman longing for self-discovery. (Granted I have yet to read Gravity’s Rainbow but I’ll get there). Especially since there isn’t that wild word soup or side characters showing up to confuse both the protagonist or the audience. Yet that author certainly had a penchant for enigmatic heroines leading us through difficult terrain from time to time. Times of transition that have left permanent scars on both the individual and humanity at large. The themes of Pynchon are obscured and shrouded but if you get out the microscope, you can see the basic building blocks of what kept him up at night.

He wrote about moments when society is collapsing and trying to pick itself back up. The mysteries of the external world being revealed, yet somehow they only lead to more questions. Laszlo Nemes’ Sunset definitely has a heroine who rarely lays her cards out on the table while marching towards an uncertain state of being, in a way that only becomes more enriching and mysterious as the time keeps moving forward. The camera moves with her. We move with her. The film segues into a marvel of meandering multitudes that seems to leave out proper punctuation and brevity in its execution. (Okay so Pynchon, Kafka and Cormac McCarthy). There are beautifully choreographed digressions, unresolved mysteries, random outbursts of the unexpected and so much more to commend.

It’s not a horror movie but it gave me nightmares about not being able to escape conflict. It’s an experience that viewers don’t always have the opportunity to partake in, a labyrinth that is difficult to shake and process in ways that only great films can achieve. One has to prepare for the way it engineers quiet tension that feels implosive until it does eventually explode with violent confrontation. It’s a stunning achievement that also defies convention and expectation throughout.

Sunset takes place in 1913 Budapest, in the world of sophisticated and power-hungry hat fashioners. Hats being a primary emblem of wealth and establishment. Millinery is a huge fashion commodity during a time when various wealthy characters compete for royal favors and indulge in a hedonistic existence in the waning days of calm just before the storm of World War I.

At the center of this mostly plotless journey is a young woman, Irisz Leiter (a stunning Juli Jakab), a rather reticent orphan who has returned to Budapest to seek a career at an established, prestigious hat shop, which belonged to her parents before their untimely deaths. Another unexpected turn of events leads her to uncover that she may or may not have an estranged sibling as well. She is repeatedly told to steer clear of him since he has committed some rather heinous crimes and may be affiliated with the wrong political faction.

Curiosity gets the best of her as it would with just about anyone who wants to rediscover their roots and find their place in the world. The problem is that Irisz gets swept up in difficult situations that are hard to navigate through and we as viewers experience this firsthand. There are other characters that pop in and out, with situations that arise without resolution, none of which necessarily add to nor take away from this journey without a clear destination. Sometimes there is no chance for closure or resolution especially when we’re lost both inside of ourselves and the outside world.

Some critics have stated that the film itself is difficult to navigate through because it feels constricted and that’s an understandable position to take. We are stuck in her point of view in ways that feel There isn’t as much plot or narrative drive as there is ever-changing mood and restlessness. There’s simply no arguing that Nemes captures a true sense of befuddlement that our protagonist experiences.

This often involves a cavalcade of physical imposition including wandering aimlessly alone or being inundated with crowds swarming, all filled with rage. That nervous energy and urgency is transferred to the audience, sustained for nearly the entire running time to an exhausting degree. Irisz is exhausted with what’s taking place so we in turn carry on that seem sense of depletion. Yet this is an experience where the filmmaking is what sticks with me more than anything. Probably because it’s not something I was prepared for entirely.

Though if anyone has seen Nemes’ last film, Son of Saul, the intention is clear that this vision is all about enveloping the viewer in a challenging subjective form. That earlier film depicted the horrors of Auschwitz in a way we had never seen before, it (literally) followed a single character in almost real time, looking over his shoulder.  Many of the atrocities were just out of frame or out of focus and the immersive sound design make the unseen terrors even more devastating.  It forced the viewer to image the unimaginable.

His previous work was filtered through the point of view of inmate Saul, an Auschwitz prisoner made to bury the bodies of murdered Jews. The horrors of that story were as brutal as one might anticipate, while Sunset provides shocks to the system on a more sporadic basis. Meaning this often becomes a rather unpredictable journey that asks for its audience to be patient and steadfast.

Cinematographer Mátyás Erdérly once again chooses to shoot in 35mm in a way that feels truly intimate and looks stunning. Several over-the-shoulder shots in which Irisz is blurry while what’s in front of her is clear. Take note of the impeccable opening shot which sets the tone immediately as a veil is lifted from Irisz’s face. There’s a sublime beauty to this composition but it also takes its time, as does the film itself clocking in at 144 minutes. Sustaining a very narrow depth-of-field, the camera’s focus picks out individuals for brief encounters before they vanish into the background. 

A relatively unknown Juli Jakab also gives a true breakout performance that is not unlike what Vicki Krieps accomplished in Phantom Thread. There is more than meets the eye in both characters that both actresses convey in ways that aren’t immediately apparent. Jakab is consistent and does a remarkable job concealing something beneath that splendor and that unyielding stare. She had to carry us through the entire film, frame for frame, and does so in ways that few have before. Sometimes she holds on an expression in a manner that seems unreal or untrue to how someone would really react in the same situation. There’s no denying how hypnotizing it is just to watch her body language or moments of quiet stillness especially when faced with the unrelenting patriarchy of its time and place.

What we’re left with is a story about coming to terms with what’s underneath the surface and the inevitable changes to come. It’s less about the confrontational trauma that ensues in a film like Son of Saul and more about the internal apprehensions that brew when identity has come into question. A lot of the shock in that film came from what we’re not seeing - it’s mostly implication and the idea of the horror taking place. Sometimes the worst kind of conflict comes from within, and we watch Irisz face this in a way that isn’t easily digestible. We get to experience tumultuous context during World War I in an environment that we possibly know very little about, through the eyes of a woman who knows very little about how to react.

The sound design is equally remarkable. Nemes’s aural world was far more expansive than the restricted visuals, with layers of unseen events and voices coming from all directions. Sunset is also a very musical film, there are several scenes with live music with a refined Hungarian style: a string quartet, a young boy playing violin, even Bliss plays piano during one scene of dialogue with Írisz.  The overlayed film score often adds a sinister dissonance to the pleasant melodies.

The one lingering puzzlement surrounds the coda, though it’s partially an homage to Kubrick’s Paths of Glory (1957) but with a twist. Elegant anxiety and submission seem to be what Nemes is able to capture but sometimes to a fault. It flows like a memory play in a mind that’s on the verge of breaking down. It doesn’t entirely sustain the whole way through. The opaque conclusion could have benefited from a little less ambiguity but it does invite the viewer to think a little bit more deeply than expected. There is a feeling of incompletion or inevitability depending on one’s interpretation. I don’t know if I will ever come to complete terms with how everything wraps up in the final act to give it an even higher score. It’s still undeniable to me, something I didn’t expect to become a favorite because of its narrative sidesteps late in the game, but some films sneak up on you and take up residence in the neighborhood. It’s best to leave the porch light on.

There’s so much to savor in what we are presented with here - the acting (often dialogue-free), the hats (you all know I love hats), the fashion, the fear, the eruptions of violence and tension. The troubled looks on many faces and the weird sense that things are getting worse before they can get better. The camerawork makes you wonder - maybe life is chaos and we’re all just trying to survive through it and that’s what gives us meaning in the end. War is truly something that no human being should bear witness to but what do we do when we are faced with the worst? Sunset asks this question through a cipher that in the end ends up holding her own when all along, we assumed that she wouldn’t. With every daylight fading, there’s usually a brand new morning where we have to face the fragility of existence even if we thought we’d never live to see another sunrise.