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Dot The I

2003, Movie, R, 92 mins

DOT THE I | EL PUNTO SOBRE LA I
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Novelist-turned-filmmaker Matthew Parkhill's feature debut, a self-conscious thriller in the convoluted neo-noir tradition of THE LAST SEDUCTION (1994), revolves around a woman with a dark past and the two men competing for her tortured affections. But its seductive stylishness is undermined by one narrative twist too many; by the time the last revelation has been unveiled with a "But wait!" flourish, the contrivances have entirely overwhelmed the characters. Hot-tempered Carmen (Natalia Verbeke) fled Madrid for London in hopes of escaping her past, especially the ex-boyfriend who scarred her with acid. She seems to have found the perfect man in handsome, independently wealthy Barnaby (James D'Arcy). He's a little on the dull side, but he asks her to marry him after a mere six months of dating, and surely willingness to commit trumps tempestuous romance, which has only brought Carmen heartache. But during her "hen party" at a fancy French restaurant, the maitre d' insists Carmen uphold an old Gallic tradition that demands brides-to-be kiss their freedom goodbye by locking lips with a total stranger. Carmen obligingly shares a kiss with handsome, passionate, half-Brazilian/half-English Kit Winter (Gael Garcia Bernal), a compulsive videographer whose camcorder is all but welded to his palm. Their instant, ardent connection makes her wonder whether accepting Barnaby's proposal was such a good idea, and torrid goings-on ensue. To say much more would spoil the crafty narrative developments that are the film's raison d'etre, but suffice it to say that there's more to this apparently classic love triangle than meets the eye. Parkhill knows his way around a good-looking shot, and there's a valid reason for the dizzying visual shifts from film stock to video — the film is toying with the intersection of illusion and reality in ways that can't be explained without tipping part of the too-clever-for-its-own-good twist that's revealed two thirds of the way through. But there's no sizzle between the leads — it's not easy to make Bernal seem awkward and uncharismatic, but Parkhill manages — and it's hard to get emotionally attached to rain-slicked alleys, no matter how gorgeously they're photographed. By the time one of the three leads makes the gnomic pronouncement that "The camera never lies, even when it deceives," the film is firmly mired in self-referential purgatory. leave a comment --Maitland McDonagh
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