Nicholas Barker's cinematic journal about four desperate singles prowling the
personal ads in New York City is at once witty and deviously contrived. Most
audacious of the lot is Brenda, a voluptuous Italian bombshell who's hunting
for a sugar daddy to pay her single-mom bills in exchange for a discreet, and
infrequent, number of sexual couplings each month. Michael is a diminutive
40-year-old suffering from nice guys' disease; Aimee, a sweetly Rubens-esque
28-year-old, is also dating challenged and deathly afraid of turning 30 without
a husband. And Mikey, a pot-bellied 54-year-old screenwriter (though he's never
sold a script) who looks like a jowly Dennis Hopper and speaks in Mike Hammer
monotones, describes his apartment as a "fuck palace" and insists, time after
time, that he has, and never will date a "mutt."
Unmade Beds appears to be a documentary, but in fact it's a scripted
feature that extrapolates from its characters' real-life personalities. Barker
does capture the incandescent mystery of New York's nocturnal cityscape, and
the jazzy, New Age soundtrack accentuates the film's dark mood, but for a
staged act, Unmade Beds revels too much in the banality of its subjects
squandering drop-in-the-bucket opportunities for rife humor and sardonic wit.
--Tom Meek
Full Length Reviews
Unmade Beds 
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