This is the kind of movie that your probably expect to see more as a play off Broadway or in the confines of a Spanish or French autodrama. This is a disaster movie, but not one like Cloverfield or even King Kong. This is a disaster movie about romantic disasters taking place within a larger physical catastrophe. It is simultaneously formulaic and yet brilliant.
The story begins at a suburban couples gathering where eight friends are converging for their monthly brunch. It all seems to be going relatively so-so with most of them exchanging catty gossip and furtive eyerolls.
Soon, however, it becomes clear that none of the friends is in quite the relationship they think they are – some are not even the individuals they claim to be. All of this comes to a head when bombs start to go off in the distance and bodies are soon lining the streets. Something big and bad has gone down in the city. The problem is these lunatics don’t have the wherewithal to notice – or perhaps to care. About anyone. But themselves.
This is a brilliant character study in the way that taking the leads from Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm and dropping them in the middle of Lawrence of Arabia would be brilliant. There are more neuroses in this movie that can be counted, and not a single one of them is equipped to handle anything more than being snide or self-satisfied. That they should have no one but themselves in the eleventh hour of their inevitable doom is perhaps the Universe saying, “This is as good as it gets.”