An average, calm mid-20s girl named Veronica restarts her dead dating life all of the sudden, but with two guys: a sensitive failed writer named Abel and an airheaded drummer named Zed. At ...
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Jordan White and Amy Blue, two troubled teens, pick up an adolescent drifter, Xavier Red. Together, the threesome embark on a sex and violence-filled journey through an America of psychos and quickiemarts.
An average, calm mid-20s girl named Veronica restarts her dead dating life all of the sudden, but with two guys: a sensitive failed writer named Abel and an airheaded drummer named Zed. At first she despairs. Then she finds a way to date both without their finding out. Then she tells both about it. Then Abel and Zed meet each other, and, after much initial conflict, they wind up living together and evolve into a very odd yet happy threesome. However, as time goes by Veronica starts growing apart from them, while Abel and Zed become brother-like (and kid-like). So when a director starts courting a pregnant Veronica, strains ensue. Will Abel and Zed be able to grow up and save the day?... Written by
Parca Mortem <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Former kinetic Doom Generation provocateur Araki tries to become a modern Douglas Sirk with this largely unexciting, faintly comic romance about a woman who loves two men at once and finds three-way domestic bliss, until the guys turn into "Beavis and Butthead", and she gets pregnant. Like Sirk's super-excessive 50's melodramas, the film attempts to turn basically banal, formulaic material into a swooning, sensual spectacle, and some scenes do have a striking design muscularity (the bar where a video triptych forms the backdrop to their conversation; Robertson's apartment, with the huge clock sometimes seeming suspended Dali-like). More often though, the enterprise seems merely shallow, with the movie flashing up blocks of color as if hoping that the mere evocation of a rainbow might somehow spawn a pot of gold. Araki pushes his actors into a banality that sometimes verges on sheer babyishness (Keeslar is particularly badly handled), and the movie - given its somewhat raunchy theme - displays an odd decorousness and modesty, being weirdly coy for example about the gay implications of the arrangement. The Toronto Film Festival guide cites Truffaut and Sturges as influences rather than Sirk - either way, Araki doesn't seem to be himself here.
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