Like so many screenwrites that minimize a functional plot and are based on jarring juxtapositions of elements truly extraneous to the story, (if you can find one in this film), one is left bored but befuddled. Quite a feat of genius--and then, let's throw in a kitchen sink (or two) and melodramatize the melodrama a bit further with all the kitchen sinks having sexual problems. And, as though any elegance might be wasted on the philistine masses anticipated to watch this thing, let's give the characters a good dowsing with Eau de Banal: let's say they are all in a band, and make them act so miraculously casual when confronted by each other's conceits that it seems the writer was trying hard to force accessible in ludicrous loads down watchers' throats. Doltish performances, mishandled script dynamics, and the shaky pursuit of post-modernist neo-realism all packs up together and forms a very cheesy fromage that no normal person could possibly suspend disbelief for in order to receive and swallow, and swallow, and swallow.
Review of One to Another
