2009's Katalin Varga is the feature film debut of British auteur director and screenwriter Peter Strickland, who initially funded the film using money from a bequest from his uncle. Shot in Romania with a largely Romanian cast, it lacks the humour and eccentricity of his subsequent films, and is as close to conventional as he has ever been, since it is - in essence - a revenge thriller. And yet at the same time it defies convention with a plot that constantly surprises, and visually provides a striking demonstration of Strickland's talents.
The plot sees Hilda Péter's eponymous Katalin Varga forced to leave her village with her son Orbán when her husband discovers that Orbán isn't his. But whatever her husband may think she didn't cheat on him: the truth is far darker, as we discover that Orbán's father raped her, and she sets out to gain revenge on both him and his accomplice. And so the scene is set for a traditional revenge drama, but Strickland has something more idiosyncratic in mind. Thus, whilst Katalin finds and kills Gergely (who watched and laughed whilst she was raped), when she eventually locates her rapist Antal Borlan, nothing plays out in a predictable fashion.
The normal trajectory of a revenge drama is disrupted when Orbán starts to bond with Antal before Antal remembers who Katalin really is. There's a gripping scene when Katalin is taken boating by Antal and his wife Etelka, to whom she recounts her rape at the hands of two men years ago; Antal looks increasingly gripped by cold realisation, in a master class in facial acting by actor Tibor Pálffy. With Orbán and Etelka unaware that Antal raped Katalin, the film's last act is increasingly uncomfortable and tense, and there's a fascinatingly bizarre, matter of fact conversation between Antal and Katalin as they discuss what is best for Orbán. As Katalin says, "My God, this so different to what I imagined." So too is the denouement: in a ending that Hollywood might baulk at, when Etelka overhears the truth, she hangs herself, prompting Antal to reveal the truth to Orbán, who flees into the nearby forest; the film concludes with Antal trying to find him whilst, unbeknown to him, Katalin is caught and killed by Gergely's brother-in-law and his accomplice, who are out to avenge Katalin's seemingly motiveless murder of a man they think is innocent.
Thus, Strickland takes all the clichés of a revenge tragedy, jumbles them up and provides a relentlessly bleak conclusion that audiences are likely to find completely unexpected. But perhaps it was signposted all along. The whole film sees Katalin surrounded by men who are misogynistic or actually violent. The opening scene is out of sequence, occurring later in the film and showing Gergely's brother-in-law and his friend searching for Katalin. The director builds an atmosphere of slowly creeping dread through a combination of camerawork, editing and atmospheric scoring. The film is shot on location in the Carpathian mountains, which Strickland exploits to maximum effect, making the rural hinterlands in which the story is set look unnervingly bleak and shooting forest scenes in a way that invokes primal fears drawn from European folklore. Cinematographer Márk Györi makes creative use of hand-held cameras, for example during the scene of Katalin murdering Gergely, which is shot in extreme close-up that limits what we can actually see whilst making it quite clear what is happening. During the boat scene, the characters are shot from within the middle of the boat, which nauseatingly rotates faster and faster as Katalin's grim monologue reaches its climax.
The cast, largely unknown to Western audiences, is excellent, with Péter giving a startling performance in the title role, and child actor Tankó giving a very creditable performance as Orbán (Fatma Mohamed, who has appeared in all of Strickland's films to date, has a small role). The film is completed by the atmospheric soundtrack, which is drawn from eclectic sources, including Strickland's own Sonic Catering Band. If there's a flaw here, it is that there is an element of padding, mostly during Katalin and Orbán's journey across the countryside, but this gives Strickland plenty of time to generate atmosphere and establish the characters. Katalin Varga heralded the arrival of a distinctive filmmaking talent, even if it only vaguely hints at how idiosyncratic his subsequent film output would prove to be.
The plot sees Hilda Péter's eponymous Katalin Varga forced to leave her village with her son Orbán when her husband discovers that Orbán isn't his. But whatever her husband may think she didn't cheat on him: the truth is far darker, as we discover that Orbán's father raped her, and she sets out to gain revenge on both him and his accomplice. And so the scene is set for a traditional revenge drama, but Strickland has something more idiosyncratic in mind. Thus, whilst Katalin finds and kills Gergely (who watched and laughed whilst she was raped), when she eventually locates her rapist Antal Borlan, nothing plays out in a predictable fashion.
The normal trajectory of a revenge drama is disrupted when Orbán starts to bond with Antal before Antal remembers who Katalin really is. There's a gripping scene when Katalin is taken boating by Antal and his wife Etelka, to whom she recounts her rape at the hands of two men years ago; Antal looks increasingly gripped by cold realisation, in a master class in facial acting by actor Tibor Pálffy. With Orbán and Etelka unaware that Antal raped Katalin, the film's last act is increasingly uncomfortable and tense, and there's a fascinatingly bizarre, matter of fact conversation between Antal and Katalin as they discuss what is best for Orbán. As Katalin says, "My God, this so different to what I imagined." So too is the denouement: in a ending that Hollywood might baulk at, when Etelka overhears the truth, she hangs herself, prompting Antal to reveal the truth to Orbán, who flees into the nearby forest; the film concludes with Antal trying to find him whilst, unbeknown to him, Katalin is caught and killed by Gergely's brother-in-law and his accomplice, who are out to avenge Katalin's seemingly motiveless murder of a man they think is innocent.
Thus, Strickland takes all the clichés of a revenge tragedy, jumbles them up and provides a relentlessly bleak conclusion that audiences are likely to find completely unexpected. But perhaps it was signposted all along. The whole film sees Katalin surrounded by men who are misogynistic or actually violent. The opening scene is out of sequence, occurring later in the film and showing Gergely's brother-in-law and his friend searching for Katalin. The director builds an atmosphere of slowly creeping dread through a combination of camerawork, editing and atmospheric scoring. The film is shot on location in the Carpathian mountains, which Strickland exploits to maximum effect, making the rural hinterlands in which the story is set look unnervingly bleak and shooting forest scenes in a way that invokes primal fears drawn from European folklore. Cinematographer Márk Györi makes creative use of hand-held cameras, for example during the scene of Katalin murdering Gergely, which is shot in extreme close-up that limits what we can actually see whilst making it quite clear what is happening. During the boat scene, the characters are shot from within the middle of the boat, which nauseatingly rotates faster and faster as Katalin's grim monologue reaches its climax.
The cast, largely unknown to Western audiences, is excellent, with Péter giving a startling performance in the title role, and child actor Tankó giving a very creditable performance as Orbán (Fatma Mohamed, who has appeared in all of Strickland's films to date, has a small role). The film is completed by the atmospheric soundtrack, which is drawn from eclectic sources, including Strickland's own Sonic Catering Band. If there's a flaw here, it is that there is an element of padding, mostly during Katalin and Orbán's journey across the countryside, but this gives Strickland plenty of time to generate atmosphere and establish the characters. Katalin Varga heralded the arrival of a distinctive filmmaking talent, even if it only vaguely hints at how idiosyncratic his subsequent film output would prove to be.