Cosmos

Nonstop, epistemological slapstick.

At times astonishingly beautiful. The closing credits sequence alone is lovelier than some entire movies.

Confined to a few locations and shaking with ecstasy, possibility and the torment of being alive, "Cosmos" is like absinthe distilled secretly in a prison cell.

It is possible to appreciate Mr. Zulawski's perverse ingenuity, and to miss his eye and voice, without quite succumbing to the strenuous charms and overcooked provocations of "Cosmos."

It's a surreal piece of mischief, equal parts breezy fun and maddening confusion.

From the hold-music smooth-jazz score to the overtly theatrical performances, everything about Cosmos is designed to confound.

A movie that, like the book, ends but doesn't quite concludes. Some ambiguity and the possibility of giving different ends to reality and to fiction are imposed. And the bewilderment, of course. [Full review in Spanish]

It's tricky not to be ensnared by the beguiling yet intriguing nature of it all.

[An] intellectually playful and slyly subversive treatise on communication, freedom, identity and chaos that pays homage to a range of literary and cinematic influences, including Wojciech Has, Jacques Rivette and Luis Buñuel.

Cultists can claim it as proof Żuławski was doing his own thing until the end, but the film didn't need releasing so much as sectioning for public safety.

Parodying the whodunit and the country house farce, this gleefully deranged romp is undeniably a head-scratcher. But it's also bold, witty and rewarding.