Marcus Ronaldi
Google
Művész Mozi isn’t just a cinema—it’s a portal, a charming time machine tucked into Budapest’s cityscape that feels like it’s been lovingly screening films since the Lumière brothers first terrified audiences with that oncoming train.
From the moment you step under its marquee, you know this isn’t your average popcorn-and-blockbuster megaplex. No, this is the kind of place where cinema breathes—where you half expect to see Orson Welles sipping an espresso in the lobby or Jean-Luc Godard scribbling notes in the back row.
I came here to see A Főníciai Séma (The Phoenician Scheme) and let me tell you—Művész was the only place to see this film. The kind of film that begs for an environment filled with hushed reverence, eccentric posters, vintage architectural touches, and the faint smell of artistic ambition in the air.
The columns at the entrance? Like walking into a cinematic shrine. The posters? More like curated relics from a passionate film-loving cult (the good kind). The vibe? Think “Paris in the ‘60s meets Hungarian bohemian cool.” There's even a Costa Coffee inside, just in case your soul needs both caffeine and catharsis.
If Wes Anderson were to build a sacred temple for cinema, it would be this. Művész Mozi is a rare jewel in the world of film—a place where the projector whirs like a lullaby and even the ghosts of early filmgoers probably sit quietly in the back row, still not over that train.
Five stars. Two thumbs up. Eternal applause.