This is not for the squeamish or for people who are offended lightly. They will hate this. But then again, it is very unlikely they will find out about the movie… and even if they do, they will only rant about it, without watching it. This is a tale of the brutal sex traffic between the former USSR and the UK stands as a metaphor for the rape of imagination that rules the global culture business.
Rendered with dazzling tracking shots, striking CGI effects and a pulsing soundtrack, Hungarian director Szabolcs Hajdu’s risk-taking fantasia has style to spare. But under the seductive surface lurks the very human story of a woman who uses fantasy to cushion the pain of life. In order to regain custody of her daughter, whom she left in the care of her fortune-telling aunt, Mona must tell a social worker her story. The tale she spins – and the movie we watch – is a wild, surreal adventure in which people are able to project and enter each other’s dreams, and our heroine is sold into slavery and lands in a swank, debauched Liverpool brothel where the patrons enact their literary/sexual fantasies with Lolita, St. Joan, and Desdemona.
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