The Chilean import "Bonsai" is the kind of movie you'd walk out of on an airplane - just for a change of scenery. It's the sort of arch, pseudo-intellectual picture in which the main characters talk about having read all seven volumes of Proust's "Remembrance of Things Past." Well, I'm here to tell you, I fucking hate Proust, and the only thing more soul-crushing than talking about reading "Remembrance" would be actually reading it. "Bonsai" is a literary romantic comedy that's more sexual than romantic, more detached and sardonic than genuinely amusing, and more interested in dropping literary names than exploring substantive themes. As I said of "The English Patient," it requires infinite patience for the sparest of pleasures.
