If you’ve ever stumbled across a clip of pulsating, neon-drenched animation that looks like a fever dream from 1970s Budapest, you’ve probably seen the work of György Kovásznai. But his magnum opus, the 1979 feature film Habfürdő—better known to international cult cinema circles as Nights in Boulevard György Kovásznai or simply Bubble Bath—is something else entirely. It isn’t just a movie. It’s a rhythmic, anxiety-ridden, visually explosive musical that feels more modern than most stuff coming out of major animation studios today.
Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle it exists.
Most people expect Eastern Bloc animation from the late seventies to be stiff, maybe a bit grayscale, or heavily bogged down in obvious political allegory. Kovásznai went the other way. He chose the "boulevard"—the heart of urban life—and filled it with shifting perspectives, grotesque character designs, and a jazz-funk soundtrack that hits like a ton of bricks. It’s about a man who gets cold feet on his wedding day and visits a woman who isn't his fiancée. Sounds simple? It isn’t. The visual style changes every five seconds because Kovásznai was obsessed with "animative painting." He didn't want the characters to stay in their lines. He wanted them to dissolve.
Why Nights in Boulevard György Kovásznai Broke All the Rules
At the time, Pannónia Film Studio in Hungary was a powerhouse. They were doing world-class work. But while others were making family-friendly adventures, Kovásznai was interested in the psychological messiness of the urban middle class. Nights in Boulevard György Kovásznai captures a specific kind of claustrophobia.
💡 You might also like: Kiss My Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep: The Dark Folklore of a Viral Lullaby
The film's technical approach is genuinely wild. You have to realize that this was all hand-painted. There are moments where a character is talking, and suddenly their face transforms into a series of abstract smears, only to snap back into a caricature. This wasn't just for flair. Kovásznai believed that a person’s inner state—their nerves, their horniness, their boredom—couldn't be captured by a static drawing. If you're feeling frantic, your outline should look frantic.
The Musical Chaos of 1970s Budapest
The soundtrack is a massive part of the experience. It’s a "musical-operetta," but not the kind you'd see on Broadway. It’s filled with disco, jazz, and weird spoken-word interludes. The songs don't always move the plot forward in a traditional way. Instead, they heighten the sensory overload of the city.
The film bombed when it first came out. People didn't get it. They wanted something "pretty" like Son of the White Mare (another Hungarian masterpiece, but very different in tone). Kovásznai's work was seen as too ugly, too loud, or just too strange. But that’s exactly why it has survived. It doesn't feel dated because it never tried to be "of its time" in a safe way. It was trying to be the future.
📖 Related: Kate Moss Family Guy: What Most People Get Wrong About That Cutaway
The Visual Language of the Boulevard
When we talk about the aesthetic of these nights, we’re talking about a mix of Pop Art and Neo-Expressionism. One scene might look like a Peter Max poster, and the next looks like a messy charcoal sketch. It’s exhausting in the best way possible.
Kovásznai used "live-action" interviews as the basis for some of the dialogue. He wanted to capture how real people in Budapest actually talked—the stutters, the awkward pauses, the slang. Then, he animated over that reality with total fiction. This blend of documentary realism and psychedelic visuals is what makes the "nights" in his work feel so visceral. You aren't just watching a story about a guy named Zsolt; you're feeling the humidity of the apartment and the vibration of the street traffic outside.
The legacy of György Kovásznai is often overshadowed by his early death in 1983. He didn't get to see the digital revolution. He didn't see how animators today use software to mimic the "messy" look he spent years perfecting with actual paint and cells. But if you watch Habfürdő today, the influence is obvious. From the character designs in The Ren & Stimpy Show to the fluid, morphing backgrounds in modern indie shorts, Kovásznai’s DNA is everywhere.
👉 See also: Blink-182 Mark Hoppus: What Most People Get Wrong About His 2026 Comeback
How to Experience the Kovásznai Style Today
If you're looking to dive into this world, don't just look for a plot summary. You’ll be disappointed. The plot is paper-thin. You watch it for the "nights," the atmosphere, and the sheer audacity of the transitions.
- Seek out the 4K restoration: The Kovásznai Research Center and the National Film Institute Hungary recently restored the film. The colors are eye-bleedingly bright now.
- Ignore the subtitles for a bit: Just watch the movement. The way a hand moves toward a coffee cup tells you more about the character's social anxiety than the dialogue does.
- Listen to the rhythms: The movie is structured like a piece of music. The "boulevard" is a metronome.
It’s easy to dismiss old animation as a historical curiosity. Don't do that here. Nights in Boulevard György Kovásznai is a loud, sweaty, brilliant piece of cinema that proves animation isn't a genre for kids—it's a medium for expressing the things that reality is too rigid to handle.
Actionable Steps for New Viewers
To truly appreciate this work without getting overwhelmed, start by watching his short films first. "Ca Ira" or "Ad Astra" give you a bite-sized look at his methodology. When you finally sit down for the full "Nights" experience, do it on the biggest screen you have. This isn't a "watch on your phone during a commute" kind of movie. It requires your full attention because the moment you blink, the style has changed again.
Support the archives that keep this stuff alive. The work of the Kovásznai Foundation is the only reason these films aren't rotting in a basement. They’ve documented his paintings and his writings, which provide a bridge between the fine art world and the animation desk. Understanding that Kovásznai considered himself a painter first changes how you see every frame. He wasn't drawing cartoons; he was making the paintings move.
Explore the official Kovásznai archives to see the original concept sketches. Comparing the static oil paintings to the final animated sequences reveals the immense technical labor required to make a "fluid" night on the boulevard. This is the peak of Hungarian cultural output from the era, standing alongside the best of world cinema.