Béla Tarr, the visionary Hungarian filmmaker whose bleak, mesmerizing movies transformed art house cinema and inspired generations of directors, has died at the age of 70. His death was announced on Tuesday morning, January 6, 2026, by Hungary’s national news agency MTI, relaying a statement from filmmaker Bence Fliegauf on behalf of Tarr’s family. The European Film Academy confirmed the news later that day, stating Tarr passed away “after a long and serious illness.” Tarr’s passing marks the end of an era for those who cherished his uncompromising cinematic vision and radical storytelling style.
Born in 1955 in the southern Hungarian city of Pécs, Béla Tarr’s early years were shaped by the realities of Communist rule. He began making films as a teenager, picking up a camera given to him by his father at age 16, even while juggling jobs in a shipyard and as a receptionist, according to The New York Times. His passion for cinema led him to Hungary’s renowned Balázs Béla Stúdió, a haven for experimental filmmakers, where he made his feature debut, Family Nest, in 1977. The film, a raw domestic drama, won the Grand Prix at the Mannheim Film Festival, setting Tarr on a path toward international recognition.
After graduating from the Academy of Theatre and Film in Budapest in 1982, Tarr launched Társulás Filmstúdió. But the studio’s life was cut short in 1985, shuttered for political reasons—a harbinger of the challenges Tarr would face as a fiercely independent artist in a shifting political landscape.
Tarr’s breakthrough came with Damnation (1988), co-written with László Krasznahorkai, who would later win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2025. The film, Hungary’s first independent feature, premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival and won the Best Young Film Award at the European Film Awards. This collaboration with Krasznahorkai would prove pivotal, with the pair working together on several projects, most notably the monumental Sátántangó (1994).
It’s hard to overstate the impact of Sátántangó. Spanning a staggering seven hours and thirty minutes, the film is a slow-cinema epic chronicling the collapse of communism in a Hungarian village. Critics and cinephiles alike have hailed it as a masterpiece; Manohla Dargis of The New York Times called it “his masterpiece,” noting Tarr’s uncanny ability to “find beauty in every miserable and mundane corner.” The film’s languid pacing, long single-take shots, and stark black-and-white visuals became Tarr’s trademarks, influencing filmmakers from Gus Van Sant to Jim Jarmusch. In 2019, a 4K restoration of Sátántangó screened at the Berlin Film Festival, a testament to its enduring legacy.
“I’m just a big fucking maniac who believes in people,” Tarr told IndieWire in 2019, reflecting on his approach to filmmaking. “I was just an ugly, poor filmmaker. I still am. I don’t have power. I don’t have anything—just a fucking camera.” This self-effacing candor belied the profound influence Tarr wielded in the world of cinema.
Throughout his career, Tarr directed nine features, with each one pushing the boundaries of cinematic form. Werckmeister Harmonies (2000), another collaboration with Krasznahorkai, explored the existential despair of rural Hungary. The Man from London (2007) earned him a Palme d’Or nomination at Cannes, while his final feature, The Turin Horse (2011), won the Grand Jury Prize at the Berlin International Film Festival. At the Berlin ceremony, Tarr surprised the audience by announcing his retirement from feature filmmaking. “We had made everything we wanted,” he told The Guardian in 2024. “The work is done and you can take it or leave it.”
But Tarr’s creative journey didn’t end there. He devoted his later years to nurturing new generations of filmmakers. After relocating from Hungary to Sarajevo, he founded the international film school film.factory in 2012, bringing together luminaries like Gus Van Sant, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Carlos Reygadas, Tilda Swinton, and Juliette Binoche as visiting teachers. Although the school shut down in 2016, Tarr continued to teach at academies across Hungary, Germany, and France, inspiring students with his radical approach to cinema.
Political engagement was always close to Tarr’s heart. He was an outspoken critic of nationalism and right-wing populism, publicly condemning Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, Marine Le Pen, and Donald Trump. In 2023, he joined dozens of filmmakers in signing an open letter advocating for a ceasefire in Gaza and the protection of civilians, according to The Hollywood Reporter. The European Film Academy described him as “an outstanding director and a personality with a strong political voice, who is not only deeply respected by his colleagues but also celebrated by audiences worldwide.”
For much of his career, Tarr worked alongside his partner, Agnes Hranitzky, who edited his films. Their creative partnership, which began in 1978, was central to the distinctive rhythm and aesthetic of his movies. Tarr’s stepdaughter, Reka Gaborjani, confirmed his passing, noting he died after a series of “long and serious” illnesses.
Colleagues and collaborators have paid tribute to Tarr’s uncompromising spirit. Krasznahorkai, in a statement to The New York Times, called him “one of the greatest artists of our time. Unstoppable, brutal, unbreakable.” He added, “When art loses such a radical creator, for a while it seems that everything will be terribly boring. Who will be the next rebel here? Who will come forward? Who will kick everything apart?”
Despite never achieving commercial success, Tarr’s films left a profound mark on the art house circuit and on the filmmakers who followed in his wake. His radical formal style—prioritizing the direct experience of time, space, and atmosphere over conventional narrative—helped define the slow cinema movement. As A.O. Scott once wrote in The New York Times, Tarr was “a medieval stone carver who happened to get his hands on a camera.”
In 2023, the European Film Academy honored Tarr with its Honorary Award, recognizing his immense contributions to cinema. His influence can be seen in the works of directors around the globe, and his films continue to captivate new audiences, challenging them to see the world with fresh eyes.
As the film community mourns his loss, Béla Tarr’s legacy endures—in every lingering shot, every bleak landscape, and every uncompromising vision that dares to ask: What if we simply watched, and waited, and felt the weight of time?
