Dependencia sexual

With generosity and patience one could appreciate this movie. However, the director's choice of using split screens throughout is an overwhelming mistake that gets in the way of everything else he is trying to do. It becomes annoying, like receiving text totally underlined and in capital letters: not everything is equally important nor do the images on one side of the screen contribute continuously in any significant way to what happens on the other side nor enhance our grasp of the whole. So, we are regretfully left with a boring and pretentious conceit of the sort that should have been outgrown in film school. Rodrigo Bellott is nowhere near being a Peter Greenaway who can manipulate aspect ratios and split screens to profound dramatic effect, thereby creating effective, well-structured wholes (e.g. The Pillow Book, a film only done full justice on a theatre screen where the diverse aspect ratios which occur throughout the film can be shown.... DVD's can't do it).

Better luck next time.... and I truly hope there is a next time for Mr. Bellott. Forcing oneself to ignore his unfortunate aesthetic choice (and this is hard, for there is no avoiding it for the whole frigging movie) one realizes that Mr. Bellott may indeed have something worthwhile to say. I wish him to try again, preferably with a strong, experienced but sensitive producer at his side.

In 'Sexual Dependency', writer/director Rodrigo Bellot delivers a stark, brutal and overwhelmingly honest portrayal of humanity as driven by their sexual urges, desires, and fears. Reduced to animals, the human condition is merely a thin veneer stretched tightly over millennia of instinct. However, the film is also about the ever-changing roles of people as determined by shifting environments and perspective, which Bellot drives home through the use of a fairly uncommon and at times disconcerting film technique.

So as to ensure the central message that sexual politics and animal group dynamics are fundamental to all, Bellot and fellow co-writer Lenelle N. Moise, rather than zooming in on one small cross-section of society as representative of all humanity, present a series of loosely-connected short stories populated with a number of different social groups. To really hammer the point home and ensure the viewer doesn't dismiss the unsettling narratives as simply the darker side of Bolivian culture, the action transfers halfway through to New York, where the same fundamentals of aggression are at work.

Another function of the anthology is to show a progression of both sexual awakening and the inevitable consequences of social groups led by dominant and aggressive leaders. Thus the first segment explores the difference between fantasy and reality as centred around a 15-year-old girl when the testosterone-filled vultures begin to circle. However, while male dominance and aggression are undeniably the driving force of all conflicts throughout 'Sexual Dependency', the young girl's unpressured curiosity and awakening sexual desires against the juggernaut of a young man whose hormones will brook no disagreement are thrown into sharp contrast with the unwitting young man forced into sexual adventure by his peers in the next segment. By the end of the film, the dominated males are no less numerous.

The third segment then shifts the focus from the weak to the sexual predator, exploring the ways in which they remain leader of the herd and how these acts impact those around them. Importantly, it also delves into the insecurity of that psyche, which plays an even greater role later on. It is here that the action relocates to New York, with one of the key Bolivian characters moving there and discovering both the true fragility of the world they have built up for themselves and that the law of the jungle is the only universal constant.

In this way, the cultural shift not only reinforces the argument that basic social behavior is the same everywhere, but also demonstrates that positions of dominance are entirely relative. Here, the hunter of one world may become the prey of another, though in a film set in two countries, cultural difference in and of itself becomes a contributing factor. Besides this, the New York half of 'Sexual Dependency' goes on to explore themes not already addressed earlier, such as homophobia, rape, and reinforcing heterosexual group dynamics north of the border. The overall progression from innocence to revelation and fall continues throughout and the final segments begin to blur together in a chaotic mess (carefully structured) so as to echo the crushing mental and physical pain brought on by fear, loathing, victimization, realization, and the fall from innocence.

Full credit must go to Bellot for choosing a cast who clearly understood what was being asked of them and performed it with absolute believability. I can't think of a single actor present who didn't deliver. The subtitles also were absolutely spot-on, with excellent use of equivalent English slang and colloquialisms to really ensure that cultural difference didn't distract from the underlying message. I was also quite impressed by the overall thematic progression and the way in which the way the film was edited together managed to match the escalating drama unfolding on screen, leading to a rich and layered experience as a result.

The most obvious example of this is the way the film itself was shot. Bellot experiments with the widescreen format to a degree not often seen before, by having two moving images at once. For the most part, this simultaneous imagery is of the same subject, with one camera filming from a different angle. However, one video is often a few seconds out of sync with the other, providing a sort of 'echoing' effect, which is most effectively used in a monologue segment later on. At other times, the two images may be entirely different, with one intended as a thematic contrast to the other, and by the time of the drama's chaotic climax-as-descent, the visual confusion rises to a crescendo. The overall success of this technique is varied, in some places proving quite effective, while at other times being quite disconcerting and overcomplicated and in some places, not especially necessary.

Another criticism I would make has to do with the murky breaking of the fourth wall that occurs toward the end of the film. Metatextuality is an art in its own right and often hard to pull off without being seemingly over-clever or gratuitous. Suffice to say, 'Sexual Dependency' is a title both of and within the film. It doesn't dampen the overall aim of the film, but it did make me feel a little cheated and emotionally 'exploited', although perhaps I simply didn't see what other viewers may regard as glaringly obvious.

