Every bit as self-referential as Storytelling (though certainly not as self-deprecating), the smug dot the i is only too happy to fuck with your mind. This preposterous exercise in film school elitism begins as a remarkably dull, cuchi-cuchi romance: Spanish hottie Carmen (Natalia Verbeke) falls for Kit (Gael García Bernal)—a Brazilian/Brit mutt with an inexplicable fondness to videotape the world around him—mere moments after her boyfriend proposes to her. With a name like Barnaby (James D’Arcy), it’s only natural that Carmen’s fiancé does nothing but play chess, drink wine, and pout, thus making it easier for her to get physical with someone closer in temperature and color to herself (to quote the film: “This whole Latino thing…it’s so now”). But you’re wasting your time if you’re fretting over the film’s gross exaggerations, or, more accurately, its limited worldview, not to mention the way director Matthew Parkhill’s straightforward aesthetic is repeatedly, cloying, and unexplainably interrupted by 28 Days Later-style visual outbursts meant to imply that someone (possibly an ex-boyfriend) is after Carmen. Quicker than you can say “Holy atomic pile, Batman,” director Mark Parkhill tacks on a last-act gimmick that attempts to pose as a serious discussion on the relationship between art and reality. It perhaps goes unsaid that it fails miserably. Parkhill strains for self-reflexivity, wishing dot the i had something remotely relevant to say about the lengths a person will go to in order to produce and sell a film in today’s gimmick-happy marketplace. In the end, the film is no different than the “emotional snuff film” it pretends to condemn, wiping out human emotion in favor of soulless twists.
- Summit Entertainment
- 95 min
- Matthew Parkhill
- Matthew Parkhill
- Gael García Bernal, Natalia Verbeke, James D'Arcy, Tom Hardy, Charlie Cox, Yves Aubert, Myfanwy Waring, Michael Webber
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