Underground

There's no denying Kusturica's technical virtuosity as he mounts one hectic, large-scale set-piece after another, but in the end it's hard to fathom the exact purpose of this epic allegory. Starting in 1941 with the German bombing of Belgrade, and moving through the post-war Tito years to the present, it follows the antics of two irrepressible con-men who become, in different ways, national heroes. One, having hidden his friend, along with many others, in a cellar to save them from the Gestapo, neglects to tell them of the war's end, profiting from their arms-making industry, until they finally break free to discover that some things never change (even though countries may disappear). Played as broad, noisy black farce, the film is about the deception of politics and heroism, dog-eat-dog morals and the propensity for violence, but one can't help thinking that behind the sometimes sensational apocalyptic imagery, there's less here than meets the eye.