Heartfelt and personal but maudlin and awkward account of the maladjustment of a six-year-old Hungarian émigré in Eisenhower-era America. It gets off on a bad foot with some remedial first-person narration, corroborative newsreel footage, and a black-and-white flashback that arbitrarily turns to color after a quarter of an hour. It isn't a good foot, either, when the sullen Scarlett Johansson takes over the role, an hour into it, without a hint of an accent. Nastassja Kinski, Tony Goldwyn; written and directed by Eva Gardos. (2001) — Duncan Shepherd
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