A serbian film

Of the many rumors circulating about this movie, some of which already belong to the contemporary folklore, my favorite is the French distributor, which, seeing the tape, could not withstand the violent images, fainted and broke the nose. Do not be fooled. The film by Srdjan Spasojevic Serbian contributes very little thing to what we saw in Hostel (Eli Roth, 2006) Martyrs (Pascal Laugier, 2008) or Á l'intérieur (Alexandre Bustillo, 2007) .

This is another uplifting exercise in torture-porn thicker strokes which detract some interpretations, in certain scenes, surprisingly demanding, and a remarkable technical achievement of quality. Regarding the script, besides the usual shortcomings in this type of production, the film is peppered with a little speech pseudo-political rhetoric that sounds like a victim, which, coming from a Serb, not without grace, and is more false than false Monea (you know, that goes hand in hand and none of the quea ).Milosh (Srdjan Todorovic) was a porn superstar, filmed hundreds of movies and had carnal knowledge with some of the most desirable women in the world. However, now retired dirty business, only aspires to lead a normal life with his wife Mary and their son Petar.

Laudable intentions are clouded by the numerous economic difficulties in the family and our protagonist's tendency to herd a shot of Jack Daniel's creaking walls (by the way, I guess the company owes Tennessee have financed a Much of the film, as its distinctive black label appears in about twenty close-ups throughout the footage). To complete this beautiful family picture, Milosh has a corrupt policeman brother, rake and whoremonger, which aims to benefit its legitimate basis to pitch looks grim and mark package. Not surprisingly, therefore, that relieved the low end in a scene exactly like that of Ben Stiller in There's Something About Mary ( Peter Farrelly / Robert Farrelly, 1998) but, yes, showing a little more than aiming (at Indeed, one expected him to leave the toilet with a chorretón of ... hairspray dripping from his toupee).

A Serbian Film is a good movie that is hindered by its own excesses. Powerfully influenced by some of the more recent horror film titles in Europe and North America, Srdjan Spasojevic has chosen to give a triple somersault on the wire, rather than avoid repeating the same mistakes as their predecessors, seems more interested in splashing happily in all sorts of bodily fluids. I can not end this review without remembering that, at the instigation of a lawsuit filed by the Catholic Confederation of Parents (CONCAPA), a judge banned the screening of A Serbian Film Week in Horror and Fantasy Film Festival of San Sebastián. That ruling meant that, a title more in the crowded San Sebastian festival's lineup, became cult instantly and receive the Audience Award for being a symbol of freedom of expression.

So far, the producer Showtime has bought the rights to broadcast via cable the full version of the film (much like Americans imagine how depraved they impale their members defenseless Barriguitas upright) and it appears that, once again, thanks to the strenuous efforts of a group of amateur censors, A Serbian Film will live much longer and more profitable than its authors could imagine.