Look here, I'm going to try to review The Texture of Falling, a movie that, in the 74 minutes that it's on screen, is certain to have you wondering what the hell is going on -- or if the filmmakers even knew themselves.
From what I could gather, this is about two couples having intense romances in the oh-so-trendy city of Portland, Oregon, their storylines weaving and twisting around each other to the point where you're usually at a loss at what's happening at any given moment. First up, we have painter Sylvia (writer-director Maria Allred), who begins a Fifty Shades of Grey-style submissive/dominant relationship with a married architect (Benjamin Farmer). Then we have Louisa (Julie Webb), a creatively blocked filmmaker -- and part-time stripper -- who has a stormy affair with a frustrated pianist (Patrick D. Green), who's also married.
Allred's fractured storytelling seems intended to make the movie a sort of puzzle that comes together at the end (spoiler alert: it so doesn't). But you'll more likely be trying to figure out if what you're witnessing is part of the narrative or some whacked-out, heavily stylized hallucination. (Allred shoots most of this film like it's a '90s perfume commercial.)
While it's obvious Allred wanted to make a possibly autobiographical, blatantly meta take on how insane young adults get when they fall in love, The Texture of Falling ends up being one baffling, infuriatingly pretentious exercise in indie filmmaking. Hell, the title alone probably makes you want to run away from it.