With his incredibly ambitious and idea-filled new feature, Motel Destino, Brazilian director Karim Aïnouz provides his audience with a film they won’t quite know what to do with. More than anything, Motel Destino is a stylish expedition into unique ways of delivering a narrative, its characters and environments resembling little else widely seen in film circles. The substance of its story, however, is unfortunately neglected in the interest of its atmosphere, Aïnouz’s command of viewer attention quickly dwindles as he finds himself unable to construct an comprehensively engaging cinematic experience.

Motel Destino follows Heraldo (Iago Xavier), a young Brazilian man who finds himself linked to a failed assassination attempt and must take shelter wherever he can. He finds himself at the Motel Destino, a sex hotel on the outskirts of town, owned by the shifty Elias (Fábio Assunção Pinto) and managed by his wife, Dayana (Nataly Rocha). Heraldo begins work as a handyman at the motel, as he continues to evade the attention of the criminals that seek him out. The longer Heraldo spends at Motel Destino, the more complex his presence there becomes, as his illicit relationship between himself and Dayana ushers in an underbelly of deceit and power imbalance among the film’s ensemble. This tale of crime and shifting loyalty is ever-changing, and audiences are challenged to keep up with every new piece of the puzzle provided by each scene.

The most important aspect of this film is its setting, the Motel Destino is arguably a character in it of itself, existing among the cast and facilitating their cunning behaviours. The motel is a neon acropolis, every scene is defined by harsh, vibrant lighting, which washes characters in an unsettling sense of grime and secrecy. The film’s lighting is reminiscent of the work of Gasper Noé and Sean Baker, directors who are known to confine their films to relatively liminal spaces. Motel Destino is no different, characters rarely venture beyond the boundaries of the grubby hotel, which intensifies the rising tensions and conflicting interests of Heraldo and Elias. This film is a uniquely sensory experience, Aïnouz exhibits a stubborn commitment towards making viewers see and hear everything that his characters do. This results in much of the film’s runtime being underscored by the moans and grunts of various patrons behind motel doors, which has an eerie, desensitizing effect that truly places audiences in the heads of its characters. When viewers aren’t enveloped in motel’s seedy environs, however, such as during Heraldo and Dayana’s more private moments, the film’s soundscape becomes lush and aerated, prescribing their relationship with a certain sanctity that the script fails to contribute towards.

This is Motel Destino’s most glaring problem, its story is simply not of feature-length quality. As audiences familiarize themselves with Aïnouz’s vivid filmmaking style at the beginning of the film, the secondary priority of the narrative is forgivable, but eventually there starts to emerge a longing for a moment of narrative tension or character work. A fresh visual style can only take you so far, which is why the second half of Motel Destino significantly buckles under the weight of inevitable audience anticipation for something greater. The largest indication of this is the lack of attention paid towards Heraldo and Dayana’s relationship, which much of this film’s action hinges on. Audiences have no indication why these characters feel the way they do towards one another, which frankly results in a lack of investment for anything that happens to either of them. Motel Destino’s final act, which should be utterly compelling and rife with tension, unfortunately falls flat as a result of Aïnouz’s lack of attention given towards the more rudimentary aspects of his film.

Motel Destino is still worth seeing on the big screen, its lush visuals demand to be appreciated in the most complimentary environments possible, just don’t go into it expecting to be riveted by a compelling script and well-considered characters. At most, this film is an experiment into the boundaries of filmmaking, questioning whether or not a confident, driving narrative is a prerequisite for quality cinema. Although many films have successfully proved that narratives can exist in more abstract formats, those works are usually paired with a more complete and meaningful directive vision. The lack of substance in Motel Destino causes it to feel more like an art installation than a work of cinema, which might just be its appeal.

MOTEL DESTINO will screen as a part of the 72^nd edition of the Melbourne International Film Festival on the 16^th and 25^th of August.