Secuestro express

Jakubowicz's direction is assured except in the film's final moments, when he makes a clumsy attempt at sociopolitical philosophy that is delivered by an omniscient narrator. It's an indulgence that threatens to undercut the ferocity that precedes it.

This is pulp with smarts and a social conscience.

Illuminating as to the reality of being a victim of crime in a dangerous society but not exactly absorbing entertainment.

Exploits the epidemic of kidnapping in Venezuela without offering solutions or insight--only sophomoric platitudes. Jakubowicz's talents as a filmmaker are many, but crafting an articulate, well-examined social theory isn't among them.

Jakubowicz successfully portrays a country corrupted beyond repair by financial inequality. But the sadism that drives the story is so gleefully nasty, it overshadows any rational arguments he's trying to make.

Too often, though, Jakubowicz falls back on his relentlessly pirouetting DV camera, attention-deficient editing and ear-splitting sound effects as a substitute for real tension, or a more piercing inquiry into the bubbling tension between South America's haves and its poverty-stricken have-nots.

Writer-director Jonathan Jakubowicz does his best Quentin Tarantino impersonation, loading the film with percussively profane dialogue, smug adolescent nihilism, rampant drug use, pop-culture references, homophobic invective, and empty stylistic excess.