Something of a distribution oddity: a Mexican arthouse film that's being marketed towards the mainstream Mexican-American audience (it even had Spanish subtitles for the English dialogue). It's a Michel Franco production, for chrissake, directed by Gabriel Ripstein, who was a producer on Franco's last film. Ripstein has a similar style as his cohort, but he's clearly where the real talent lies. I recommend going into this movie completely cold, as I did (I knew Tim Roth was in it, but that's about it ... and that was enough for me). It's gloriously unpredictable from beginning to end -- I kept thinking I knew where it was going, and was gratifyingly proven wrong each time. It's ultimately a very sad movie, for reasons that aren't at all apparent until the end ... and then it's like, "Oh, yes, of course."