By the time Haugerud has finished exploring his story’s every aspect, you feel as if you’ve been treated to a modern, romantic Rashomon without the bloodshed and the fancy dress.

Dreams is written in anger, which however righteous it may be, pushes the film down the narrowest lane of inevitability.

After a season of high-minded movies about the redemptive power of art, there's something bracing about Franco's ruthlessly unsentimental view of the ecosystem in which artists and their benefactors operate.

While it could have been an erotic thriller about a MILF and her foreign ephebe, 'Dreams' rejects the tropes of the subgenre...[Full review in Spanish]