Johanna

People walked out of the theatre..fair enough. It's an Art film and an extremely audacious one to boot. But in my humble opinion, it's not worth throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

If you can get past the fact that 1) it's an opera, 2) it's sung (very beautifully) in Hungarian, and 3)there's naked old men singing about liver failure..you might actually enjoy this film. If not then perhaps you might find that you can appreciate it as a one off. Whether that is a good or a bad thing, I suppose is up to the viewer.

The lead actress Orsi Toth is absolutely stunning in this film. Her performance was uncomfortable, emotive, and surprising. I look forward to seeing her in future films.

This does fall into the art film category, and of course art films are not all good and taste varies. I tend to put art films towards the right part of the spectrum, meaning the "good" part so to speak. This one however I must place at the left extreme of the spectrum along with trash such as what you might expect from a film titled something like "Jesse James Meets Terry and the Pirates" (just made that up). The lines are all sung (kind of) like in lulls in between arias of an opera, only there are no arias. Just the same sound over and over and over. There is a certain arty ugliness to this hospital, so ugly that I thought the film would redeem itself if I sit there long enough and not give up. What is the story like? Since my review is directed at those who have not seen it yet, I will just be metaphoric. Think of being swallowed by a huge pig. You get bitten up in the mouth, gulped down the esophagus, churned around in the stomach, reduced to mash in the intestines, and whatever is left gets dumped out his rear end. Halfway into this you are convinced that there is some good to all this ugliness, though we know the world for some of us (many of us?) is a bad place and we wind up in the burn pile. That's the story, and I don't think my metaphor has spoiled anything. If after reading the other reviews you must see it, then I suggest you spend as little as possible of your hard-earned money and watch for say 10 minutes or so. If you like it by then, enjoy the rest, but if not --- it won't get better. The one thing I got out of it all, particularly after reading its history and the other reviews, is the realization more than ever before that there are those who laud something as art for having been placed into the art category. I don't know if my review will do anyone any good. Very few who read the review titled awful considered that review helpful, so I wrote a longer review. I like to write helpful reviews. If you do see it and find it awful, you might give us nay-sayers a thumbs up to give us credibility, which may prompt others to watch something else instead. Having read the reviews for this film, I had expectation of a worthwhile art film, but found in my honest opinion a monstrosity, all 82 minutes of it. Oh, and I almost forgot. Sex is suggested more than actual. What little nudity there is is rather ugly. It is a hospital after all.

A remarkable visual feast. A fabulous greenish/yellow color tinting shades the contours of the cast throughout the film, compounded by severe contrasts of moving bright flashlight pools in pitch darkness. A very strange "out-of-body sensation" grabs hold of you until suddenly the talking voices change into operatic ones. The effect was mesmerizing to say the least. After Italian, Hungarian is phonetically the most effective language for opera. Not as harsh as German, but more robust than Italian. A very different sensation. Why aren't there more operas in Hungarian? (Shades of Bartok's "BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE"). The setting of the old asylum in Budapest keeps reminding one of the somber feel of the Danish hospital in Lars von Trier's "THE KINGDOM", with a dash of the picturesqueness of Lubyanka Prison. A modern operetta for the soul... Let your mind run free during this one. And simply ignore all other advice to the contrary. This wonderful gem is a unique and liberating experience...

It seems the football match some of the elderly patients watch on television whilst based at the Hungarian hospital within which 2005 feature Johanna is set, was in fact real. They observe Romanian striker Marius Niculae's goal in the fifth minute, FIFA.com have it credited after four; the match was against the watching Hungarians and ended two to nothing in favour of the Romanians in their capital city of Bucharest, thus dating that particular scene on the second day of 2001's June. It's a wacky way to begin a written response to a film, but just where DO you start with Kornél Mundruczó's adventurous; dizzying; somewhat nauseating but eye opening musical Johanna? Littered with style; substance (I think); off-the-wall content and sheer madness, there will be few who'll have seen this Cannes nominated 2005 piece and even fewer who'll have forgotten it after having seen it. Quite how the pitch for the film went, I'll never know but it is a mostly unforgettable; avant-gard fuelled trip into a barren and bleak world of all things medical and allegorical.

