The film begins with a woman gaining access accidentally to the wrong apartment where there's a stock super-wise-man who hands out the keys. The invaded tenant is watching a cult favorite in his underwear. He asks if she's been sent by his friends to cheer him up. That is the first and last part of the move that rings true, that she's offended by the implication that she's a prostitute. But she forgives him quickly since she's in his room and made the error. Too quickly. She starts watching the movie too quickly too and, too quickly, finds it amusing. That's as good as it gets. She moves in too quickly and stays in his bathroom and he accepts that all too quickly because I guess he doesn't need to use it. Everything has to be established too quickly because not one character or relationship has an ounce of reality. Everything about this movie is forced because it's a compendium of cliches and stock sociological issues-du-jour. Point made! On to next point! Oh? It's a metaphor? For what?
The movie moves like quicksand. That would have been a good title: Quicksand. A lot of struggling and it just goes down, down, down.
