Let's mention the good things first. The directors clearly have a feel for style. There are some great visuals all the way through this film, and the - mostly 70s - soundtrack matches these perfectly. However, the film is all style and no substance. In fact, it's worse than that - it's a confused mess.
The opening scenes are promising. We see Dan Kristensen, an airline passenger whose flight is landing. He has a book of matches with a woman's legs on the cover, together with the words "Table Dancing". In his taxi he looks across the street towards what appears (unfocused) to be a woman in a red-lit window space. An erotic club? A brothel? During his journey these images are intercut with monochrome images of a black woman, wearing leather, involved in some kind of bondage activity. Whether this is a dream image, a flashback, or a real-time activity elsewhere is never explained, though we later learn that the woman is Kristensen's wife.
Kristensen returns to his apartment to find his wife missing and the door chain-locked from the inside. After a smoke and a drink (or several) he goes searching for his wife. This brings him into contact with several odd individuals who all have strange stories to tell (in flashback): a sceptical detective, the old woman upstairs whose face we never see, and a naked woman on the roof.
Unfortunately, we are never given a character to care about, let alone any kind of narrative that makes sense. Interest starts to flag after about 30 minutes, and the film becomes more and more hallucinatory as it goes on. At one point, Kristensen is chasing multiple doppelgangers around his apartment and there is a gratuitous and nasty slasher sequence. Is it all a dream? Is Kristensen suffering a psychotic breakdown? Who knows? Who cares?
The opening scenes are promising. We see Dan Kristensen, an airline passenger whose flight is landing. He has a book of matches with a woman's legs on the cover, together with the words "Table Dancing". In his taxi he looks across the street towards what appears (unfocused) to be a woman in a red-lit window space. An erotic club? A brothel? During his journey these images are intercut with monochrome images of a black woman, wearing leather, involved in some kind of bondage activity. Whether this is a dream image, a flashback, or a real-time activity elsewhere is never explained, though we later learn that the woman is Kristensen's wife.
Kristensen returns to his apartment to find his wife missing and the door chain-locked from the inside. After a smoke and a drink (or several) he goes searching for his wife. This brings him into contact with several odd individuals who all have strange stories to tell (in flashback): a sceptical detective, the old woman upstairs whose face we never see, and a naked woman on the roof.
Unfortunately, we are never given a character to care about, let alone any kind of narrative that makes sense. Interest starts to flag after about 30 minutes, and the film becomes more and more hallucinatory as it goes on. At one point, Kristensen is chasing multiple doppelgangers around his apartment and there is a gratuitous and nasty slasher sequence. Is it all a dream? Is Kristensen suffering a psychotic breakdown? Who knows? Who cares?