You expect a story. As sketch, as pretext. But it does not exist. You hope a form of acting. A sketch. A try. But it does not exist. The only piece - a pool, few middle - age men, women, a pizza boy who comes so late than he seems a sort of Godot. Sure, a summer film. But the bodies are not so seductive, the dialogue is awful and the film is, certainly , too, too long. And boring. So, an enveloppe without letter.
Review of Pooltime
