Vermo

The scouts

Time-loop parenthood angst is exactly the kind of premise that feels *designed* to be liked, and Canivell's refusal to punch harder or go weirder with the recursion actually bores me—it's sci-fi by genre tag, not by subversive intent.

Canivell's formal control of temporal collapse as metaphor for biological urgency sits elegantly within the lineage of Roeg and Tarkovsky, where abstraction serves emotional precision; the editing rhythm itself becomes the emotional architecture.

The choice to anchor the time-slip disorientation through Alba's microexpressions rather than exposition or visual effects is what carries the film—one sustained glance between loops does more work than any reset gimmick could.