It’s difficult not to mention … Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction in relation to a surprising and intense debut work from Mexico, dripping blood, grotesque fun and existential melancholy in equal parts, equipped with a crazy and breathtaking narrative rhythm … The plot is intricate and tortuous and even if the scene of a horrific car crash returns at various moments to provide a focal point of sorts, like in Pulp Fiction, the characters interconnect with one another by happenstance and absolute temporal randomness. These relationships only become clear at the end, but that’s of little importance: we’re not concerned about the workings and intricacies of the narrative construction. Again, like with Tarantino’s diner scene, the opening sequence catapults us in medias res, straight into the frenetic action: a highspeed car chase, a dog pumping blood on the rear seat, a violent collision at an intersection …. Against such a desolate backdrop, investigated with ferocious, crushing realism by a camera that delivers us a boiling Mexico City resembling one of the circles of hell, death – the real hidden protagonist of the film – plays the role of a merciful yet relentless social leveller … This pool of social tragedy appears unavoidable, everyone is drowning in it, some more than others, and the dogs, like Cerberus, are beasts that have been sent down to guard the entrance to hell and ensure that no one escapes their destiny. An apocalyptic vision of a chaotic and unfathomable third world megalopolis … This hardness of Inarritu’s taps into the most intimate essence of life, its crux, and at a visual level the gamble pays off wonderfully. The visceral impact of the various moments and fragments that merge brilliantly with the frenetic rhythm of the whole is like a wave, a Mexican wave capable of engulfing everything at any moment.

Emanuela Martini, “Cineforum”, no. 396, July 2000