Critic Reviews

Serbis has the feel of a documentary, but a documentary can't accomplish what Serbis does: Take us to a corner of the world where sex and regret are so intimately entwined.

Serbis may be a raunch-fest, but it's also a mind-trip--a raunch-fest with ideas.

Merry, filthy, unstoppably hormonal, Serbis feels very much like the sort of movie that happens when no one is minding the store.

At its best, Serbis is a vibrant slice of life that establishes this theater as a living organism, nurturing a society of outcasts; it's like "Ship Of Fools" with blowjobs and boil-lancings.

Gentle, bawdy and at times rambunctiously, ticklishly rude.

The theater building is a four-story monster, and by the end of the picture we know it very well, in all its broken-down glory.

The camera explores each nook and cranny of the dilapidated movie-house like an usher who knows his way round blindfolded, and the building, with its richly visual interior structures desperately in need of an overhaul, comes to symbolize poetically the predicament of its inhabitants and their moral ambiguity.

Raunchy and profane.

This is not a film most people will enjoy. Its qualities are apparent only if appreciates cinematic style for itself.

Brillante Mendoza’s latest opus that revels in shock value.