Ay-yi-yi! Dios Mio! This gargantuanly graceless joke of a motion picture makes Latinos look worse than a marathon of those old Speedy Gonzalez cartoons narrated by Charo. If you weren't for building a wall along the southern boarder of the U.S., you will be after watching Carlita's Secret. Watching the lovely and talented Eva Longoria in this excremental epic is like seeing a baby swallow a diamond ring and having to wait for it to come out the other end. You could genetically increase the intelligence of an aardvark, give him the cast of the Jersey Shore to work with, a budget so cheap it could pay half the cost of a hand job from a hook-handed crack whore and your super-aardvark STILL couldn't make movie as bad as this one.
Before I even bother with the plot, let me make a few things clear. Outside of Miss Longoria, the actors here don't have enough collective talent to fill up a flea's thimble. I have seen episodes of "Cheaters" that were better directed than this. If you hit someone in the head repeatedly with a rusty metal truncheon and transcribed the sounds they made after every blow, you'd have better dialog than what is spoken here. The set design makes the cheapest tellanovella look like an Oscar winner. There is choreography here so awful it makes Dancing With The Stars look like the Bolshoi Ballet. And the soundtrack
oh, merciful heavens, the soundtrack! Not only is it bad enough to make your ears tear themselves off your head to get away from it, not only it is so loud you care barely hear what any character is saying, not only is it so constant that it feels like you're trapped in some drug-addled teen rave, but it's chock full of awesomely inappropriate rap songs. Over and over does Carlita's Secret try to reach a dramatic high point, only for some rapper throwing the F-word around like confetti to obliterate even the best intentions of these colossal filmmaking failures.
The story concerns a young woman named Carlita (Eva Longoria) and her drug-dealing boyfriend Angel (Alain Mora). He brings her along on a deal that goes bad, leading to Carlita taking shelter with another drug dealer and his bi-curious wife. Things jump forward 8 years and Carlita is now a famous night club dancer named Lexus, having adopted the name to hide her identity from both the criminals betrayed by her old boyfriend and from the cops. How being a famous dancer is supposed to fit in with the whole "hiding" stuff is something never considered during production of this debacle. Things start to go wrong for Carlita when the betrayed criminals come sniffing around along with a police detective I call Not Seth MacFarlane because that's exactly what he looks like. There's also another young woman who teams up with Carlita and the movie spends an inordinate amount of time trying to confuse the audience about her agenda, even though a mollusk would figure out the character the second she reappears on screen.
That's all the plot I'm going to get into because thinking about is making me want to go to the bathroom. Suffice it to say that there are some people in this world who should never try to tell a story and I think most of them worked on Carlita's Secret.
This manifestation of incompetent cinema is so breathtakingly frightful that, by the end, it even manages to make Miss Longoria's bosom look bad. This is as poorly made as anything I've ever seen. Eva Longoria could get buck naked and make out with Felicity Huffman, Teri Hatcher, Marcia Cross and Harriet Sansom Harris and that wouldn't Carlita's Secret worth renting. If you think this is any good, you should be ejected from the solar system.
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