With the temperature well below zero, it's odd to see the rural population of the Hungarian plain standing around awaiting the ultimate in circus attractions (if not the ultimate nightmare for the taxidermist). A giant whale is revealed and, well, many of them have no idea what to make of it. As it remains, it attracts visitors from all around and their arrival starts to cause friction amidst this small community. That's especially problematic for the gentle young "János" (Lars Rudolph) who is used to being the sole source of local entertainment with his performances in the local boozer. What's not really clear to anyone, though, is just why this long deceased leviathan is causing so much trouble. His aunt "Tünde" (Hanna Schygulla) tries to recruit his sceptical uncle "György" (Peter Fitz) to chair a committee to try to restore some sort of equilibrium, but even that doesn't seem destined to calm things down as a mob descend on an hospital where only the epitome of pathetic imagery might just bring them to their senses? Perhaps not for long? It's cleary rich in allegory, this, and I'm guessing the principal point is to suggest that by sewing the seeds of discontent, the Soviets created the perfect scenario for them to ride to the rescue after the war. Maybe a little unfair on the whale, but it seems destined to carry the can for this provocative drama that sees rational behaviour disappear and traditional and family loyalties heavily, and sometimes violently, compromised. The monochrome photography and the penetratingly haunting score add a great deal of richness to this story, and with a really quite emotionally charged, but understated, effort from Rudolph underpinning the complex plot, this makes for an intriguing drama that won't make you feel good, but might make you think a little.