Ano Bisiesto (Leap Year)

In a climate where having a ‘twist’ is almost a prerequisite to getting a film made, it’s refreshing to see a movie change shape during the course of the action rather than leaving it until the last few seconds. Beginning as a domestic drama about loneliness, Ano Bisiesto (or Leap Year) gradually morphs into something sexually dark, deviant and very, very bleak.

Journalist Laura (Monica Del Carmen) lives alone – literally and metaphorically – in her city apartment. Her contact with the outside world is virtual – everything is done via the internet, her landline or her buzzing mobile. The only face-to-face contact she has with anyone occurs in depressingly perfunctory sexual interludes with nameless strangers.

Every word she utters is a lie. Clearly unhappy in her situation, she breezily makes up tales of her friends, her close relationships with her neighbours and her gourmet meals, relating these to her family as she spoons canned food into her mouth. All of this takes place in her sparsely furnished flat – after an initial establishing shot there are no other locations in the film. It’s an excellent technique which reinforces her isolation and the seemingly inescapable nature of her predicament.

Eventually, excitement is injected into her life with the arrival of yet another lover. This one, however, requires more than instant gratification and anonymity. Instead, he reveals a masochistic streak which Laura revels in. Their sex grows increasingly explicit, extreme and even dangerous as the film moves towards a conclusion.

Laura’s enjoyment of this sexual violence seems to relate to her relationship with her father. Although only intimated, it appears that some form of abuse took place between them – not least as she seeks to commemorate his death (on 29th February) in the most sexually extreme way possible. It’s to the filmmaker’s credit that the audience is not bludgeoned with this information, leaving them to read between the lines and tune in to the film’s subtleties.

There is certainly no subtlety in the portrayal of sex in the film. Often graphic and violent, it is never sensual or erotic. Del Carmen gives an extremely physical performance – often exposing her herself both literally and emotionally. She’s in every single scene and it must have been an extremely gruelling process. Thankfully she is excellent throughout, whether conveying the desperate sadness of her character or the occasional flashes of happiness on which she hangs her hopes.

Ultimately, Ano Bisiesto is interesting and thought provoking but difficult to like - and harder to engage with than it might have been. A film so tightly focused on one character reveals surprisingly little about her and consequently it’s easy to pity Laura but hard to warm to her. The distancing techniques employed ultimately seem to slightly undermine the point being made – which is a shame.