Can't recommend this silly effort unless you're really into Slovenian T&A.
Three potty-mouthed bratz from Ljubljana canoe topless to Croatia seemingly unaware of the distraction they cause to the local peasantry. Hm... or are they really so unwitting?
Throughout the overlong running time, these three empty-headed boobs talk obsessively about sex and advertise their young bodies to old men, grannies, retards and wildlife. Eventually they provoke the response they are looking for, bringing down the wrath of the ancient Slavic pagans.
The theme of contemporary banality vs. primeval mysticism is presented symbolically and would have been more successful if it had been taken further in this direction. What the viewer is left with is a film about how women instinctively eroticize their fears, particularly their fear of The Other - a philosophical concept much in favor throughout the writings of Slovenian academic Zizek. The Other here is symbolized by the creepy wilderness of Croatia where folk are lawless, inscrutable and potentially deadly. Our girls absorb just enough terror and brutality to lubricate their sex lives and one girl is apparently led to ovulation - the deepest chamber of her womanhood.
And when they finally escape their frenzied all-night ordeal they return to the prosaic comforts of civilization, where beer tastes crappy, rock bands suck, relationships fall apart and old coots still make lame passes at teenage hotties.
So, Guardians of the Border really only succeeds in being a sexy travelogue. If only Croatia really were this interesting...
Three potty-mouthed bratz from Ljubljana canoe topless to Croatia seemingly unaware of the distraction they cause to the local peasantry. Hm... or are they really so unwitting?
Throughout the overlong running time, these three empty-headed boobs talk obsessively about sex and advertise their young bodies to old men, grannies, retards and wildlife. Eventually they provoke the response they are looking for, bringing down the wrath of the ancient Slavic pagans.
The theme of contemporary banality vs. primeval mysticism is presented symbolically and would have been more successful if it had been taken further in this direction. What the viewer is left with is a film about how women instinctively eroticize their fears, particularly their fear of The Other - a philosophical concept much in favor throughout the writings of Slovenian academic Zizek. The Other here is symbolized by the creepy wilderness of Croatia where folk are lawless, inscrutable and potentially deadly. Our girls absorb just enough terror and brutality to lubricate their sex lives and one girl is apparently led to ovulation - the deepest chamber of her womanhood.
And when they finally escape their frenzied all-night ordeal they return to the prosaic comforts of civilization, where beer tastes crappy, rock bands suck, relationships fall apart and old coots still make lame passes at teenage hotties.
So, Guardians of the Border really only succeeds in being a sexy travelogue. If only Croatia really were this interesting...