Emi (2025)

As I have stated on numerous previous occasions, predictability is, in my view, the cardinal sin of effective moviemaking. If one can discern what will happen in advance, what’s the point in watching the film? Unfortunately, such is the case in the latest offering from director Ezequiel Erriquez Mena, a story so easy to figure out that its narrative can be foreseen within the first few minutes of the picture. In fact, its plot is so patently obvious that it’s almost impossible to discuss this release without giving away what’s going to occur despite all efforts at refraining from playing spoiler. Which naturally once again raises the question, if that’s the case, what’s the point of giving it a look (or, even more fundamentally, wondering why it was made in the first place)? For what it’s worth, 18-year-old Emi (Benicio Mutti Spineta), the adopted son of two loving parents (Mara Bestelli, Luis Ziembrowski), has begun having questions about his birth family, inquiries that his folks (particularly his mother) treat evasively. Yet, despite this, Emi’s questions persist, especially when clues continue to emerge, making him wonder if his suspicions will ultimately prove to be correct. In the meantime, he spends his days working as an apprentice motorcycle mechanic and hanging out with his boyfriend, Claudio (Lucas Tresca). But, when an (allegedly) unexpected event arises, long-hidden secrets threaten to surface (that is, if one somehow hasn’t already figured them out by this point). Wholesale predictability aside, though, there are several other issues that seriously burden this film. For instance, while it’s certainly gratifying to see Emi’s sexuality so readily and matter-of-factly accepted, this aspect of his story goes almost completely undeveloped (not under-developed but wholly un-developed), prompting one wonder why it was included to begin with. Then there’s the protagonist’s woeful lack of character development, making Emi appear as one of the most uninteresting 18-year-olds anyone has ever met. In fact, the development level of the film’s supporting players outstrips that of the lead by a wide margin, exposing just how boring an individual he really is. And, because so little of anything meaningful or engaging occurs in this anemically constructed tale, the picture is heavily padded just to get it to its 1:32:00 runtime. This is accomplished with protracted montages of nighttime motorcycle rides set to a passable original score, as well as mentoring sessions on the intricacies of bike repair (showing viewers much more about this subject than they probably ever wanted to know). When all of these shortcomings are considered collectively, it’s hard to fathom how this project was green-lighted. It could have readily been pared down to a film short, but, even at that, it still would have required the incorporation of material eminently more involving than what’s depicted here. Don’t waste your time on this one.