The Five Senses Reviews

A self-consciously arty ensemble piece that's alternately exploitative, implausible and cliche ridden, writer/director Jeremy Podeswa's second feature is the kind of film that all but begs to be summed up in one word: meshugge. The story, set in Montreal, takes place over a three day period during which a child has disappeared amidst much media hoo-hah; the characters are all in some way connected to the kid, if only by virtue of living down the hall. And what a bunch they are: widowed massage therapist Ruth (Gabrielle Rose) is in dire need of some physical contact herself (hmmmmm, touch), while her daughter Rachel (Nadia Litz), high-school drop out, has a penchant for voyeurism (got it — sight). Cake decorator Rona (Mary-Louise Parker) makes beautiful pastries that are utterly flavorless (this is getting ridiculous!); her best friend Robert (Daniel MacIvor), a lonely gay guy, is convinced he can tell who really loves him by the way they smell (Aieeee!!!!). Oh, and opthamologist Richard (Philippe Volter) is going deaf: hey, hearing is all that was left; besides, isn't it ironic? To give Podeswa his due, he has a genuine ear for bitchy dialogue, and some of the conversations between Rona and Robert are very funny, in a dishy sort of way. But the rest of the movie is thoroughly bogus. One could, perhaps, forgive the half-baked psychology and underlying sexual politics as garden variety art-house pretension. But as the absurdities pile up — among other howlers, the sudden appearance of a hooker with a heart of gold and the revelation that all Rachel really wants is a boyfriend who'll dress up like Tim Curry in his ROCKY HORROR heyday — it becomes clear that any connection between this film and real life as anyone's ever lived it is, at best, tenuous.