Does white people become the way they do as they age, and in getting to know the tough housekeeper played by Helen Mirren here, you discover much about the cranky woman who barely smiles, and when she does, it's exuberant. I guess if you saw your mother commit suicide by jumping into a well after discovering that her two younger daughters had been struck by lightning and burnt to a crisp, you'd be scarred as well, especially after witnessing the slaughtering of her calf pet. Mirren accepts a position of working for Hungarian novelist Martina Gedeck, basically having her boss to be applied to have her rather than the other way around. As their relationship begins to gain some trust, Mirren lets her in, but only a teensy bit at a time, and in short order, they come to depend on each other even if that door remains closed, both physically and psychologically.

Playing a most determined character, Mirren is commanding throughout, often funny even when she's at her crankiest. There's always a hint of a smile in her frown as if it's obvious to her that she knows she is cranky and is either hiding her secret Joy like the lighting in the fact that she's always in a bad mood. The story of the relationship really isn't a strong plotline, in getting to know this powerful woman, you really get to see her soul even if it's hidden behind the metaphor of the door. Gedeck is great in support, with Károly Eperjes understated as her frustrated husband whom Mirren declares to be an idiot. This character-driven drama with elements of subtle comedy is well worth seeing, solely for Mirren. While the characters are Hungarian and the story is set in Hungary, there is no attempt to put on a fake accent, but it doesn't matter because it's about the relationship with the two women, not the setting.

Not having read the novel, I am not sure whether the film is great or if the film was infused greatness by the novel. The subject is remarkable. The performances of the two leading ladies are remarkable too, with an unforgettable turn by Ms Mirren. A highlight are cameos by Czech director Jiri Menzel as a lung surgeon with director Istvan Szabo standing behind him at the door as his colleague. Evidently Szabo and Menzel were mutual admirers. Szabo's "Budapest Tales" and "Mephisto" are superior to this noteworthy work.

Belonging to another time and another world perhaps, this inexplicable relationship between an author and her main remains just that, inexplicable.