Roistering action rendered all the more tumultuous through the frequent use of a handheld, verité-style camera, György Szomjas' second exploration of Hungary's mid-19th century betyárvilág (outlaw-world) is even more mannerist than The Wind Is Whistling under Their Feet. This follow-up feature is set a quarter century later, in the aftermath of the failed anti-Austrian revolt, when the woods and marshes of western Hungary provided sanctuary for marauding bands of outlaw veterans. (As in Szomjas' first goulash western, craggy Djoko Rosic makes a splendidly foreboding bandit king.) Again drawing on popular ballads and folklore, Szomjas spins a bloody yarn of revenge and betrayal, while developing his distinctively anarchic style-the film is a doubly anti-authoritarian riot of wide-angle closeups, distracting sunbursts and abrupt swishpans. J. Hoberman