Leap Year

Laura's character is so complex. We see her living a superfluous life when she interacts with other characters, except for her brother Raul and a guy named Arturo. We descend to the darkest levels of the human psyche along with the main character and that exploration is highly successful by the director. The film is linear, with no jumps in time as does Inarritu or Guillermo Arriaga, and also includes sex scenes which are pretty explicit. Although it seems the movie is just porn, it goes beyond sex. The aesthetic is like simple and I think the merit of the movie is the story and how it show us the life of a lonely woman living on a big city. So, after painful and rough journey, perhaps it is possible to find hope and redemption. A great Mexican film.

Monica del Carmen is Laura Velez, a journalist living alone in an apartment in Mexico. She spends most of her time there writing her stories or cooking for herself.

She also picks up strangers for one night stands much like Diane Keaton in "Looking For Mr. Goodbar" years ago. Del Carmen is short, overweight and plain looking but she does an admirable job portraying a lonely young woman searching for something or someone, we're never quite sure what she wants or needs.

The sex scenes are somewhat explicit for a mainstream movie, so if you are offended by such material, stay away.

This is a technically simple story mostly shot in the apartment where Laura lives. He final partner has a sadistic streak, so be forewarned of some degrading behavior which is fairly unpleasant. That being said, I would like to see what Ms. del Carmen does in the future.

This is a frustrating film to watch because it is extremely claustrophobic. After the opening scene, the entire film takes place inside a small apartment. There is little by way of plot. There are many scenes of the young woman talking on the phone with her mother and brother. She also gets visits from her brother. Mostly, however, she gets visited by a man who started as a one night pickup, but the pair starts developing a sado-masochistic relationship that becomes increasingly disturbing. This is an impressive film debut for writer-director Rowe, who favors long takes and a stationary camera, an approach that is effective in conveying the loneliness of the protagonist.

"Leap Year" is simple, albeit brilliant filmmaking. There is very little, if any, "coverage" for each and every shot. No close-ups, no pans, no dolly shots, no cranes, no over-the-shoulder, and no reaction shots. The camera remains still and static throughout - time and time again simply letting the drama unfold before our eyes. We are nothing more than a voyeur. It's a bold choice - perhaps born out of budget necessity - but it nonetheless works. What's makes every shot absolutely fascinating is called "life." Human behavior. The success of this film is a tribute to the director, his belief in the story, and most of all, the trust he was able to get from his actors. Although the camera rarely moves, it tells the story better than most Hollywood directors with a much bigger budget ever could.

So, we've got this chick with a real weird hard-on for the looming February 29th, like it's the expiration date on her sanity, and wouldn't you know it, the whole shebang ends in a climax that's about as pleasant as discovering a hairball in your morning coffee. Mónica del Carmen as Laura exudes flesh and blood for this character and her journey through the personal tragedy, marked by urban solitude and loneliness. She stumbles into some kinky business that apparently glues her body, her space, and her shot at redemption together. Turns out, there's no "do not cross" tape on Laura as she begins to experience transgression and dedicates herself to licentious exercise of sadomasochism.

This is definitely an arthouse character study into a love-lust-and-loneliness casualty. Think of it as the kinky cousin of Jeanne Dielman, a watered-down Hisayasu Sato that kinda smells like the leftovers of Jean-Claude Brisseau, Götz Spielmann, Silvio Soldini, Catherine Breillat, Lars von Trier, Conrado Sanchez, Werner Schroeter, Julio Medem and Fabrice Du Welz's recent Alleluia (which, let's be honest, was pretty damn bonkers). Now, while this film delivers a potent whiff of alienation and an uncomfortably raw artistic realism, this soul-baring cinematic enema, with its troubling eroticism, is supposedly a vehicle of compassion for this deeply messed-up woman. My advice? Maybe skip this one. Seriously, proceed with the kind of caution. You've been warned.