Writer-director Parkhill overcooks the pot in this heavily-plotted thriller about a young Spanish woman fleeing an abusive relationship only to find herself caught up with the most abusive creatures known to the ages: film-makers.
Natalia Verbeke exudes hot Latin temperament as the put-upon Carmen, a flamenco dancer with a bit of a temper who seems to be settling for a safe but passionless marriage with the rich but sincere Barnaby. Along comes Kit, a sultry but slightly kooky Gael García Bernal, to show Carmen what real passion is, and complications ensue, though Carmen is deluded regarding their particular hue.
It all twists and turns rather incredulously after that, which is fair enough, but the twists are also rather telegraphed, which is unforgivable. The inclusion of comic tropes Tom and Theo gives it a lighter edge than it might otherwise deserve, as if Parkhill is not taking events too seriously himself. That is a shame, because had the film opted to go much darker, it would have worked better. The palette is full of lurid colours, as if to compensate for the pasty video footage inter-cut into the main narrative. Again, subliminally Parkhill seems to be apologising for his film.
What rescues this from its formulaic nonsensical plot is the performances of the leads. In particular, James D'Arcy shows a penchant for bipolar antagonists that is quite chilling at times. Talking straight to the video camera about killing himself, he is utterly convincing. It is a shame the script undoes his fine work later on.
Mildy engrossing, utterly forgettable afterwards, this is formulaic fluff and nonsense that is worth viewing as a casting exercise for the three lead actors who put in stand-up shifts.
Natalia Verbeke exudes hot Latin temperament as the put-upon Carmen, a flamenco dancer with a bit of a temper who seems to be settling for a safe but passionless marriage with the rich but sincere Barnaby. Along comes Kit, a sultry but slightly kooky Gael García Bernal, to show Carmen what real passion is, and complications ensue, though Carmen is deluded regarding their particular hue.
It all twists and turns rather incredulously after that, which is fair enough, but the twists are also rather telegraphed, which is unforgivable. The inclusion of comic tropes Tom and Theo gives it a lighter edge than it might otherwise deserve, as if Parkhill is not taking events too seriously himself. That is a shame, because had the film opted to go much darker, it would have worked better. The palette is full of lurid colours, as if to compensate for the pasty video footage inter-cut into the main narrative. Again, subliminally Parkhill seems to be apologising for his film.
What rescues this from its formulaic nonsensical plot is the performances of the leads. In particular, James D'Arcy shows a penchant for bipolar antagonists that is quite chilling at times. Talking straight to the video camera about killing himself, he is utterly convincing. It is a shame the script undoes his fine work later on.
Mildy engrossing, utterly forgettable afterwards, this is formulaic fluff and nonsense that is worth viewing as a casting exercise for the three lead actors who put in stand-up shifts.