It’s 1986, and the dream of 17-year-olds Carlos (a cauterized Xabiani Ponce de León) and Gera (José Antonio Toledano) is about to come true: admittance to Mexico’s (not Berlin’s) most exclusive night spot. Invite ‘em once, and they’ll be back every night begging for more. When asked if the makeup of the crowd is predominantly gay or bisexual, a regular replies, “We’re fun people.” Fun? Where’s the fun in a film where every moment is captured in the miracle of Hand-Held-O-Rama? For decades, directors were able to convey tension at a family dinner table without tremoring a lens. Perhaps the jiggling is meant to cover for the familiarity of yet another sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll coming of age yarn. Then there’s this: steal dad’s car for a night of clubbing and park it 100 feet from the venue’s front door. In the time it took for the bouncer to turn them away, the passenger window was shattered and the stereo stolen. Surely they would have heard the break-in? If the post-punk 80’s were as unassured as Hari Sama’s staging, we’d still be listening to disco. (2019) — Scott Marks
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