The thesis, so to speak, of one of the Danish founding fathers of the Dogma 95 school, Kristian Levring: a kind of survival tale in which a busload of travellers from a broken-down airplane are driven the wrong way into the African desert in the dark, where they run out of gas at a tin-shack ghost town with nothing to offer but roofs over their heads and a storeroom of canned carrots. Nerves fray ("Who are you calling a moron, you fat fuck?"). Morale declines. And one of their number -- the heavy thinker who hopes to put a halt to the "fantastic striptease act of basic human needs" -- copies out the text of King Lear from memory and proposes some amateur theatricals to pass the time. For all the skillfulness or effortfulness of (alphabetically) Romane Bohringer, David Bradley, David Calder, Bruce Davison, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Janet McTeer, among others, the whole thing is doubtfully more interesting than staring at the minute-hand of your wristwatch. As with other films that have boasted a Dogma certificate, attention is irresistibly drawn to the filmmaking itself, and away from the sought-after "essence" of storytelling, through the sheer nonprofessionalism of it: the graininess of the video transfer, the waveriness of the camerawork, the rawness of the lighting. (2000) — Duncan Shepherd
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