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Hungarian Rhapsody
Rating: 2 Stars
AVI/YMAC. Produced by Ikarus Entertainment. Photographed and directed by Conny Haller. Edited by Joe Schneider. Music by Imre Kossuth. Starring Andras Borsos, Zoltan Nemeth, Iosi Laszlo, Tamas Nagy, Zolt Vegvari, Gabor Newman, Yuri Chekov, Alex Peterson, Gabor Szabo, Boris Palko, and Arpad Balint.
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In an open expanse of Hungarian countryside, under a vast cerulean sky, reclining lushly in the fragrant hay, Andras Borsos, a healthy, raven-haired, scythe-wielding farmer, is happily fucking his butt with one of the carrots he brought to the field for his lunch, when three young men approach him on horseback. Inspired, they swiftly dismount, get naked, mount one another, stand in a row jerking off, eject torrents of spooge, get back on their horses, and ride away feeling fulfilled.

Borsos returns home and finds farmhands Gabor Newman and Zolt Vegvari in a barn where they've just had sex. They hand him a letter from an attorney informing him that an uncle has just passed away and bequeathed him a factory. Asked to go to Budapest at once, he puts on a clean white shirt and departs, pausing briefly to watch three hearty skinny-dippers boink on the banks of the Danube.

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In the big city, Borsos goes to a bar and meets Boris Palko and Arpad Balint, who drug his beer, carry him off to their lair, and have their way with him. (Since Borsos shimmers with availability and seems delighted to wake up to find he's being ravished, their slipping him a mickey seems a gratuitous touch; it's probably there to illustrate the predatory ways of urban men.)

The next day, when our hero finally investigates his uncle's factory,

he finds only a derelict industrial space. But the indomitable Borsos populates it with a vision of fresh-faced lads he knew in the country, where all was natural and good. A seven-man orgy that never quite comes to life on the screen takes place in his head.

Plodding along with ludicrous deadpan earnestness, Hungarian Rhapsody is often on the brink of being better than it is. Technically superior to most of YMAC's recent European imports, it's undercut by dippy music, weird continuity, and badly paced, disruptive editing. Worst of all, much of the cast seems neither turned on by one another nor driven by horniness: these boys appear to be doing their duty.