The Greek countryside at some point in the 1960s – Thanos (George Dialegmenos) is a young man who works as a goatherd for his rural community, coming from a long line of manual labourers and shepherds, including his deceased father, who died from what appears to be over-exertion under the employment of Vlahopoulos (Tzavalas Karousos), a wealthy landowner who is highly influential in the local community. Thanos’ mother (Elli Xanthaki) is growing weary of poverty and decides that, since her son refuses to do so, she’ll organize him a wife – and she takes aim at the landowner’s daughter, Despina (Olga Karlatos), an innocent but bewitching young woman who is seen as the most eligible bachelorette in the region. However, her father has already promised her hand in marriage to Yankos (Lambros Tsangas), a sycophantic soldier from an equally wealthy family, with the intention being to combine their fortunes, with both families benefitting massively from this marriage. Thanos, as a result of various factors, such as the belief in some curse that is afflicting his community and the pressure of those around him who seek to destroy him, sinks into a kind of insanity and sets off to prove that he should be betrothed to Despina, against the wishes of her family, who refuse to accept the idea of their innocent daughter marrying into dire poverty. What begins as a kidnapping eventually turns into a warped romance, as the two find themselves actually developing feelings for each other, all the while evading the capture of the various individuals who are in pursuit of them, willing to do anything to earn the favour of the upper-class, which both Thanos and Despina are fighting against.

It’s difficult to put a saddle on Thanos and Despina (Greek: Oi voskoi), the daring social odyssey put together by Nikos Papatakis, a sensational, but tragically undervalued director of the European arthouse who never truly received the acclaim that he deserved based on his small but endlessly interesting cinematic output. A film that takes many different forms, from soaring romance to insidious dark comedy, and everything in between, Thanos and Despina is a fascinating foray into the general mentalities surrounding certain factions of society in the years after the Second World War. Bleak and hilarious, the film goes in many different directions, and sometimes requires the viewer to emerge from the catatonic state that Papatakis’ vision forces us into, and necessitates us into taking a more active role in this story, engaging with its brilliantly bizarre pace and multitude of ideas that flow through it with controlled incoherency not even the most deranged surrealists were able to capture. A film that has been tragically overlooked, as a result of both relative obscurity and a plot that is unapproachable from nearly every angle,  Thanos and Despina is a film that would benefit from another look from critics and audiences alike, because beneath the impenetrable subject matter, and strange manner of evoking certain ideas that aren’t normally found in a film like this, there’s a compelling story about class struggle and societal perceptions that is as bitingly satirical as it is beautifully profound – and through a blend of visual prowess, a rare disregard for narrative cohesion and a devil-may-care attitude towards the themes its looks at, this film quietly flourishes into nothing less than a counterculture masterpiece.

Thanos and Despina makes quick work of the fact that it’s not going to be a traditional story in any way – the film begins with an exploding goat, followed by an elderly woman berating her son for his ineptitude in finding a wealthy wife, setting up one of the most eccentric dark comedies of the 1960s, a potent Greek social drama taking the form of an acidic western, thematically and visually. It’s an unrelenting dark comedy that touches on many fascinating themes, including those that are more restricted to the particular socio-cultural context presented in the film, as well as more universal concepts that should be resonant with any viewer with an active interest in this kind of strange, subversive style of storytelling. It’s a film that takes a moment to get acclimated to, but once you are immersed in this abstract world the director is thrusting us into, it becomes a truly mesmerizing experience, a transcendent blend of heartfelt humour and bleak despair, coalescing in a chaotic cinematic ballet of unhinged bestial cravings, informed by a filmmaker whose deranged vision, when combined with the multitude of complex themes that he looks into, creates an unflinchingly daring voyage into the ambigious space between reality and the carnivalesque, where carnal desire and unrestrained emotion replace coherent logic in propelling this bizarre story forward. A thoroughly indescribable work of unyielding genius that doesn’t feel the pressure to make much sense, Thanos and Despina flourishes into something entirely unprecedented in both form and content.

The central governing theme of Thanos and Despina is social conditioning – at the core of the film are two feuding groups, the rural working-class and the bourgeoisie that employs them. Throughout the film, we’re witness to the various machinations of the two groups, where the hysterical superstitions of the traditional workers stand in sharp contrast to the more apparently educated style of the upper-class, both sides standing parallel, but slowly drawing closer until the intersection serves as the catalyst for the central conflict, in which the groups undergo the unprecedented challenge of being in opposition. Poverty and social inequality is very much a concept that the director is intent on exploring in Thanos and Despina, with the spark that propels the film forward being based around the idea of one group rising up against the other, which has impinged upon their own development and prevented them from acquiring the same level of wealth and reverie that they take for granted. Delivered in the form of a surreal dark comedy, rather than an overwrought melodrama, Thanos and Despina is highly original, and its premise is complemented by a strangely upbeat demeanour, in which Papatakis is almost relishing in the chaos he’s evoking. With the film, he joins some of his thematic brethren such as Alejandro Jodorowsky and early Luis Buñuel in inciting insightful discussions into issues of class and society in a manner of complete narrative anarchy – the film is a series of moments that don’t make much sense individually but are woven into a bewilderingly fascinating tapestry of societal unease, offering a compelling glimpse into the human condition in a way that is far more effective than the disorder it thrives on would lead the viewer to believe.

Thanos and Despina is a film that doesn’t only not make much sense, it openly embraces its absurdity. What is most remarkable about the film is that it isn’t attempting to be a devilishly clever satire – based on the premise, its not obvious in any way that the story would go in such unexpected directions. It’s a truly bewildering experience, but one that is done with such precision, it never falls victim to self-indulgence or ridicule in any way, rather operating as a wonderfully sincere voyage into the lives of ordinary people going about their lives, which is unsettled by something as inconsequential as a marriage proposal. Bitingly funny, but also incredibly disturbing, Thanos and Despina is a mesmerizing work that finds director on the precipice of uncovering something truly disturbing, a kind of social disorder that is rarely evoked, even in the most unhinged of satires. What it lacks in coherency it makes up for in ambition – when presented with the chance to make a moving melodrama, the director chooses to deviate entirely, delivering an unpredictable, thrilling comic masterpiece that is brimming with the kind of audacity that comes around only sporadically. Every element of the film is incredibly effective, from the hilariously deranged performances to the stunning cinematography that beautifully conveys the gorgeous pastoral Greek countryside, which sharply contrasts with the surreal storyline taking place on the sun-soaked farmlands that Papatakis exploits with such precision, where he demonstrates remarkable restraint, even when he’s at his most deranged. It’s a poetic satire that takes some time to understand, but once the viewer surrenders themselves to this puzzling dark comedy, it becomes an experience of unparalleled cinematic artistry.