If you thought Serbian cinema was bad, you ain't seen nothing until you've snuck a peak at "Dorcol Menhetn", one of the world's greatest movie atrocities. DM, sporting one of the most cretinous movie titles ever concocted by a movie-making half-wit, is a messy, amateurish, embarrassing, pointless, extremely dull soft-core-porn piece of crap, the kind of which can only stem from one person in the Balkans: Isidora Bjelica.
If you're confused/flabbergasted as to how someone could possible create such meaningless, tasteless filmoic trash, it's necessary to first learn something about the person who calls herself the film's writer/director. Isidora Bjelica is a severely deluded, deeply disturbed, emotionally crippled, vaguely human, laughably flamboyant, and basically dimwitted Belgradian-Bosnian intellectual-wannabe celebrity who infests Serbian TV chat-shows (which make "Oprah" look like a science series) on a regular basis with her particular brand of moronic musings and observations. You see, in Serbia there are many who consider themselves experts on everything, and Isidora is one of those fools. Her opinions on everything - ranging from movies to fashion to knitting to how the cosmos works - are difficult to escape; it's almost as if she's sometimes simultaneously on half of all the TV channels! You can go on a channel-zipping spree any time, and you're bound to come across that huge, crooked schnozzle at some point, covering the screen, occasionally making fake and annoying giggly noises. I guess people just love watching a train-wreck dressed as a large bird laugh like a lunatic-asylum inmate as she spouts off her demented and irrelevant views. So deep is her insecurity about her dreadful physical appearance that she even employs a fake accent, totally unfitting for someone her age: she basically imitates teenage Belgrade girls - the way they used to talk 20 years ago! (Worst yet, she's not even from Belgrade; she's from Bosnia, hence is hiding her real accentÂ…) For more on Isidora, google "vjetropev ugliest Serbian women".
She is married to the only man in Serbia who could possibly match her, inch by inch, in ugliness, insanity, and bad taste: Nebojsa Pajkic. He is arguably Serbia's most well-known movie critic - and the ONLY film critic in the world who dresses like a bad Hitler impersonator: yes, the tiny mustache, the funny hair, even the Gestapo mantel, the whole enchilada: it's all there. (Try to imagine what Hitler would have looked/behaved like if he'd reached 70 and then gone even more insane than he already was at the time of his death.) Small wonder: this infamous, unique couple are supporters of the Fascist ideology, hence admirers of Serbia's Ultra-Right political parties.
(Pajkic was once beaten up by Emil Kusturica for having trashed his movies. It's just a pity that this hilarious incident, that transpired between these two idiots, wasn't filmed and uploaded somewhere. Kusturica is a peasant, Pajkic a mega-nerd, so the attack was rather cowardly.)
If all this isn't enough to give you a feel about what this woman is all about, consider this: when on Bosnian TV she speaks in a heavy Bosnian accent, and when on Belgrade/Serbian TV she speaks in a heavy Belgrade accent. You don't find phonies like this every day...
The only thing to recommend about "Dorcol Menhetn" is the beautiful Danijela Vranjes. The rest of the cast is composed of a bunch of charisma-less nepotists (as usual) and a rapper called Gru. Gru has since distanced himself from both this turd and the pitiful Isidora, calling it "garbage": I can truly imagine how embarrassed he must still be about having been a willing participant in Bjelica's awful cinematic "experiment".
Did I mention that Bjelica also writes "books" (well, more like pamphlets: each is about the size of a one-language-only DVD manual)? They're cheap, dime-a-dozen pornographic stories which she discusses in her interviews as if they were deeply philosophical world-changing manifestos or something. Penis going into vagina is the essence of these deep, so very vibrantly thoughtful scribblings (aimed at frustrated, sex-starved middle-aged women like herself, I'd imagine...)
So how did such a talentless wretch get to publish her little booksies, or get anywhere near a film camera? Nepotism is the answer, as so often in Serbia...
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