The Plague at the Karatas Village

This may quite possibly be the single weirdest film I've ever seen.

Imagine Pedro Costa shifting gears and channeling Kiyoshi Kurosawa, Tobe Hooper, Jacques Tati and Franz Kafka, with a bit of KILL LIST thrown in for good measure.

Now imagine the Kazakh version of the Max Fischer players recruiting a few adults and filming a remake, perhaps after having read about Brecht and watched a bit of Greenaway.

I suspect there are some basic aesthetic principles I'm misinterpreting from the ground up, but this is just the damnedest thing, veering between spooky, hysterical, surreal, beguiling, and (presumbly intentionally) borderline incompetent, without ever losing a coherent aesthetic viewpoint.

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