This film is so awful, that it's unworthy of many lines, a simple thumbs down it's all it requires, but since IMDb doesn't accept a short critic, let's elaborate a bit.
Beginning with the director, Marco Bechis, (let's throw a sorrowful veil of oblivion upon him and the sooner we forget him, the better).
Everything is wrong with this film, the photography, the sound, the background music, the color, the camera settings...what else? consider something I forgot and include it here, you won't be wrong in so doing.
Carlos Echeverría, the son in this story -the main character- maybe it's his first experience in front of a camera --I really hope so, because otherwise he could find a better and easier way to make a living doing anything else on earth than being an actor.
Maybe he was wearing a mask, because he never changed expressions during the whole movie. Joy, sadness, angriness, deep thinking, his expressions were always the same: Blank. The total lack of believability for this character starts with the fact that he's supposed to be a native Italian and yet, speaks Italian with an accent!
Julia Sarano --his probable sister-- follows Echeverría's school of acting. Not a single intonation of hers sounds credible. The only credible thing is her Argentinian accent when speaking Italian, since it could be cut with a knife. This, for a change, goes well with her character, because being a foreigner in Italy, she doesn't need to speak faultlessly with an exquisite Milanese accent. On the other hand, if she's Italian, chapeau for her imitation of a foreign accent because it's superb. But her acting... Mamma mia! she should be thrown to the lions, with no remorse.
Stefania Sandrelli, usually such an excellent and reliable actress, is totally wasted in this film, but even so, hers is the best rounded character, even acting under very poor directorial guidelines, she manages to introduce subtle shadings of her own.
Enrique Piñeyro quite good as the boy's father, but his character is poorly delineated.
The dialog, by the director Marco Bechis and Lara Fremder is so bad that couldn't do even for a Venezuelan soap opera (some of them are true masterpieces next to this script).
Barcelona, such a gorgeous location as a background for any film, here is totally ignored and represented when necessary by a miserable strip of sand and ONE palm tree --yes, ONE-- or by the sky, covering the whole screen and giving you the idea of a vast universe, I suppose.
Two sadly wasted hours of my life that will never come back!
