Netflix cranks out movies like The Wrath of God vicious aplomb. There’s probably a sometimes-grisly, hastily written, generic thriller like this for every language in the streamer’s international market, rendered quickly consumable so it can rocket into the top-10-movies tier for a day or three and then fade into the ever-deepening tar pit of an on-screen menu, where it can half-life its way to disintegration. This one is Argentinian, based on a Guillermo Martinez novel and, as you’re about to find out, barely bothers to differentiate itself from countless other movies.
The Gist: It begins with rapturous applause for Kloster (Diego Peretti), a rich and famous crime novelist who just read part of his new book for an adoring crowd. They all want a photo or an autograph save for Esteban Rey (Juan Minujin), who gestures up towards a balcony. Luciana (Macarena Achaga) is up there. She looks desperate, like she hasn’t slept in weeks. If she doesn’t get to see Kloster, she’ll cause a scene. He goes up there. Cut to Rey, and offscreen, something makes a sickening thump.
Now, before we get any further, it seems important to let you know that this is one of those narrative-bookend type deals, where the movie segues to another scene with highly dramatic music and a subtitle that reads something like 12 YEARS EARLIER. And from there, the movie works back to the scene from the opening. You know how this goes – why open with a boring thing and work up to the exciting thing when you can cut the exciting thing in half and put one chunk up front and one chunk at the end?
