Iván Zulueta, the madman responsible for Los Brincos' Contrabando album art wasn't just into art; he was mainlining the stuff. His debut flick, "Arrebato", isn't just batting its eyelashes at the medium; it's a full-on, drug-fuelled ménage à trois, a wild ride that transports you straight into Zulueta's transgressive cinema.. We're talking about a movie that flips the bird to narrative rules, opting instead for a glorious, unhinged freefall.
Our dubious hero on this descent into chaos is José (Eusebio Poncela), a horror director whose sunken cheeks and nicotine-stained fingers are a testament to his chosen lifestyle of editing cinematic garbage between heroin power naps. He tumbles headfirst into the bizarre world of Pedro (Will More), a peculiar acquaintance who drops a bombshell in José's mailbox: a confession tape, an audio diary charting Pedro's ever-deepening, almost vampiric love affair with film itself.
From that moment on, it's a tight, airless journey where reality and hallucination start doing a dizzying dance. A relentless tide of heroin pulls José and his on-again, off-again squeeze, Ana* (Cecilia Roth), deeper into its clutches. Zulueta shoots this like someone who's stared into the abyss and found a movie camera. Every frame practically oozes. The camera practically salivates over José's veins as he ties off. Pedro's homemade films hiccup and sputter, punctuated by jarring flashes of red-like celluloid actually bleeding. There's sex, but it's all clammy skin and fumbled attempts at connection. A threesome in an elevator that feels less like an erotic fantasy and more like a macabre dissection.
Pedro isn't just filming; he's striking a Faustian bargain. The camera sips his time, his sanity, his very life force. By the time the credits roll, he's not just behind the lens; he's become the lens. José, of course, follows suit. Because what is addiction, really, if not trading your mortal coil for a sublime, fleeting rush? Zulueta knew this intimately; he was deep in his own addiction when he brought this beast to life.
Ultimately, "Arrebato" delivers a truly singular and unforgettable experience-a straight-up Lynchian odyssey through the darkest back alleys of cinematic obsession. It's where the camera itself morphs into a hungry, vampiric entity, draining the very essence from anyone brave enough to fall under its spell. When it all clicks-when Pedro's flickering films and José's dissolving face meld into the reel-it's more than just cinema. As one character so eloquently puts it, perfectly capturing the film's twisted heart: "All my life, it was like a huge wank without cum."
