B
To me, fewer cinematic experiences are more frustrating (perhaps infuriating) than wasting time on allegedly acclaimed arthouse films whose narratives are based on contrived, pretentious, underdeveloped material. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I’m convinced (and legitimately so) that many moviegoers eschew these releases. Indeed, nothing’s worse than this when it comes to giving the genre an often-dubious reputation in the minds of theater patrons. And that’s why I’m unable to recommend this latest offering from writer-director Ildikó Enyedi. The film tells three stories loosely (and I mean …
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