How the fuck you gonna film that, wise-ass? Show two dudes in a waiting room reading the Hungarian equivalent of People magazine for about ten seconds and move on? Fade in and out of time a few times with the duo in different poses to show the passage of time? Repurpose the "take a number" gag from the end of Beetlejuice? No! You show two silent dudes in the same damn position for ten straight minutes as they wait, and wait, and wait. You hear the clattering of those "half-moon metaled heels." You see the "benches polished to a dull glow." You live in the same boredom of bureaucratic doldrums as the characters.They know what the neon light with its piercing buzz is doing on that ceiling with its hairline cracks and what the timeless echo of those slamming doors is all about; they know why those heavy boots with their half-moon metaled heels are clattering down those strangely high, tiled corridors, just as they suspect why the lights at the back have not been lit and why everything looks so tired and dim; and they would bow their heads in humble acknowledgment and with a degree of complicit satisfaction before this magnificently constructed system if only it were not the two of them sitting on these benches polished to a dull glow by the rumps of the hundreds upon hundreds who have occupied them before, obliged to keep their eyes on the aluminum handle of door Number Twenty-Four, so that, having gained admittance, they should be able to make use of the two or three minutes ("It's nothing, just…") to dispel "the shadow of suspicion that has fallen…"
FYI.
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You Should Watch the Seven-Hour Hungarian Film 'Sátántangó' Right Now
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