My Sex Life... or How I Got Into an Argument

I don't know who could have thought that a three-hour relationship drama would work and still sustain its intensity throughout the entire running time, but since it wasn't Ingmar Bergman, the movie didn't turn out as expected. All the interesting plotlines are drowned in unbearable length and tediousness. The main problem with the script, however, is that it fails to capture the right moment to slow down or speed up and does the exact opposite. Uninteresting exchanges are stretched far beyond the breaking point, while thoughts and actions that deserve explanation or elaboration are quickly dismissed, and the story moves on to the next peripeteia of the main character. This is where the second crucial problem lies. How can I even try to sympathize with a first-class weakling and coward who betrays the girls who love him, runs from one to the next, and always after a few dozen minutes comes to a halt and starts reciting a depressing monologue tantamount to "Nobody loves me"? Besides, he cannot seem to learn from his mistakes and further emphasizes his position as a weakling in one of the few truly captivating scenes at the end, when he completely suppresses his pride and begs over the phone for one of his femme fatales to tell him that their efforts in the relationship were worth something. But I couldn't care less about Paul by then, and if this story is based on the screenwriter's autobiographical experiences (which seems to be the case in several places), I wouldn't even want to meet him. It would have been enough to straightforwardly shift My Sex Life... or How I Got into an Argument several steps forward in time and let the audience wonder how the relationships of the main characters have changed, instead of getting stuck in the same circles. (02/09/2007)