The Wrong Movie

This film might be the final chapter of a story we’re all part of. A chamber piece set in a US city. Keren Cytter reveals her ensemble very slowly: young people loosely connected to each other and yet existentially linked. Trying to understand themselves and others. Money is a problem, to say nothing of life. Uniqueness. Everyone is carrying some sort of burden: Angel an old flame, Timur drugs, Nicole the ashes of her dead father (in her shopper bag). Death leaves behind traces, filth, reality. Beliefs pop up alongside shortcomings: “You’re too white.” In constantly shifting relationship constellations, they wear their intense feelings on their sleeves, get wrapped up in each other and fall into magnificent loops of dialogue. And yet every attempt at intimacy leads to another moment of helplessness. “It’s a vacuum cleaner. Do you wanna fuck me?” – “No.” Within all this somnambulant swerving, technological gadgets point to the future. The close and the distant, identity are easier to negotiate online for digital natives – and to market. A cleverly constructed tragedy about chilling, with fantastic synth sounds and one of the best uses of a drone in cinema history.