Sand Dollars

Geraldine Chaplin comes from some heavyweight stock...her career hasn't exactly lived up to the heady expectations - basically, she's a jobbing actor (with a powerful name).

Here she is - in a tiny indie - playing an aged lesbian suckerpunched into submission by a licentious, leasehold lesbian - who ridiculously said: money can't buy you love?!?!

Sex tourism is a grimy reality - for those who dwell in this murky, immoral world, the word 'love' is their defence and justification to the constant emptying of their wallets. Pay-but-play is an exchange rate that benefits both 'consensual' parties...but, leaves both, ultimately, withered and drained.

A meaty subject, definitely something to get your teeth into...so, why does this film fall flat on its face? Apart from feeling cold waves of nausea when the decrepit protagonists appear on the screen - it's boring, banal and predictable. Give me money, kiss kiss, give me more money, bang bang...bang.

Chaplin looks bizarre and mostly miserable - somewhat Pierrot-esque-ish - she has a dot or a splodge or a spot under each eye...at first we thought it was a make-up malfunction but they were there everywhere, making you want to spit on a tissue and wipe them off - seriously distracting, thoroughly annoying.

Rather than being a social comment on poverty, Sand Dollars is about good old-fashioned greed...watching 85 minutes of this deadly sin is nothing but exhausting and unexhilarating.

The directors failed to notice the need for light and shade - as well as those two blobs - and made a potentially potent story dissolve into pedestrain apathy...much like passing the destitute lying on the pavement, you look, feel and doing nothing. You will care not an iota for either of these women - surely, the point was: to care! Infuriating.

On a brighter note, the tragically under-used music was rather splendid.

Trailer...