Hungarian auteur Bela Tarr's The Turin Horse, an apocalyptic tale based on the story of the philosopher Nietzsche who, seeing an old horse being beaten by its cabbie when it refuses to move, rushed up to put his arms round the animal.
In Tarr's take, the horse is the property of a peasant who lives in a barren shack with his daughter. They have a stove for cooking potatoes, their only food, a well for water and oil lamps for light. Outside a permanent gale blows.
One day the saddled-up horse refuses to move and later stops eating and drinking. Finally, father and daughter wake up in pitch darkness. There is no daylight, the oil for the lamps has run out and the horse looks balefully at them from the stable. It may be the end of the world.
The film, which Tarr says is his last, is made in black and white and creates an extraordinary atmosphere as a daily routine is endlessly repeated over a throbbing score. Tarr manages to say a lot with very little, the exact opposite of many films now. He may never win any popularity stakes but his place high up in the annals of European cinema is surely secure.
The Turin Horse
