A pack of horrible, boring gay stereotypes go at it for two hours. The movie loses itself in the carnal images that emerge from the unconscious psyche, becoming too abstract about itself (in the interlude), and forgetting how to build and develop itself in the process. It winds up lacking dimension, and squandering an interesting premise and gimmick for a lesser version of a story common in gay literature.
As in previews Hernández's features, there's a carefully constructed aesthetic dragged down by false acting, minimal yet laughable dialogue, and artsy pretentiousness. At first glance it may appear as an interesting approach into self referential intimacy but it all ends up as self pitiful unbearableness.