The Worst Film Ever

There are moments in this movie where the great movie it could've been peek out... They're fleeting, here, but they're worth savoring, and they happen often enough to make it worth your while.

The film may be flawed, but its message is not.

Very good movie overall, highly recommended. Most of the negative reviews don't have any merit and are all pollitically based. Give this movie a chance at least, and it might give you a different perspective.

Gyula Nemes' Hungarian film Egyetleneim (My One and Onlies) is less about one young man's romantic quest for the right woman, than a hyper-caffeinated love poem to the city of Budapest – its trolleys, clubs, fountains, and festivals. And at times, it's more like being trapped in an out-of-control tilt-a-wheel -- with its jerky hand-held camera, fast motion POV shots, and three-frame jump cuts, you find yourself quite literally having to look away from the screen. (I suspect these sequences will be much easier to consume on a 21 inch TV monitor once the film is released on DVD.) But Nemes is clearly more interested in technical virtuosity than the subtleties of character development. After pummeling his audience with seizure-inducing flash-frame montage for the bulk of his picture, he wraps up the narrative with an impressive, single long take that tracks with actor Krisztián Kovács from a Yellow-line Metro Station, into a subway car, out of that car several stops later, then up the stairs, and into a waiting taxi – all in one shot. The problem is that instead of emulating, say, Robert Altman's eight minute opening shot in The Player which probes the depth of all the central characters in his film, Nemes' work suffers from all the pitfalls of Brian DePalma's five minute-long Steadicam shot at the beginning of Bonfire of the Vanities: You find yourself thinking more about technique instead of identifying with the main character's dilemma. Ultimately, the technical wizardry pulls us out of the story at the very moments we need to most empathize with Kovács.That's not to say there's nothing to like about Egyetleneim. Balázs Dobóczy's cinematography bathes the City Tour highlights – like Hero's Square, Andrassy Boulevard, and the Ocktagon – with a sumptuous daylight. And there's a short sequence in one of Hungary's many sunflower fields that is as visually arresting as anything shot by Allen Daviau or Gordon Willis. Even the blue wash Dobóczy gives to the houseboat sequences seems emotionally resonant.And for the most part, the performances are strong, too – especially Orsolya Tóth whose long, graceful neck clearly has a future in international cinema.As for Nemes, he seems at his playful best when improvising on the Budapest street – surprising passersby with a survey full of sexual innuendo, smuggling a restaurant umbrella onto a tram, or tailing Tóth through the crowd at the Sziget; a talent he's clearly honed during his previous documentary work.Still, to grow as a director, Nemes needs to care more about his characters than his camera-work and editing. An awkwardly staged "rape" scene near the end of the film feels both perfunctory and unresolved.But the list of visually talented filmmakers in search of narrative depth – directors like Adrian Lyne and Tony Scott instantly leap to mind – confirms that many before him have indeed made this journey successfully.We can only hope that Egyetleneim will not be Nemes' one and only fictional film.***The reviewer, Jonathan Slade, is Assistant Professor of Communication at McDaniel College in Westminster, Maryland, USA, where he coordinates the Film & Video Studies Program. During the Fall 2006 semester, Slade is the visiting professor at the college's sister campus in Budapest, Hungary.