DIFF ’16: Demimonde

When a prostitute is as successful as Elza Mágnás, they call her a courtesan. For a scandalous woman in 1910 Budapest, she had done quite well for herself. She landed a wealthy sugar-daddy who kept her in comfort, but her mercenary ruthlessness would ultimately be her undoing. The events leading up to Mágnás’s violent end are chronicled in Attila Szász’s Demimonde (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 Dallas International Film Festival.

When Kató Szebeni applies for an assistant maid position, she expects something more like Downton Abbey than Fanny Hill. The dynamic between the housekeeper, Rózsi Kóbori and their mistress, Mágnás, is conspicuously tense, but the virtuous young woman is decidedly impressed by her dinner guest, the romantic poet, Gergely Sóvágó. It seems the lady of the house has been cheating on her benefactor, Max Schmidt, with the ardent young man. This particularly offends Kóbori, who knew both Mágnás and Schmidt when their circumstances were drastically different.

There was a time when Mágnás and Kóbori were both “hostesses” working at the “supper club” run by Cili Mama. Both spent quality time with Schmidt, but Mágnás managed to hook him. She now takes sadistic pleasure in reminding Kóbori how greatly their fortunes have diverged. Yet, the resentful housekeeper takes liberties few servants would be allowed. Obviously, the naïve Szebeni is unprepared for such a hothouse atmosphere, so Mágnás takes her under her wing, knowing full well it will only increase Kóbori’s bitterness.

Demimonde is like the classiest Danielle Steel story ever. It is just brimming with cattiness and sexual betrayal, yet it always looks like a Merchant-Ivory production. Frankly, it is rather baffling that it has not been picked up by a specialty distributor yet, because it is wildly commercial, at least by the standards of Hungarian cinema. Patricia Kovács and Dorka Gryllus give no quarter as the former friends, whereas Laura Döbrösi gives real emotional heft and dimension to Szebeni’s wide-eyed innocence. Watching the resulting friction is quite entertaining.

András Nagy’s cinematography is suitably lush, while Gergely Parádi’s anachronistic electronic soundtrack conveys the hedonistic recklessness of Mágnás’ world. It is an erotically charged film that also happens to be smart and richly realized. Highly recommended for patrons of mature costume dramas, Demimonde screens this coming Tuesday (4/19) and Wednesday (4/20), as part of the Dallas International Film Festival.

DIFF ’16: Hotel Dallas

When it came to venal, scheming families, the Ewings had nothing on the Ceauşescus. In the 1980s, Dallas was the only Western television show allowed on Romania’s state-run media. Depending who you ask, it was either programmed to instruct viewers on the evils of robber baron capitalism or to keep them distracted from the failings of the Communist regime. Clearly, it failed on the former score, but worked to an extent with respects to the latter. Romanian expat Livia Ungur and her husband-artistic collaborator Sherng-lee Huang delve into the Eastern European country’s nostalgia for the prime-time soap in the experimental docu-hybrid Hotel Dallas (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 Dallas International Film Festival.

Evidently, a dodgy Romanian oligarch actually recreated the South Fork Ranch for his Romanian resort, throwing in a scale Eiffel Tower to make it even more surreal. It is there that the weary “Mr. Here” awakens, feeling strangely at home, yet not. That is indeed Patrick Duffy, playing an uber-meta version of Bobby Ewing.

With the help of Livia, the ten-gallon hat-wearing semi-estranged daughter of the owner (Ilie, the sunflower oil king of Romania), Mr. Here will take a hero’s pilgrimage to the “Endless Column,” a public sculpture created by Constantin Brancusi. Their journey across Romania and backwards through time is interspersed with vignettes from Ilie’s past and recreations of the Ceauşescus’ fall, re-enacted by a cast of grade-schoolers draped in vintage Pioneer dress. As an added bonus, we also see the commercial Larry Hagman cut in character for a Romanian motor oil company.

Hotel Dallas is sort of the hipster loft scene version of Chuck Norris vs. Communism (frankly, those 1980s action movies hold up quite a bit better than Dallas, with Duffy’s justly mocked “only-a-dream” resurrection) While Huang and Ungur are impressive visual stylists, the implications of the film are often obscured by its postmodern gamesmanship. It is the sort of docu-essay that needs to be broken down scene-by-scene. Some work, others don’t.

One thing is clear, Patrick Duffy is a heck of a good sport. Bobby Ewing is by far his signature, bread-and-butter, claim-to-fame role, yet he gracefully sort of-kind of reprises it under the oddest of circumstances. Often heard but rarely seen, he provides the apostolic link that anchors all the dreamlike flights of fancy.

Frankly, the strangest thing about Hotel Dallas is how little Huang & Ungur have made up. Their episodic narrative is hit-or-miss, but there is something appealing about their eccentric, aesthetically eclectic approach. Recommended for patrons of experimental cinema, Hotel Dallas screens Friday (4/15) and Saturday (4/16), as part of this year’s Dallas International Film Festival.