Stubborn protrusive reason flaunts a cryptic allegiance with supernatural impulses as Oriol Paulo's La Cuerpo seeks to retrieve an embattled corpse, evidently contravening its diagnosed paramortal slumber.
A corpse has disappeared.
It is sought after.
The search excavates murder.
A question of feeling, evoking, fury.
At the risk of sounding disingenuous, a clue is provided where it is least expected.
The flashback motif, used extensively, at one point proves exhausting, but it is within this kitschy exhaust that an emaciated ember balefully stows, teasing, fleecing, tormenting, breaking down dismissive pretensions in full-fledged fleeting embalmed mockery.
Endearing ending.
Slowly evolving to become something greater than the sum of its parts, La Cuerpo revels in its formal debauchery, to triumphantly emerge a ravenous satiation.
Burned.
Totally burned.
The reason.
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