Más que amor, frenesí

This movie is terribly bad. I don't know how this ¿script? passed any kind of selection. I must say that it is under the level of the actors in the movie, and, believe me, that's not easy. It's really sad to see that not one, but ¡three! directors, with all their talent together, are unable to overcome the level of shame.

In the beginning, Nancho Novo's faces, remembering some sexual-criminal scene, already promises the absurd and bad-done development of the rest of the movie. The mixture of Madrid's "movida" and the deep feelings and the thriller atmosphere is really pathetic. The personal stories of the characters have been seen thousand times before, although the directors show them as very interesting and full of deep passion. The violent ending adds more absurd stupidity to the plot.

Anyway, it's not a surprise to see how bad this film is. It is part of a sort of genre of Spanish bad movies, trying to imitate Almodovar's model, believing that filming sex, gay ambient, drugs and frenetic passions makes a movie a good movie. Unfortunately for these three directors, if you have a stupid story nothing works. And I guess that's what they will always have in their (I hope short) careers.