People have Fantasia. And since each tradition should discover its personal solution to torture harmless kids, Hungarians have Fehérlófia.
Fortunate them. Launched in 1981, it’s a freaky phatasmagoria about—who the fuck is aware of. A legendary horse-boy or one thing. Level is, it’s elegant, like glimpsing the majesty of hell whereas being spared damnation. For years it has lurked underground, within the type of ripped discs and fuzzy YouTube uploads, sans subtitles. However in the end, ye affected person seekers, a 4K restoration has risen. Could your psyches by no means get better.
Past the journey hellward and its throbbing concord of sound and picture, Fehérlófia isn’t really all that Fantasian. There’s gentle speaking, for one factor; for an additional, heavy spanking. Simply think about if Walt Disney had, at a young age, gotten misplaced in a magic forest, dropped acid, and made hallucinatory like to a white mare.
That’s what the title means, in English: Son of the White Mare. Not saying its creator, Marcell Jankovics, shtupped Sally. He didn’t need to, Hungarian folklore being fecund sufficient by itself. Jankovics does with animation what Disney by no means might. He reaches deep into prehistory and pulls out the pure, forbidden stuff. Watching this, his first feature-length try at adaptive cosmogony, you’re pressured to ponder your personal origins. You’re made to suppose, typically sickeningly, about the way you had been made.
Beginning at first, with conception. What are you whenever you’re born, beast or man? In a spastic neonatal sequence, our younger hero glints between each. Then comes nursing, and the embrace of humanity. The titular son of Son of the White Mare suckles on the teat of the titular horse for 14 years. Years! By the point he’s prepared for highschool, he’s sucked poor mama dry. She actually shrivels up and dies.
The boy doesn’t go to highschool. Now a really giant grownup son, on account of all that cosmic calcium, he’s additionally very robust. So robust he can uproot his hometree and swing it round with nothing however his large arms. Or bury his two brothers in fight. Which he does, with the intention to win their loyalty on his quest to slay dragons and save maidens within the underworld. They name him Treeshaker.
Alongside the way in which, home duties are divvied up, and a flying gnome torments them. When one brother botches supper, the opposite two pull down his pants and whack his cheeks. This occurs twice. It’s not cute.
Nothing is, in Fehérlófia, although it hardly ever pays to parse the particulars of its puerile plot. Free spirits ought to think about skipping the subtitles totally. With out them, it’s pure journey, all funk and really feel. Oneiric and onanistic. With them, it’s like downloading a physics engine on your dreamworlds. Logic needn’t intrude there. Let the thoughts do what—go the place—it needs.