The bleak nature and stark reality of the subject matter unapologetically makes for a rather uncomfortable and disturbing film at times. Two hours in the company of base human desire is certainly not an easy ride. It should cause the viewer to look at themselves and how they may fit into the social hierarchy. It bypasses our rational excuses for ourselves and holds the truth up to the mirror where we can't escape. While certain aspects of its presentation and narrative manipulation didn't always work for me, 'Sexual Dependency' is a powerful, thought-provoking work of cinema and a sobering commentary on this most fundamental part of the human animal.

There are some movies you start watching with "oh what now?!" and at the end you thank the Providence you did...

I avoid describing formal part - it's something you can discuss for long if you like after the movie and maybe it makes you watch it again "to fully understand". Whatever. Don't forget a wonderful selection of the music - at least for this reason the movie is something to see for those who are not interested for the other reasons.

The importance for me consists in a topic. Let's say it simply - the mentality of a straight-male world. "Oh, they are not all the same." Of course, we talk about those who are. About the chronical misunderstanding between genders - "marry me, let's make children, build a house,..." and the other gender, that learned that "I love you!" is a good way to say "I wanna f..k you" without offending the romantic ideals of the other one. I am not a frustrated woman whose feelings were hurt. I am a gay man - who just watches this never-ending game as a third part (with insight to both sides) and has "fun". Sometimes not so funny-kind-of-fun.

I'd relate it to a movie In The Company Of Men - that was told "to divide times" to Before and After. May it be so. Now perhaps again, from different continent(s) - and with more characters to watch (maybe in different times) - so the image we are served is to be much more "universal"-like. But - it's not Bolivia, it's not America - this is the slight touch to the general mentality what the masculine thinks about what their masculinity is. That men never grow up inside from the age of 15...? They are the hunters in the core? They are expected to be so? What you think? At least consider...

And now time for the point - the movie is a precise composition of the images that will be burnt in your head like a CD. And if not the scenes, not the dialogs, then for sure all the feelings and tunings and small internal shame you'll experience. One of the reasons to recommend this movie is the one mentioned in the title - for me it took days to digest it - even if my opinion was similar before. It HAS A TASTE - maybe bitter - but it's more then nowadays you can expect from the other politically correct and all-is-nice or all-will-be-OK films.

Enjoy it, first feel, then think, admit, then the change will come itself. Let's hope.

While a lot of the time, I am a mainstream guy - who likes to watch known films with a lot of buzz and famous celebs, one in a while I take myself more seriously, and venture out to explore on foreign terrain. This time, I decided to listen to my gut feeling, and rent Sexual Dependency. While usually, Spanish-language films annoy me - the premise behind Sexual Dependency sounded interesting, especially to me - a guy who enjoys movies with sexual themes.

I was pleasantly surprised by this movie: when I started watching it, and the split screen appeared, with dramatic music in the background - I was a bit hesitant. I though "Well, there starts another tears-filled international drama". In edition, the split screen really confused me in the beginning, and I thought to myself "Where the hell should I look?". But after you get the deal with the filming, you learn to appreciate this work of art: the idea of different perspective to each scene is amazing! Whoever though of showing us this split world is a genius!

Another thing to like about this movie is the collection of people, whose stories interweave amongst each other. Even though some stories are more interesting and unique, and other are a bit more commercial and clichéd - the general picture is quite nice. The end of the movie is highly surprising, though weak, and a lot of ends don't create a tie - yet still, you feel fulfilled after you watch this film.

While it is not perfect, it falls quite closely - thanks to an interesting plot construction, amazing filming, and even a little bit of South American music can't hurt.

If you're into unique work of cinematic art - especially international film fans - you cannot afford to miss this creation.

I think this could have been a good film, but, as others have mentioned, the split-screen 'style' (?) is incredibly annoying over 100-odd minutes of watching, or, in this case, watching TWICE. That adds up to 200-odd minutes of watching five different stories, all while distracting you with camera gimmickry.

In the mid-1960s, a graphic designer from Toronto, Ontario, Canada named Chris Chapman created the split-screen idea for a short film on the Province of Ontario for the provincial government. It was a sensation at Expo '67 in Montreal, and was such a novel idea that Toronto director Norman Jewison (and others) used it in 1960s films.

The idea, predictably, went nowhere. It was trendy, had flair, but was not sustainable over the length of an entire film. Jewison used it sparingly in The Thomas Crown Affair (1968), and it annoyed critics even then. And here, almost 40 years later, we have a director who thinks it would be a great idea to try it again, this time (unlike Jewison, who was far more judicious) over the ENTIRE STRETCH of a movie.

I was astounded that this was done. It defies basic physical laws. The human eye just cannot catch up with a blizzard of jump cuts (and that's what they really amount to) over a feature-length. Instead of intensifying the drama, it instead made me truly irritated.

Repeat: I THINK this could have been a good film. Or is that films, as in plural?