It was perfect weather yesterday to spend an afternoon in the cinema as the grey skies which had threatened to wreak havoc since morning finally gave way to an almighty downpour which readily drenched the South Bank. Any cosy feeling I had momentarily felt clutching a warm coffee in the dry confines of NFT2 was instantly shattered once the screening of Michael Rowe's Año bisiesto [Leap Year] had gotten underway.

Approaching middle-age and living alone, Laura (Monica Del Carmen) yearns for a partner - evident from her wistful glances at the couple across the courtyard who are seemingly always cuddling or embracing. When Laura isn't staring at a calendar with the 29th of February ominously circled in red ink, she's conducting an endless stream of reckless one night stands which, as they increase in frequency, escalate from experimenting with tame fetishes to role-playing in graphic homicidal fantasies that culminate in her trying to persuade a particularly sadistic lover to enact a 'fantasy' where he will knife her to death and then 'ejaculate in [her] corpse'.

Whilst the film proudly exhibits moderately explicit sex scenes and delves into subject matter that traditionally belongs in Chris Tookey's nightmares, its impact is lessened in direct correlation to Rowe's attempts to keep upping the anti. As a result, character development and plausible motivation are sacrificed in aid of effect and shock value. Once Laura has agreed to yet another submissive sexual act where her lover urinates on her, it regrettably comes as little surprise when, in a separate scene, the same man, cigarette dangling from mouth in the foreground, turns to Laura and proceeds to burn her breasts with the scalding embers.

This is Michael Rowe's debut feature, a fact that is betrayed by the film's academic approach to its subject. However, there are impressive elements to the film. Initially, Laura is an interesting figure who is fiercely loyal to her family despite suggestions that there has been some form of parental abuse in the past. Nor is Laura a mere push over. In many of the scenes she is compliant with the most extreme acts though it is obvious this behaviour is helping to quell darker needs. Monica del Carmen puts in an admirable performance, managing to elicit sympathy without becoming pitiful. Del Carmen should also be commended for agreeing to partake in uncomfortable and demeaning situations, not to mention permitting the director and cameraman to capture her from uncomplimentary angles and in desperately unflattering natural light.

Leaving the auditorium I was struck by the close resemblances between Leap Year and last year' critically acclaimed Dogtooth; both are based around a contrived concept; feature unconventional sexual relationships; have a clinical aesthetic; are located in a confined setting (you only see Laura outside of her apartment once in the entire duration of Leap Year); and both threaten to reach a violent crescendo. However, whilst Dogtooth succeded in purposefully encouraging the viewer's continual detachment from its characters, Leap Year's reluctance to provoke more than a cheap gasp eventually isolates the audience and leaves little room to cae about its protagonist who gets lost amidst the choking, pissing and killing. Unlike Laura the audience weren't begging for more - they were calling out for a safe word.