Riding across Manhattan in a stretch limo in order to get a haircut, a 28-year-old billionaire asset manager's day devolves into an odyssey with a cast of characters that start to tear his world apart.
After getting into a serious car accident, a TV director discovers an underground sub-culture of scarred, omnisexual car-crash victims who use car accidents and the raw sexual energy they produce to try to rejuvenate his sex life with his wife.
After developing an addiction to the substance he uses to kill bugs, an exterminator accidentally murders his wife and becomes involved in a secret government plot being orchestrated by giant bugs in a port town in North Africa.
After India's father dies, her Uncle Charlie, who she never knew existed, comes to live with her and her unstable mother. She comes to suspect this mysterious, charming man has ulterior motives and becomes increasingly infatuated with him.
The Weiss family is the archetypical Hollywood dynasty: father Stafford is an analyst and coach, who has made a fortune with his self-help manuals; mother Cristina mostly looks after the career of their son Benjie, 13, a child star. One of Stafford's clients, Havana, is an actress who dreams of shooting a remake of the movie that made her mother, Clarice, a star in the 60s. Clarice is dead now and visions of her come to haunt Havana at night... Adding to the toxic mix, Benjie has just come off a rehab program he joined when he was 9 and his sister, Agatha, has recently been released from a sanatorium where she was treated for criminal pyromania and befriended a limo driver Jerome who is also an aspiring actor. Written by
At the courtyard restaurant after Benjie kills Vabina, the shadows formed by the retaining wall move around between shots. In Christina's shots it's clear the sun is over her left shoulder, with the wall in shadow and the shots completed, perhaps, in the morning. In Harriet's, the shadow of the railing is on the ground, it must be around noon. In Stafford's the wall is lit up, so maybe it's the afternoon. Everyone's going to know the truth now. See more »
[Agatha recites poetry from Paul Éluard's poem, Liberty, translated from French]
On my school notebook, on my desk and the trees, on the sand and the snow, I write your name. On all the flesh that says yes, on the forehead of my friends, on every hand held out, I write your name. Liberty.
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I expected more from this film. I got almost nothing. It was like watching B production film. No plot, acting was OK but nothing out of the extraordinary and really nothing to keep me glood to the TV I almost wanted to end it before it ended, but I decided to watch it to the end since I had to write this review.
Do really people live like this in Hollywood or is it just a bad copy of it? I am not an insighter into the Hollywood stars way of life, but it seems to me that it does not portray that way of life well. Or may be it does? Who really cares? It really is not a film I can not recommend. So find something else better to do with your time then to watch this.
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