When a film tries to cover too much territory, it’s often doomed to failure. And such is the case with writer-director Anna Muylaert’s latest feature offering, a picture with an intriguing premise that ultimately doesn’t know where it’s trying to go or what it’s trying to say. This wildly meandering, supremely unfocused (alleged) dark comedy tells the tale of an exclusive São Paulo country club run by women that has fallen on hard times. To prop up the facility’s reputation, the club’s president (Cristina Pereira) arranges to have what she believes to be a puff piece written about it by a neophyte journalist (Rafael Vitti) (who just happens to be her grandson), accompanied by the images of a renowned photographer (Luis Miranda). On the day of the interviews for the article, the organization’s board members assemble at the club, where viewers soon learn that virtually all of them are polished but greedy, unsavory, unprincipled individuals who try to do whatever it takes to protect their reputations – and to stay out of jail. But, in the midst of all this intrigue and subterfuge, all hell breaks loose when three of the president’s pet jaguars escape from their confines at the club and begin running rampant throughout the property. This is where the film falls apart, turning silly, directionless, inconsistent and gratuitous as everyone scrambles to protect their own hides from cre…

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