'Burning Betrayal' movie review: Neither fire, nor steam

The only thing tying these disjointed themes together is another set of disjointed erotic scenes, with the titular betrayal failing to grab attention.

There is a lot happening in Netflix’s latest Spanish film, Burning Betrayal. There’s the abrupt ending of Babi (Giovanna Lancellotti) and Caio’s (Micael) five-year relationship.

Then there’s a money-laundering scheme that puts her in danger, and also in close proximity to a Greek god-esque judge, Marco (Leandra Lima). Running parallel is the ‘is this friendship-is this love’ equation Babi shares with her best friend and colleague Thiago (Bruno Montaleone). And, then there’s the celebration of female friendships like the one she has with Patty (Camilla de Lucas). The only thing tying these disjointed themes together is another set of disjointed erotic scenes, with the titular betrayal failing to grab attention.

The film opens with a sex scene. We realize it is all a dream, as Babi is startled by the sudden presence of her businessman fiance Caio, who cuts short an overseas trip to be in the arms of the love of his life. Then there’s a similar scene, this time in reality.

A few random frames later, Babi meets her ideal man in the courthouse where Caio is testifying in a case.

He is the judge, ‘a seeker of truth but very mysterious, and soon we see Babi starting a tempestuous relationship with him. And no points for guessing, what comes next: a whole lot of sex—in the swimming pool, near the beach, on dining tables, in the shower—even as Marco’s past catches up with him, and Babi’s life is in danger.

After a point, we see through the ruse of director Diego Freitas, who has adapted Sue Hecker’s novel of the same name. There is hardly a semblance of narrative, and the twists and turns are so flimsy that it makes us question if the protagonists even understand the concept of rational thinking. None of them, barring the one ‘good’ character that we know will turn ‘bad’, exhibit a sliver of common sense.

When the never-ending gratuitous erotica, mostly shot with an overdose of male gaze, dies down, and the makers decide to wrap up things with a premature flourish, one can’t help but glare at the blank screen thinking, “What just happened?”

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