This is a provocative work of science fiction to which no one can remain indifferent. The first thing that becomes apparent is how much texture the film has, everything in it feels palpable. The sound brings us closer to the image and it is as if we are in a kind of virtual reality. To begin with, the experience is almost like a trip into outer space through the gaze of the camera.

The intimate way that these shots are filmed — the details, the slow-moving camera, the minimalist setting, sounds that are as gradual as the camera — all add to a feeling of transcendence.

This is science fiction that goes beyond cliché: the minimalist aesthetic stands in contrast to the visual patterns of science fiction, while at the same time giving us the impression that we are trapped and constrained to that experience.

The work may provoke various questions about the boundaries of humanity and what it is like to live under our own rules and forms of justice — or the absence of all of that. This could be suffocating for more sensitive views, but one thing is for sure: none will remain indifferent.

Minimalism, experimentation and technology combine in an atmosphere of horror/suspense, a horror also in the sense of the spectacle and our most absurd desires.

The film is highly sensorial. Images and sound blend with all of the senses, it feels like you can touch certain scenes, while others really seem to give a sensation of smell or something more. The language of the film breaks taboos, and one of its most provocative scenes is of female masturbation, with a lot of naked skin — skin that features as an element of this spectacle and performance and is present in other scenes throughout the film, which presents female pleasure as a wild desire while also placing women in a position of autonomy and power over their decisions.

The way in which sexuality is portrayed is heavy with critique, making it clear that the film was directed by a woman. Another very relevant question raised by the film is a critique of the obligation to have children, and the lack of freedom to choose. The scene featuring a performance of breastfeeding is evidently a critique of the sexist and capitalist belief that the vagina exists to serve the uterus, the uterus exists to serve the breasts, and all these organs exist to serve men. Yet this is not an accessible kind of cinema: the film uses many codes and symbolism — and, if there are moments that are difficult to interpret, we do best by simply opening up our senses to them.

The decision to rupture the timeline, through the editing of the film and the technology of science fiction, creates a puzzle that viewers will find difficult to unravel. Thus, we are better off opening our minds and allowing the film to solve itself.

These visual arrangements that blend performance, installation and science fiction seem intended to disorientate us — this film disrupts traditional notions of narrative and is not interested in meeting the expectations of its viewers.

Its images alone give us a spectacle of the senses that runs the gamut from horror to comfort.