What a horrible, irredeemable waste of celluloid. We found ourselves wishing for the boat to sink, Malkovich, Deneuve et al to be devoured by sharks. It's a shame, because the concept had potential. Unfortunately, there is no character development, no plot, and the dialogue is as hackneyed as something between a group of pompous 18-year old students with an affectation for existentialism.

To add insult to viewer injury, de Oliveira assumes the viewer has zero knowledge of the most pedestrian tourist destinations in the Mediterranean. The film is little more than a Lonely Planet guidebook for schoolchildren, with an eye-rollingly vapid dinner conversation between actors who should have known better.

Before someone sets up a Rambo strawman, the two of us who viewed this are admittedly pretentious cinema buffs. Nothing can redeem this tour de merde though. The only way I'd recommend this film would be for a group of second-year Portuguese language students, if the professor doesn't have time for a lesson plan one week.

This horrible piece of dreck belongs on Andorran Public Broadcasting on Sunday night, just after the documentary on the making of Roquefort cheese. I'd rather be hogtied in a room with the roadcrew from Queen and a jar of KY jelly mixed with sand before ever being exposed to something this wicked and satanic again.

Puke.