There are multiple movies inside Domingo González's My Fault (aka, Culpa Mía), and none of them are even remotely gripping or interesting. On the one hand, you have this Teen Movie where characters go to parties and look at hot girls and guys. On another, you have a masochistic thing where bare-chested men obtain joy from violent activities. Roll the dice, and you will see the movie experiencing cargasms through Fast and Furious-type car races/chases. Keep inspecting, and you will come across another facet concerning incest.
Amidst all this mess, there is also a psychological thriller where a daughter is haunted by a sinister figure and traumatic events. It's possible that while watching this overstuffed movie, you might forget about other things, like that little girl suffering from some health complications. I don't even remember her name, but that's alright. Even the film doesn't seem much fascinated by itself. González, after all, has not directed anyone or anything. He has just put everything on autopilot. He merely creates an illusion of liveliness by making the scenes walk briskly. They get out of our sight before we can grow restless and inattentive. Yet, that doesn't cover up the fact that My Fault is half-baked and silly. Don't make the mistake of investing yourself in the characters, subplots, or plot points. You will only set yourself up for disappointment, and the movie, too, will blame you by saying, "Your fault, not mine."
To grasp how dumb My Fault is, consider the scene where Nick (Gabriel Guevara) asks Noah (Nicole Wallace) to wait inside a car while he goes to grab a friend who can drive her home. What does Nick actually end up doing? He texts that friend and starts making out with a girl. Really? A text? Why didn't Nick have a face-to-face conversation with that friend? Nick is referred to as stupid or something earlier, but I hadn't anticipated that this boy would turn out to be so dumb.
Moreover, Nick gets vexed with Noah when she races a creepy man, Ronnie (Fran Berenguer), as if it's all her fault. Unfortunately, this insanity is the whole point of My Fault. It purposefully makes nonsensical choices to keep the plot in motion. As a result, the characters end up contradicting themselves. For instance, Nick comes up with a rule that he and Noah should stay away from each other. In the next scene, both of them canoodle in the swimming pool. The intention must have been to convey how these lovers cannot remain apart. However, what we actually feel is this, "I shouldn't have clicked on the play button. My fault."
Nick is a guy who does not mind kissing strange girls but gets exasperated if a boy touches the girl of his choice (Noah is that girl in this case). Throughout the film's 1 hour and 57 minutes runtime, Nick's muscular body is used as a distraction to keep us from criticizing his toxic possessiveness. My Fault could have used its length to tell a complete story, but like most movies nowadays, it sets itself up for a sequel. I groaned and wished the film had employed its imbecilic intelligence to focus only on the relationship between Nick and Noah instead of taking detours toward other areas.
Everything besides the incestuous romance seems superfluous and is shoehorned into the movie to extend the runtime. Guevara and Wallace fervently submit themselves to the material. They supply eroticism to the story, which is why the film might appeal to those who simply want to watch two bodies wiggle in bed or swimming pool. Also, if you find poetry in lines like, "Kiss me until I turn eighteen," or "You don't need kisses, you need volcano in your mouth," you might derive pleasure from My Fault. Others will probably wonder about things like why Nick is considered the life of the party. He just kisses random girls. So what? But then, one shouldn't ask too many questions during My Fault because something like this is made to offer "guilty pleasure." The motto here is simple: Let the actors move their lips while you keep yours sealed.
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