The Tragedy of Man Blu-ray Review

Deaf Crocodile Films

Blu-ray Release: August 12, 2025 (following a June 24 limited edition release)

Video: 1.33:1/1080p/Color

Audio: Hungarian DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Stereo

Subtitles: English

Run Time: 166:20

Director: Marcell Jankovics

Out of the galactic void emerges Lucifer the Devil, the Great Winged Bat, Anubis, the antagonist who adopts many faces and forms as it guides and manipulates the characters of Adam and Eve throughout history, searching for the purpose of human existence – if there is one. (From Deaf Crocodile’s official synopsis)

Among animation’s most admirable traits is the possibility of producing a singular artistic vision with the absolute minimum of outside influences. The problem, then, is one of time. Even with modern digital enhancements, traditional animation consists of either thousands of drawings or delicate frame-by-frame manipulations. Under a studio-backed team of artists, it can take years to complete a feature-length animated film. Off the back of a small, independent group or, in some cases, a single auteur, it can take decades.

The most famous cases of animated features with long production periods and small staffs are Phil Tippett’s Mad God (1990-2021), Paul Grimault’s The King and the Mockingbird (French: Le Roi et l'Oiseau, 1948-1980), Richard Williams’ The Thief and the Cobbler (1964, released incomplete in 2013), Yuri Norstein’s The Overcoat (1981 and still technically unfinished), and Takahide Hori’s Junk Head (2017), which Hori worked on for seven years with the help of only one other person, Atsuko Miyake.

Based on Imre Madách’s 1861 play of the same name, Hungarian animator Marcell Jankovics' The Tragedy of Man (Hungarian: Az ember tragédiája) was initially planned to take a longer than average six-year period to complete. That plan was scuttled when Communism fell in Hungary (as it did across the world) and state funding was cut. Now forced to find a traditional, capitalistic means to raise money, The Tragedy of Man limped to the finish line in 2011, about 23 years since its 1988 production start – even longer if you consider that Jankovics first finished the screenplay in 1983.

Like the play, the film is divided into 15 episodes, each taking place during a different period of history and some designed to evoke the prevalent art styles of those periods – cave paintings, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Greek frescos, Roman sculpture, Middle Age tapestries, newsprint, and so on. Whether initially part of the plan or not, this approach helped Jankovics and his team (which was much smaller than the average Hollywood team) to continue churning out animation without sacrificing consistency, because consistency was never the intention. Jankovics was able to release the pieces as standalone shorts to film festivals, keeping investors interested. He also pulled a tidy sum when his 1974 short, Sisyphus (which had also been Oscar nominated), was used by GMC for their 2008 Super Bowl commercial. 

The project might have remained incomplete, had Jankovics not already been among Hungary’s most universally recognized filmmakers. He wrote and directed the region’s first animated feature, Johnny Corncob (Hungarian: János vitéz) in 1973, based on the epic poem János vitéz by Sándor Petőfi (1845), as well as the conceptually similar Song of the Miraculous Hind (Hungarian: Ének a csodaszarvasról) in 2002, and Son of the White Mare (Hungarian: Fehérlófia, 1981), which is often cited among the greatest Hungarian films of all time, animated or otherwise (it is available on Blu-ray from Arbelos). He also made several successful short films and co-directed the popular television series Hungarian Folk Tales (1980-2012).

Unlike Disney’s anthology epic Fantasia (1940), The Tragedy of Man maintains a theme and general narrative through line, creating a long, generation-spanning tale, instead of a collection of segments. And when I say long, I do mean long. While The Thief and the Cobbler and Mad God took years to finish due to nearly impossible technical aspirations, The Tragedy of Man’s ambition is tied to its nearly impossible scope. Chronicling the totality of mankind’s sins eats a lot of screen time and brings the total runtime to nearly three hours (two hours and forty-six minutes) – the longest of any European animated film ever made. It comes in fourth on the all-time longest list, for the record, behind a total of five movies (though I think counting ​​Revival of Evangelion [1998] as a singular movie is sort of cheating).

Owing to its piecemeal construction, commitment to antiquated styles, and use of three decades-worth of techniques and technology, The Tragedy of Man ends up having a timeless quality. Sometimes, it feels very modern, comparable to something like the history of the world montage from Darren Aronofsky’s Noah (2014), especially the brutal history of modern war/wheel of pop culture. But I also see a lot of similarities to counterculture animation going back to the late ‘60s. Though generally quite somber, Tragedy of Man’s sense of irreverence and its almost anarchic, mixed-media approach draw clear comparisons to the work of Ralph Bakshi, particularly Wizards (1977).

