This is hardly the worst debut feature I’ve ever seen, but it’s certainly among the laziest: the main character dispenses an endless stream of expository voice-over to explain what we’re seeing onscreen, and whenever the action is challenging to stage—a fight that ends in someone’s death, for instance—writer-director Javier Andrade simply enacts it offscreen, covering his tracks with an arty static shot. The narrator and his brother are the grown, spoiled children of an Ecuadoran politician; the older one works in a bank, carrying on a longtime affair with a married woman, while the younger fronts a godawful punk band, sleeping with the woman’s husband so he’ll put some bucks behind the act. The characters are all too mean and charmless to redeem the air of ruling-class decadence. In Spanish with subtitles.