Rob Tregenza
German businessman Carsten Neuer travels to Norway to finish the impossible translation of some Norwegian poems by Tarjei Vesaas into Chinese, a project of his late wife. He hires Niko, a down-on-his-luck tour guide, to drive him to the poet's home and places of inspiration to stimulate his own translation. On the road, the ghost of Carsten's wife appears to him, while Niko struggles with the sudden consequences of his girlfriend's pregnancy. On this journey, two very different men come to realize the transforming power of love, the limits of language, and the human need for friendship.
This story takes place in a small town on the Hungarian Plain. In a provincial town, which is surrounded with nothing else but frost. It is bitterly cold weather — without snow. Even in this bewildered cold hundreds of people are standing around the circus tent, which is put up in the main square, to see — as the outcome of their wait — the chief attraction, the stuffed carcass of a real whale. The people are coming from everywhere. From the neighboring settlings, even from quite far away parts of the country. They are following this clumsy monster as a dumb, faceless, rag-wearing crowd. This strange state of affairs — the appearance of the foreigners, the extreme frost — disturbs the order of the small town. Ambitious personages of the story feel they can take advantage of this situation. The tension growing to the unbearable is brought to explosion by the figure of the Prince, who is pretending facelessness. Even his mere appearance is enough to break loose destructive emotions...
An American art dealer (Miguel Sandoval), who specializes in southwestern topaz, arrives by train in Liverpool. Similarly, a very proper British art dealer (Alex Cox), who specializes in African art, arrives in the same hotel. The two meet in the hotel's abandoned restaurant and decide to set off in finding an evening meal, which becomes problematic immediately when the Brit reveals he is vegetarian. While following their pursuit of a mutually acceptable meal, the main point of the film is their discourse en route to their various attempts at an eatery.
Against the barren wintry backdrop of a psychiatric hospital, inpatients and authority figures drift through turgid psychological states. We meet the artist Jean and his lover Monica, patients of the facility, and several characters circling its periphery: a guard, an Episcopalian priest, and a church organist. Minimalizing dialogue and plot intricacy, Tregenza concedes only kernels of information, demanding that the viewer breathe dimensionality into his archetypes. Acting out primal instincts of lust, envy, fear, and love, subjects teeter vulnerably on the brink of sanity and insanity, freedom and repression in their attempts to navigate their existence.
It consists of only nine ten minute segments. Each shot/sequence was filmed only once in 35mm film with direct sound. The complexity and ground breaking originality of these shots has obtained widespread international acclaim.
