A protean shapeshifting work not only in its multiple practice of forms, styles, genres, but also visually, it's a film of faces gradually shifts to landscapes. But yet, I find Llinas' best asset is a visceral drive granted to all characters, giving every story an emotional richness of its own
I sat in the cinema for 14.5 hours and all I feel really inclined to say is that it felt spectacularly good to get drunk afterwards. Edit: La Flor is already becoming a faint afterglow in my mind that might resemble fondness. My main qualm, and what I must attempt to preserve, is what I see as the careless skills of its director. Too much of it plays as knowing pastiche but is indistinguishable from incompetence.
The unfinished narratives, the juxtaposition of genres, the insistent incoherence between the chapters, the self-referentiality, the main actresses stepping in and out of roles, the mediocre parts that serve a greater whole, add up to, not a formalist exercise, but a poem about storytelling and the artistic process.