
Budapest is a spectacular city, whose beauty remained undiminished by fifty-some years of Communist misrule. Though it is a world away from Rio, the city would exert an irresistible pull on José Costa following a chance stopover in the Hungarian capitol. Returning home from the annual ghost-writers convention, Costa is increasingly frustrated to see his clients celebrated for his words. Especially disturbing is the extent to which his newsreader wife seems charmed by one particular German expat customer currently enjoying a run on the bestseller list, thanks to his ghost-writing services.
Costa’s intimate relationship with language has been a blessing and a curse in his life, so immersing himself in Hungarian represents an attempt to hit the reset button. He finds himself deeply attracted to his divorced language teacher Kriszta, but is frustrated by both verbal and emotional language barriers. Though Kriszta claims Magyar is “the only language the Devil respects,” Costa soon masters it to the level that he again finds himself facing the same dilemma regarding the ownership of his words.
Ironically, Budapest’s story of a frustrated ghostwriter was in fact written by a celebrity, Buarque, who makes a surreal, non-musical cameo appearance. The film’s soundtrack actually features none of the author’s vocals, instead showcasing Leo Gandelman’s smoothly romantic saxophone and some effective string chamber music.
Leonardo Medeiros is a mass of insecure neuroses as José Costa (a.k.a. Zsoze Kósta), but not a particularly pleasant protagonist to spend time with. However, Gabriella Hámori brings intriguing depth to Kriszta, Costa’s demanding teacher and mercurial lover.
Carvalho e

Caustically satirizing the book business, Budapest is a memorable film media professionals would particularly appreciate. Ultimately though, it is a strange, dreamlike love letter to the poetic power of words and one of the truly great cities of the world. It screens again tonight (8/7) as the Petrobras Brasil Fest concludes at the Tribeca Cinemas.