It's a shame that the Cairo International Film Festival doesn't give out an award for Most Annoying Film—“So Much for Justice!” would have undoubtedly taken it home, crushing any competition that stood in its way. This Hungarian production is the cinematic equivalent of being repeatedly poked in the head with a sharp stick by a gang of jabbering idiots. Viewers not intimately familiar with Hungary's history will find what little plot the film has to be stubbornly incomprehensible. However, this film is such a punishing mess, it's hard to believe it capable of finding any kind of audience, even in its homeland (it didn't—”So Much for Justice!” was critically and commercially panned nationwide). The film's problems are in no way limited to its insiders-only plot: pacing, dialogue, oafish humor, cinematography—all seemingly designed with the intention of creating the most torturous viewing experience imaginable, all the more so because of how inexplicably and frustratingly cheerful everyone on screen seems to be, even when they're being, literally, stabbed in the back. Out of an audience of 16 including this reviewer, the final results stood at 12 walkouts and three sleeping senior citizens. Set in the 15th century, the film supposedly tells the story of the young boy who would become the last king of Hungary before the nation was invaded by Turks. Corruption is rife throughout the monarchy, and there seems to be an endless cast of power-hungry tricksters all vying for the throne. Deals are made to be dishonored, allegiances to be broken, and marriage is an act of political insurance, rather than love. In the midst of it all, two potentially supernatural beings, similar to the fairies in Shakespeare's “A Midsummer Night's Dream,” enjoy the endless confusion, adding an element of chaos whenever they can. Of course, this synopsis could be completely inaccurate, but it's the most that could be gathered from the muddled storytelling and the filmmakers' happy-go-lucky approach to it. The camera roams around aimlessly, actors walk into frame and move awkwardly along a clearly choreographed path, and there's almost always someone mucking around with a violin or mouth-harp in the background. Or, worse yet, foreground. Worst of all, and the clincher for that fictional award mentioned earlier, is the way everyone onscreen spends most of the time looking straight into the camera. It's not a narrative device-- that would probably be too productive for the filmmaker's questionable tastes. Instead, the actors in “So Much for Justice!” repeatedly turn to the camera in the middle of their performance, just to smile, or stare awkwardly. Characters in conversation with each other will shift their attention mid-sentence to the camera while continuing to deliver their lines. Some will appear just to casually drape their arm around another actor's shoulders, and stare at you while he delivers his lines. Others walk into frame, blocking everything else with a silly, silent grin at the audience. More frequently though, characters will pause and smirk at each other as if sharing a private joke, before turning to glare at the audience like the outsiders which they have so effectively been made to be. None of the actors are worth mentioning, the credits refer to a writer but that's hard to believe, and the camera might as well have been strapped to the back of a mule. The dialogue is a joke, consisting of supposedly local expressions, non-sequiturs, and the odd, dry recital of a sampling of Byrds lyrics (“Turn! Turn! Turn!” if you must know). With the frequent references to a baffling “Magyars and Poles” joke, and the arrival of the Turks being maybe (maaaybe) some kind of statement on immigration, it's tempting to believe director Miklós Jancsó may be attempting a political commentary. It's hard to care, though, when your concentration is broken for the millionth time by the group of Hungarians staring you down.
