I cannot recommend this documentary, but I'm afraid that, like me, you'll find yourself drawn into it. Watching "Vakvagany" is sort of like rubber-necking when you drive by the scene of an accident; it's human nature to gawk at others' misfortunes. The scenario is truly intriguing: the directors comes across a family's often disconcerting home movies and attempt to track down the children in them. What they find are two badly damaged human beings who belong in a mental institution. The film features three "analysts," who spend far too much time trying to figure out the home movies and the children. They state the obvious, ramble, and over-intellectualize. Worst of all is the utter contempt the directors show for the now-adult children, going so far as to break into one's home. Even the music, some kind of crappy neo-Hungarian cabaret, trivializes the daily struggles of Erno, the male child. Had the directors kept their vile attitudes out of the film, it would have been a solid documentary.