Another group of films I constantly had in mind were Osamu Tezuka’s trilogy of ‘adult’ features: One Thousand and One Arabian Nights (Japanese: Senya Ichiya Monogatari, 1969), Cleopatra (Japanese: Kureopatora, 1970), and Belladonna of Sadness (Japanese: Kanashimi no Belladonna, 1973), the latter of which was technically released in a rushed, unfinished state after funding ran out. This might be a case of my lack of knowledge in the field of European and Slavic feature animation (man who has only seen Boss Baby: “Getting a lot of Boss Baby vibes from this…”), but Tezuka’s films – especially Cleopatra and Belladonna of Sadness – are similarly psychedelic, cartoon versions of world history and, like Wizards, they mix & match animation styles/techniques.

Video

I found evidence that Tragedy of Man made it to PAL DVD, but couldn’t tell you what country the disc was released in (I assume Hungary) or the company that released it. The film made its Hungarian Blu-ray debut in 2013 via Mozinet and was available in HD on various streaming services about a year later. I assume that Deaf Crocodile’s North American Blu-ray debut was created using the same basic transfer, but only because I don’t have any evidence to the contrary. The film is presented in 1080p and its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio. 

By taking so long to complete, Tragedy of Man ended up spanning the traditional ink & paint and computer-assisted coloring eras of animation, meaning that texture and fine details naturally vary from section to section. The transfer skews slightly soft, but doesn’t exhibit signs of DNR. A full 4K rescan (assuming such a thing is even possible) might reveal additional details, like brush strokes and similar artistic ‘errors’ that make hand-crafted animation so unique, as well as a noticeable difference between the completely film-based episodes and the computer-assisted ones. The French Revolution sequence and its awesome magic marker textures are a notable exception. Still, colors are vivid where necessary and I noticed no issues with compression artifacts or print damage. This was one of those increasingly rare cases where I wished I was watching on a larger screen than my normally adequate set.

Audio

Tragedy of Man is presented in its original Hungarian stereo sound and lossless DTS-HD Master Audio. The track is clean and crisp, neatly and accurately reproducing the music and dialogue heavy mix. Sound effects are limited and simplified. László Sáry is the credited composer, but a lot of the music is derived from established classical pieces. This is one area in which the film earns comparisons to Fantasia, though it sounds like Jankovics and Sáry were utilizing older recordings, not re-recording pieces specifically for the film. At its best, the music is a sort of sonic collage, which makes me wish it had been a bit louder on the track. As is, the score is a bit compressed, especially compared to the dialogue. This is likely an effect found in the original mix, not a mastering issue on Deaf Crocodile’s part. 

Extras

• Commentary with Adam Rackoff, James Hancock, and Martin Kessler – Documentary and animation producer Rackoff and audio producer and journalist Kessler are joined by Wrong Reel podcast host Hancock (Rackoff and Kessler have been guests on Wrong Reel multiple times) on this extensive look at the film and its production. I must admit to only sampling portions of the track (the film is just so long and there were other extras to get to), but what I heard was personable, well-researched, and educational in terms of the making of the film, its various technical processes, and the larger histories and philosophies behind it. 

• Time and Transformation: Marcell Jankovics’ The Tragedy of Man (23:19, HD) – Film historian, critic, and video producer Evan Cheste breaks down the film section by section, exploring its theology, historical bases, and various artistic references.

• Discussion with György Ráduly (56:00, HD) – A 2025 Zoom interview with National Film Institute’s Ráduly on the subject of Hungarian animation, director Jankovics, and film preservation, moderated by Deaf Crocodile co-founder Dennis Bartok.

• Discussion with animator Piroska Martsa and graphic designer/background artist István Orosz (83:15, HD) – A second Zoom interview, again moderated by Bartok with translation assistance by Anna Klaniczay. There’s a lot of good information here, but the presentation leaves something to be desired, as we spend a lot of time waiting for Klaniszay to translate everything. Her efforts here are incredible, don’t get me wrong, but, as an audio/visual presentation, subtitled sections of each participant’s interview would’ve served the material better.

• 2025 trailer

The images on this page are taken from the Blu-ray and sized for the page. Larger versions can be viewed by clicking the images. Note that there will be some JPG compression.