Released in theaters on September 24, 2026, Félrelépni szabad is a modern Hungarian adaptation of Georges Feydeau’s The Idiots. Directed by Dénes Orosz, the film attempts a farcical take on infidelity and relationship chaos but ultimately fails due to sterile character development and a lack of comedic timing.
There is a specific kind of cinematic torture that doesn’t come from a movie being “bad.” We can handle bad. Bad is loud, bad is offensive, bad is so absurd it becomes a campfire story for film students. But Félrelépni szabad operates in a far more dangerous territory: the void of the unremarkable. It is a film so devoid of friction that it slides right out of your memory the moment the house lights come up.
Here is the kicker: in a genre built on escalating tension and high-stakes misunderstandings, this film manages to stay at a flat, idling RPM for its entire duration. It doesn’t just miss the mark; it forgets why it was aiming in the first place.
The Bottom Line
- The Plot: A successful lawyer’s life spirals into a web of lies after a birthday party conversation about infidelity leads to a real-world betrayal.
- The Failure: Despite being set in a hotel—the gold standard for farce—the film lacks the pacing, sexual tension, and character depth required to make the chaos engaging.
- The Verdict: A sterile, uninspired effort that feels like a discarded relationship comedy from the early 2000s.
The Farce That Forgot How to Function
On paper, Dénes Orosz had the perfect ingredients. He took a classic Feydeau play, moved it to a modern setting, and trapped his characters in a hotel. In the world of comedy, this is essentially a cheat code. You lock people in a room, you introduce a lie, and you let the dominoes fall until the situation becomes untenable. But the math tells a different story here.
The story follows Bálint (László Hevesi), a high-flying lawyer, and Luca (Julianna Czakó), his partner of six years. After a birthday party debate about the morality of cheating, Bálint predictably wakes up in another woman’s bed. From there, the film should accelerate into a whirlwind of jealousy and revenge. Instead, it stutters.
The primary issue is a fundamental failure in character introduction. We are presented with a social circle that feels more like a list of tropes than human beings. We get “the loud woman,” “the insecure mother,” and “the man in love from afar.” Because the film fails to establish why we should care about these people before they start lying to each other, the stakes remain nonexistent. When the cheating begins, it doesn’t feel like a betrayal; it feels like a plot point.
| Element | Farce Requirement | Félrelépni szabad Execution |
|---|---|---|
| Pacing | Accelerating / Frenetic | Static / Sluggish |
| Setting | Claustrophobic / High Tension | Sterile / Low Energy |
| Chemistry | High Sexual Tension | Emotionally Detached |
| Humor | Unexpected / Sharp | Predictable / Over-extended |
Sterile Sex and Theatrical Hangovers
For a movie that spends its entire runtime obsessing over who slept with whom, Félrelépni szabad is surprisingly prudish. There is no spark, no mischief, and certainly no passion. The sex isn’t even “cringe” in a way that serves the plot; it is simply a utilitarian tool used to move a character from Point A to Point B.
It is a strange paradox: a film about infidelity where the characters possess zero discernible sexual chemistry. We are told they desire each other because the script says so, but the screen doesn’t reflect it. When the attraction is purely theoretical, the conflict becomes academic.
Then there is the acting. Much of the cast brings a heavy theatrical baggage to the screen, relying on broad gestures and loud reactions that would play well in a third-row balcony but feel jarring and artificial in a close-up. They are fighting a losing battle, trying to inject energy into scenes that are fundamentally hollow.
The Tragedy of the “Fine” Movie
The most frustrating part of the experience is the lack of a “hook.” In a truly disastrous film, you can laugh at the incompetence. You can analyze the specific moment the production fell apart. But Félrelépni szabad is just… there. It is visually generic and narratively inert.
Even the “reveals” are handled with a lack of imagination. In one instance, a cheating character leaves their laptop open with evidence of their infidelity clearly visible—a plot convenience so blatant it strips the scene of any genuine tension. It is writing by necessity, not by craft.
By the time the finale arrives, there is no sense of release because there was never any pressure. The movie doesn’t end with a bang or even a whimper; it simply stops.
Ultimately, this is a cautionary tale for the modern romantic comedy. In an era where audiences are pivoting toward authentic, high-energy storytelling, a “safe” and sterile approach is the riskiest move a director can make. Félrelépni szabad isn’t a scandal; it’s a nap.
Do you think the “classic farce” is dead, or can it still work in a modern cinematic setting? Let me know in the comments if you’ve seen a comedy recently that actually managed to nail the timing.
