Two of the major cornerstones of cinema are romance and death, and very often filmmakers blend the two themes in the pursuit of making relatable statements on both of these inevitable, highly-resonant concepts. However, the concept of love has never been as inextricably honest in its relationship to our eventual demise than in  Ildikó Enyedi’s charming but profoundly meaningful drama, On Body and Soul (Hungarian: Testről és lélekről). In this film, neither theme is overt or obvious, but they both linger heavily in the lives of the two protagonists, who are pursuing some deeper meaning towards their lives, in perpetual search for some understanding of the events that shape us and define us as individuals. On Body and Soul is a film that has many meanings and interpretations, but in its most straightforward description, it is a brutally honest chronicle about two ordinary individuals, bound by a surreal connection that draws them closer together while simultaneously driving them apart. On Body and Soul is a film about the human condition, and Enyedi managed to convey the most intricate nuances of humanity, in a film that is as poetic and delicate as the work of James Joyce, as meaningful and layered as the novels of Virginia Woolf and as paranoid and bleak as the mind of Franz Kafka.

On Body and Soul is set in a Hungarian slaughterhouse. Endre (Géza Morcsányi) is a middle-aged man who works as the Financial Officer of the company. He soon encounters the most recent employee, the mysterious and extremely unpopular Mária (Alexandra Borbély), who seems to be entirely detached from reality, and fails to make any meaningful connections with anyone, creating the illusion that she is not entirely normal. When a minor scandal occurs at the slaughterhouse, a psychologist (Réka Tenki) is brought in to psychoanalyze the employees and determine the mental state of everyone in the hopes of finding the culprit. What is found, however, is that Endre and Mária, who are virtually strangers, have been sharing a common dream. In their shared dream, they are a pair of deer in a snowy forest, searching for food and attempting to survive the harsh conditions around them. What was initially thought to be an elaborate ruse on the part of the duo turns out to be a cosmic coincidence, and forces them to become a part of each other’s lives as they determine why they have been connected by such an abstract coincidence. They become closer as people, and learn about each other and eventually about themselves, finding the solace they had been searching for all along, as they dare to fall in love. However, their friendship and burgeoning romance are not quite as typical as one would expect, and their respective anxieties, fears, and obsessions get in their way and threaten to pull them apart once again.

There is something about On Body and Soul that was absurdly brilliant – it really does not have much of a story, but yet it feels so deeply poignant and layered on so many levels, filled with meaningful commentary on humanity and the relationships that can occur from the most unexpected situations. Enyedi made something truly extraordinary here, and the success of this film relied on the fact that she attempted to construct something that was, at its very core, simply a very human love story, a film about two individuals, both of which are flawed (Endre has a paralyzed arm, Mária suffers from a form of what appears to be autism), who are drawn to each other through the most surreal circumstances, and start to learn about themselves through interacting with the other person. There is something about this brutal honesty that strikes the audience as being particularly wonderful, because Enyedi does not attempt to conceal anything or try to be aloof in the story she was conveying, but she also does not veer off into the realm of the overly-fantastical and implausibly unrealistic, always keeping this narrative well-grounded in reality, with the tranquil and surreal dream sequences being incongruous with the harsh and often disturbing stark nature of reality, but in a way that is complementary rather than contradictory. The juxtaposition between the lucid and the dream-like was absolutely astonishing and defines On Body and Soul as a major work of magical realism if one would categorize it as such.

As this is a film concerned with exploring the human psyche and the relationship between individuals, On Body and Soul is inherently driven by the performances, particularly those of the two protagonists. Géza Morcsányi, who has led a prolific and acclaimed career as a stage actor over the past two decades, given an indelible performance as the middle-aged man who cannot detach himself from the overwhelming loneliness he feels. His life is characterized by meaningless sexual encounters and the same dull routine day after day, and he begins to grow weary, and it is only the arrival of the mysterious and elusive Mária that helps Endre rise out of his despair and actually experience something meaningful. Morcsányi is astonishing in this film, and his performance as Endre is nothing short of incredible. He manages such conviction and subtlety in conveying the inner turmoil of this character, a man doomed to a fate of meaningless minutiae and taut routine, simply because that is the easiest passage of existence for someone like him, conventional and ordinary. Morcsányi’s expressiveness and the nuances he brings to the character are remarkable, and he constructs a character that is beyond conventional, but also capable of great philosophical introspection. It is a nuanced and complex portrayal of a man who is undergoing his own minor existential crisis, and while he does relish in the opportunity to change his life and his perspective, he is also fearful that he is making some mistake. It is certainly one of the most fascinating performances of the year, and it proves to be truly extraordinary the extent to which Morcsányi gives a moving and delicate and undeniably truthful performance.

Sharing the screen with Morcsányi for most of the film is Alexandra Borbély, who is the perfect juxtaposition to Morcsányi’s Endre, being the young and beautiful woman who is physically flawless, but mentally flawed. She suffers from a form of autism, which causes her to avoid any meaningful human relationship, and the very thought of contact between her and another person repulses her to the point of inefficiency. However, through her budding relationship with Endre, Mária grows as a person and starts to develop interpersonal skills that help her become more comfortable with her environment and those around her. As impressive as Morcsányi was, On Body and Soul is a film that is defined by Borbély’s astounding performance – every movement, gesture, and expression forms a carefully-constructed mosaic of a damaged, complex individual who also longs for the feeling of belonging, but does not possess the skills or the courage to attempt to change herself in order to achieve that desire. Unfortunately, many mainstream representations of autism position these individuals as bundles of tics and quirks that make them obtuse, unlikable and too strange to be considered normal. Enyedi distances herself from these problematic representations and rather develops Mária as a nuanced and delicate character, someone who is tragically flawed but also admirably courageous. Her moments of self-reflection and introspection and the journey she undergoes in order to assimilate into society is truly extraordinary. It also helps that Morcsányi and Borbély had remarkable chemistry, and they bring out the best in each other throughout this film.

On Body and Soul ends with a disclaimer that quite openly states that animals were harmed in the production of this film, albeit only through filming the regular routine of a slaughterhouse. I was somewhat hesitant to approach this film because scenes of realistic animal brutality are not particularly pleasant (one just needs to consider the definitive moment of Ted Kotcheff’s Wake in Fright, where a real kangaroo cull was filmed and added to the film to understand). However, this kind of explicit brutality actually supports the poetic nature of this film – On Body and Soul combines the visceral and scatological corporeality of life (“body”) with the delicate, transcendent perfection of dreams (“soul”), and the effectiveness of explicitly displaying the slaughter of animals only served to emphasize the disassociation between the realm of reality and the realm of fantasy, two concepts that are continuously interplaying and interacting within this film. Enyedi created something shocking but brilliant, and these scenes do not contradict the beautiful tone of the film, but rather emphasize it and show the frail beauties than lurk in the most unexpected situations.

I was truly enamored with On Body and Soul. It is a complex and terrific film that shocks the audience, but in a way that is representative of the tone of the film. It conveys a beautifully human story, a film about the relationships we have with other individuals, as well as the relationship we have with ourselves. Through the eyes of our conventional but troubled protagonists, we see a world that is, on the surface, bleak and unforgiving, but when one retreats within the soul, the tranquility that comes with meaningful self-introspection is magnificent. On Body and Soul is beautifully simple film, one that approaches its philosophical core with honesty and lacks all sense of arrogance or entitlement, and rather just approaches the human condition in a simple, beautiful way. On Body and Soul is a gorgeous film, both in terms of aesthetic and story, and it is a mesmerizing, unforgettable statement on existence, the likes of which are rarely ever so effective.