Even at a sphincter torturing three hours, Angelopoulos's extraordinary festival favourite - it just lost out to Underground for the Palme D'Or in Cannes last year - takes an immediate and all-consuming hold on the senses. Essentially, it recounts the odyssey of an American filmmaker known only as A (Keitel), who returns to his Greek hometown after 35 years to pursue a dream of finding three reels of undeveloped film by the Manakis brothers, pioneers of Balkan cinema. The quest leads A through the turbulent peninsula from Greece to Albania, Bulgaria, Romania and, as the mission turns to obsession, finally to the ruin of the under siege Sarajevo.
The film is, however, much more than a mere travelogue. As the journey unfolds it becomes clear that it is a personal act of redemption on A's part for leaving for America in the first place. Glimpses of his family's troubled history are triggered by the pilgrimage and mingle with the present. These vivid memories are woven into the story by way of small detours into flashbacks. The most notable of which is a jump back to his childhood in Romania; an imaginative composite picture of a few years of happy family life interrupted by the progressively heavy handed Securitatae.
Visually the film is quite exceptional. Shot in snowy winter, bombed out Sarajevo comes across as more harrowing and real than in any news report. This is an ambitious work, a mesmerising peek at the circle of pain and tragedy that is the Balkans; a place where history's cruel lessons go unlearned. It may not make for a cosy night's entertainment in the stalls, but otherwise goes down as a major cinematic accomplishment.