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The Maiden Danced to Death is clumsy 

Canadian/international co-production fails to impress

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With a heavy-handed (and heavy-footed) touch, director-writer-actor Endre Hules parades his Hungarian folk dance drama onto the screen. Hules, who fled communist Hungary, returns to the homeland, his brother (Zsolt Làzslò), his brother’s wife (Bea Melkvi) and the dance company he abandoned. Montages punctuate choppy camera work---including Hules, Làzslò and Melkvi prancing like buffoons through Budapest. Hules, now a show promoter, produces his brother’s show (The Maiden Danced to Death), jeopardizing everything to make it an international hit. Did one of the two brothers sell his soul to the devil, just as the fated maiden did? Hules regurgitates this question and slaps us over the head with it, meanwhile spoon-feeding us a plot laden with clunky dialogue. The old world versus the riches of the new world; good versus evil. We get it.


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