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Purely Joyful Movie!

Don't listen to the negative reviews

It is an exhilarating, distressing, funny and profound film, with one of the more memorable film scores in years,

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

Let me start by saying that I consider myself to be one of the more (most!)open-minded movie-viewers...Movies are my passion, and I am a big regular at my local cult-movie-rental-place...I also feel the need to add that they often ask ME for advice about movies whenever I get there, and i never seem to be able to leave the place without having had an elaborate discussion or exchange of ideas about what is going on in the cult-movie-area...I love to rent strange stuff, and that is exactly why this movie was recommended by one of the guys at the cult-movie-video-place.He told me he thought I had to see this, and since the cover said something about it being a movie with a Jodorowsky(one of my favorites!)atmosphere, I rented it.The vote I gave here is not really fair, because I did not think it was awful, I just did not know how to rate it otherwise. A question mark would have been more appropriate...This is the first and only film that literally made me sick to my stomach: I actually felt physically ill! Am I the only one whose stomach literally turned? Still I did not want to turn it off, or maybe I just couldn't because I was fascinated in a nasty way...I do not ever wanna see this movie again.Not awful,a 1 as I said.Just not my cup of tea(or wodka for that matter)...

I have yet to read a negative professional review of this movie. I guess I must have missed something. The beginning is intriguing, the three main characters meet late at night in an otherwise empty bar and entertain each other with invented stories. That's the best part. After the three go their separate ways, the film splits into three threads. That's when boredom sets in. Certainly, the thread with the Felliniesque babushkas who make dolls out of chewed bread is at first an eye opening curiosity. Unfortunately, the director beat this one to death, even injecting a wild plot line that leads nowhere in particular. Bottom line: a two-hour plot-thin listlessness. If you suffer from insomnia, view it in bed and you will have a good night sleep.

Film starts with 3 people meeting each other in the bar. OK. They're talking about their imaginary lives, lying all the time, with no reason. Still OK.From time to time, they even make you laugh. Interesting. First 30 minutes you actually enjoy it! But then...things become worse...Nothing's happening...for a long time...and then, when something happen, all you can see are naked old "ladies" touching each other! Not OK. Disgusting! By the way, this part should be the top of the movie, but it's everything except that! Movie has no point,it's boring, and sick! The strangest thing is that here(Belgrade, Serbia) on FEST (film festival), this movie was the most popular according to researches, of course, before people watched it! I even thought(before watching): "Hay, this might be interesting, although it's a Russian movie"! But, God, No!!!!

I saw the film at the Belgrade Film Festival last week, and I'm still working off the trauma. Essentially my view seems to match a number of others - the first half hour was fresh, sharp, deep, entertaining and promising. Well acted too. Natural. My problem, however, is not simply with the fact that the final hour and a half of the film have nothing to do with the likable beginning, nor the fact that I spent most of this time convulsing in agony at sharp, grating industrial sounds and squinting at drunken, toothless, bread-chewing hags. It's rather with the fact that THEY NEVER WARNED ME!!! The festival brochure synopsis described only the (utterly intriguing-sounding) first half hour - a whore, piano tuner and meat seller chat in a bar, pretending to be an advertising agent, genetic engineer, and petty government administration official, respectively - making no mention whatsoever of the never-ending gum-smacking to come. Serves me right for not reading the reviews, you might say - but to my defense, a number of reviews I looked at post-fact um didn't at all stress the immensity and utter unbearableness of the greater part of the film.The first hint should have been the introductory words by the director (a bashful, tousle-haired Russian youth) who stepped in front of the crammed auditorium (the film seems to be doing incredibly well critically, and tickets were sold out well in advance of the screening, though most of the audience seemed as unaware as I was of the pain to come, judging by the plethora of unearthly moans and groans that utterly permeated the theatre during the last half hour, and many exasperated comments on exit) to say the following: 'Well, I... um, thank you very much for coming to see this film, and I just wanted to say... well, it's a very long film... it took me four years to make it, and... it's.. I suggest that you see it and immediately try to forget about it. It is very long. Thank you for coming.' This is what he said. Alarm bells should have been ringing. 'What's he talking about?' I thought in happy confusion. 'This is gonna be fun!' Of course, by the time his strangely apologetic comments started making sense to me, it was far too late to get out. All I could do is writhe in increasing agony until the lights came on again. And in the end I can't say I feel in any way improved by the experience. Yes, I absolutely loved the first half hour. It was intelligent, new, and had a lot to say. And yes, Russia is probably in a bad state. Yes, every society has many hidden faces. Yes, toothless life in barren wastelands is probably unimaginably hard. Yes yes yes. I get all of this. Really I do. But I see no earthly reason why art and meaning should be so agonisingly drawn out, and so painful to bear. If you want to see a film land somewhere between the extremes of glitzy Hollywood plastic fantastic and hours of muddy vodka swigging, try the Korean-Chinese Bin Jip (3-Iron). It's artsy and surprising, but also to-the-point and fun.