The film is shown in a 1.66:1 aspect ratio, and its subtitles are white on black for the German and Hungarian languages spoken. As for the DVD features, they are solid. The first is s brief 12 minute short film Tarr made in 1978, called Hotel Magnezit which depicts an aging alcoholic who is persecuted by unknown others for alleged wrongdoings. It is not in good shape, visually, and the acting is very poor, to say the least. It's at best, a misfire. Then there is a near 50 minute long press conference at the Berlinale Film Festival, wherein Tarr, his three main actors, and his technical collaborators, answer question from an international group of reporters. While there are a few moments of insight, the stark contrast between the depths of the film and the insipidities of the assorted reporters makes for many awkward moments, where the viewer feels sorry for the questioner and senses the artists' frustrations. There is also the theatrical trailer, and a small booklet with a very poorly written and teeth-gnashingly trite essay, called Brute Existence: The Turin Horse, on the film by American film critic J. Hoberman. Finally there is an audio commentary by another notoriously bad American film critic, Jonathan Rosenbaum, that is one of the worst that you will ever encounter. It truly does seem that the Golden Age of DVD commentaries is at an end. Aside from the fact that the commentary has silent gaps, it also only runs less than half the length of the film because, as Rosenbaum says early on, he thinks the film needs no commentary. So, then why agree to do the damned thing? Let someone with more enthusiasm take over. As for the actual commentary? It's rather pathetic, for Rosenbaum adds almost nothing original, instead mostly reading others' critical opinions on the film, and then even relying on biographical and career information on Tarr from, of all places, the always unreliable Wikipedia. It's truly an astonishing train wreck of a commentary- one which Rosenbaum calls his first solo commentary, and hopefully, for the cineastes out there, what will be his last commentary. Aside from the absolute lack of anything meaningful to say on the film, Rosenbaum's nasal, screechy voice is a turn-off, but even more so is his constant pimping of his own career, and the fact that he is going to be teaching, in 2013 at a new film school Tarr is opening in Croatia. About the only positives that one can say of Rosenbaum's nearly 70 minutes of speaking is that he makes two salient points that few other critics have noticed: 1) that despite being labeled anti-Hollywood, Tarr's films are often shot on sets, and Rosenbaum claims this film was also shot on a soundstage. 2) He acknowledges that Tarr's camera is always doing something interesting to offset the seeming repetition of the activities the characters engage in, and this counterpoint between action and depiction helps craft a grand narrative from what seems to be little material. Other than these two points, Rosenbaum's relentless need to posit himself as an insider into indy film circles, and his utter lack of insight into the film at hand, make listening to the commentary a chore.

While the film was much honored at a number of the international film festivals it was shown at, it did not make the list for best Foreign Picture Oscars in America (surprise, surprise). Yet, despite this snub, The turin Horse is yet another great film in Tarr's canon, at least equal to Damnation and Satantango, clearly superior to The Man From London, even if it likely falls a bit shy of Tarr's greatest film, Werckmeister Harmonies. It is a brutally great work of realism in an oddly closed universe consisting of one windy plain (see the scene where the pair try to leave their home, only to wind up right back in it). Near the end of the film, the unnamed daughter asks of her father, or perhaps rhetorically (it does not matter),What is all this darkness?

Let me answer: it is art, child. Art.

Bela Tarr claims this will be his last film, and damn does it have finality written all over it. I guess there's few ways to be more final than to devote a work to the end of humanity. And I've never seen a film that struck me as more authentically apocalyptic than this one. It is immediately strange to say then, that one of the things that most impressed me about this juggernaut is its ultra-sly humor. Tarr really is a nihilist and a misanthrope, at least philosophically. The fall of our silly little species really is funny to him, in the darkest way possible, and in half audible beats he makes it funny for us too. All of the other species have sensed the death of the world and have, reasonably, stopped trying to survive. Only homosapiens, represented by a half-functioning horse-carriage driver and his daughter, are clueless enough to continue their wretched routine in the face of a blatant apocalypse. We, along with Tarr, laugh at, pity, and admire the duo for this all at the same time. This is why I call Tarr a misanthrope in philosophy only. In practice, he has love for his fools, even as he leads them towards annihilation. The film includes many references to cinematic finality as well. Fading lanterns, windows that show a world that is becoming not, opaque, all suggest an abandoned cinema. The empty shell of a cinematic artist imagining his own abandoned corpse.

What makes Béla Tarr the unrivaled master of dread is his oneness. His characters sulk across squalid plains, plagued by endless winds, shot in gloomy black-and-white with extremely few but extremely graceful takes. With his final film, The Turin Horse, his focus is on the pointless human routine, depicted in an alternate past where the apocalypse approaches. The depiction of the inevitable end is minimalistic, showcasing no fancy Emmerich-tier special effects as the world simply surrenders to the void. The effect is a little more long-lasting than, say, the roller-coaster of a doomsday promised by 2012.

The film supposedly takes place after an event in 1889 where Friedrich Nietzsche, according to some, descended to madness after having witnessed the abuse of a disobedient horse on the streets of Turin. Somehow, this was the cruelty that pushed him over the edge, leading him to only speak four more words for the rest of his life: "Mutter, ich bin dumm"

When Hungarian novelist László Krasznahorkai, a frequent collaborator of Tarr, first heard the tale during the making of Sátántangó, he simply mused "So what happened to the horse?"

Know that this is a purposely slow and repetitive film, as is relevant for its message (not the most fun or optimistic pick for a movie night either),but this does not mean it is without value. As mentioned, it is outstandingly well-photographed (by Fred Kelemen) and the sense of dread is tangible, not to mention constant, thanks in no small part to its lighting and imposing sound design.

In the film, the world is facing destruction as some sort of perpetual storm is moving through the land. Its wind is heard constantly in the distance by the Stableman and his daughter (János Derszi and Erika Bók, both of Sátántangó); when it eventually stops, the silence is deafening and we somehow realize what must come next. Mihály Víg's depressing music isn't bad either, although perhaps overused.

The movie relies almost solely on the elements I mentioned above. Its dialogue is virtually non-existent and there isn't much to the characters - even though we feel their need to persist, fruitless though it is, and there is never the sense that they are simply actors. As we watch, we have very much entered an alternate past, one that is slowly putting an end to man and his daily existence. Some will get bored; others will see the purpose of the slowness, and despair. Or, as it might turn out, worry a bit less.

It is said that The Turin Horse is Tarr's final movie because he feels he has done what he can to change the world with his art, even stating that he no longer holds any such faith in his creations. He had come to realize that problems are too complicated for that and The Turin Horse is simply a reminder that the only certainty is doom (he has denied that this mindset is necessarily WHY he no longer wants to make movies).

Maybe this is a good reading of The Turin Horse. It is a movie that invites endless pondering, mainly for those who sit through it. I will say this: my guess is that those who do sit through it will find themselves enveloped by its distinctly bleak universe (its cinematography, sound design, and overwhelming atmosphere will make up for its repetitive scenes, purposeful and poignant as they may be) and discover a strange comfort in it.