That's really all one can compare this film with. One of those verbal slices of life that no one really listens to unless trapped in a moving car on a transcontinental highway about a hundred miles outside Albuquerque.
Not that it's entirely boring. The script and direction are coherent, and the viewer can certainly identify with the main character as another poor schmoe who's been run over by life, with no way out. In a way, it elicits a positive reaction because Rulo, the fiftyish and overweight protagonist, never seems to lose spirit as he suffers one telling blow after another.
As with many other recent films coming out of post-fascist South America, it is moreover revealing of the intense personal struggles these basically European people have faced as time continues to run against them in terms of their general redundancy within the context of a world economy.
In a word, sad. But I would watch it again if only to find those small connections with a more universal meaning, like how important it is personally not to give up against great odds. For all his problems, Rulo still possesses the love of his friends, his family, and his sweetheart.
