The title refers to the rings in Dante's, "Inferno."
A poor, emaciated, threadbare young man struggles through a winter blizzard to the home of his recently deceased father and proceeds to arrange for his funeral. This film is almost silent: even music is withheld until the final few moments.
The cinematography is most unusual, with disorienting closeups of objects which only reveal themselves after some time.
Much of the film details the overwhelming grief of the man, the squalor of his father's filthy room, and the coldness of the system with which he struggles.
There is a power in this film which is impossible to verbalize: the simple act of cleaning the corpse becomes something not unlike a sacrament.
Though we never get to know the dead man, nor anything about his son, the film manages to convey a sense of the worth of a human life as powerfully as any other film I've seen.
I didn't particularly enjoy "The Russian Ark," the latest Sokurov film, but after this one I'll definitely be pursuing his other works: he's a genius and original visionary on the order of Tarkovsky.
This is a film which demands a lot of the viewer, showing that "art" films are not the passive experience which Hollywood fare is.
"Hunger," "Vidas Secas," "A Taste of Cherry," are similar in that they unflinchingly depict men under tremendous stress but moreso because of the minimalist style.
Highest of recommendations. In fact, like the other three films I mentioned, it is a crucial film experience.
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