Stories about boyfriend stealing, backstabbing bitches should be sharp and witty, but I’ve seen dirty postcards with more passion than this. Lutz directs with what might be called minimalist sensibilities, i.e., a camera bolted to one position which grinds on for nearly six uninterrupted minutes at a clip.

Within the frame, the erotic content is so low that I started wishing that they would zoom beyond the bedroom window to something more interesting, like pigeons roosting. Sorry, Mon Cheri, but you’ve been in much better.