A young somnambulist working for his late father's monumental masonry business (and occasionally in street advertising either on stilts or, with colleagues, dressed as wraps of the local variety) falls through a skylight onto the bed of a beautiful woman visiting Buenos Ares from Madrid. The woman's grandmother reckons the auras and conjunctures are right, so the couple engage in tantric sex for the next hour and a quarter. In a few brief intervals, the young man has daydreams about his father and all the other men buried in the cemetery sitting in a long line against the outer wall of the place enjoying the sunshine. Having taught the man to be the best lover in town, the woman returns to Madrid. I didn't get the tantric bit.
Review of Don't Look Down
