Title: Spilt Blood Of The Dead
Review: Exhaustive, claustrophobic, circular, discordant, hopeless, weeping, wailing, and a gnashing of teeth, Tarr's camera work and photo direction is powerful (especially during the dance when the wife is sitting, and sitting, and sitting, quietly repressing her pent-up frustrations...), a must-watch short film for Bela Tarr fans.Though in caves pursued he lie,Even then he fears attacks.Coming forth the land to spy,Even a home he finds he lacks.Mountain, vale - go where he would,Grief and sorrow all the same -Underneath a sea of blood,While above a sea of flame.`Neath the fort, a ruin now,Joy and pleasure erst were found,Only groans and sighs, I trow,In its limits now abound.But no freedom's flowers returnFrom the spilt blood of the dead,And the tears of slavery burn,Which the eyes of orphans shed.
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