The titular Johanna is played by young Hungarian actress Orsolya Tóth, her involvement in a road accident giving her a severe bout of amnesia whilst being treated at a local hospital; her newfound existence following this accident a severely disjointed and disconnected period of living as she occupies a place seemingly cut off from the rest of the real world. Is she alive? Is she dead? Is anyone? Did she transfer to Hell after death? Is it Heaven? Purgatory? Perhaps she died and was reincarnated as the Second Coming, what with all her newfound powers. Is it all a dream? Director Mundruczó has fun toying with us; disorientating the audience with as many low budgeted tricks as he can and providing us with a plethora of scenes and sequences designed to instill confusion and, on occasion, just a sickly sensation.

Mundruczó shoots the locale of the hospital as if it were underground, with most of the scenes seemingly having been shot in pitch black following the taping of a battery powered torch to the top of the camera's lens and switched on for filming. The result is an odd sense of being in a place no one knows of, a place no one sees unless summoned to and with a real air of bleakness and hopelessness dominating the air. My guess is most of the film's budget is used in the opening sequence, a slow track following a bus crash and explosion in a public Hungarian street as emergency services arrive setting exactly the sort of tone for what the film isn't in any shape or form about. The eerie, pained sense or atmosphere of agony Mundruczó has his film instilled with makes itself known fairly early on, the credits coming up over a static shot of a medical kit as we hear all those bleeps and noises associated with electronic medical machinery. Off screen, dozens off people lie injured but our admittance as to being able to see their aid is denied despite a certain desperate sense of longing to see some kind of help in operation.

The survivors are taken to a nearby hospital, a doctor by way of a long take breezes down a dimly lit corridor in which the lighting frequently cuts out, perhaps disguising the film's edits. Each victim he encounters is gradually more injured, until he arrives at the final patient whom is obviously the worst for wear out the bunch; the sequence effectively establishing a sense of, by way of a doctor's moving physicality, progression onto things that are more disfigured and nasty as we progress thus echoing how the film itself branches out. The moment the rug is pulled out from under us, as we attempt to identify who's who and where the film might lead us having started out with a road crash aftermath before venturing to a place of aid for recovery, is the moment everyone in the hospital gets up out of their ward beds having finished the "drill" and breaking into song. The rug is pulled; we are flat on our backs and we don't really get back up again until after the film has finished. Johanna seemingly stays injured, though; the tests they administer to her and the time she spends there resulting in nothing bar a new existence as a nurse to go along with a sensational gift of being able to cure elderly men of their illnesses by having sexual intercourse with them.

It's here most people will point out the film's predominant ingredients are sex and death. Welsh born filmmaker Peter Greenaway is quoted on the IMDb to have said: "There are basically only two subject matters in all Western culture: sex and death. We do have some ability to manipulate sex nowadays. We have no ability, and never will have, to manipulate death." Johanna, whilst a Hungarian film which you'd be within your right to classify as of an Eastern ilk, toys with the prospect of using sex as a means of doing exactly that and manipulating death so as to essentially avoid it. For how long, the film is unspecific; if people are in fine health an hour after the opening bus crash then it might be for eternity. A love plot enters proceedings towards the end, Johanna remaining firm and sleeping with as many ill patients as possible so as to cure them but refusing to bow to a resident doctor's approaches. Mundruczó sees the humour in the whole thing; the line "Let's all rush to the Urology department" sung therein garnering raised eyebrows but smirks. The omnipresent juxtaposition of the characters' orchestral singing with the morgue-like locale of the hospital is probably a little too effective at times, with the overall result a just about watchable musical about enough to make the 86 minute runtime seem longer than it is, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Sat through about what seemed like 20 minutes of this attempt at art, though it may have been in fact only 8-12 minutes.

I don't know what sort of cameras they shot this with, but as presented at the 2005 Saint Louis Internation Film Festival, the picture had such visible digital compression artifacts that I wished it had been shot with antique analog video camera instead of whatever they used. Then at least the blown-out whites would have had some interesting flange and flare.

Sound, similarly, was digitally compromised, or at least had unintended sounds bumping in. The singers were competent, but the music itself was over-composed.

I'm not writing a review. More of a warning: You're going to have to love the concept, I think, to sit through this production.

I suggest to the authors that they load up a web-server with it, treat it as a storyboard for a real production, and see if anyone bites on it.

It's just not ready for putting people in the seats to experience it, and this is from one who loved J. Caouette's "Tarnation".