Repetition is the theme—but that doesn’t make it any less wearing. The Other Way Around circles its central relationship with a doggedness that borders on stubborn, replaying conversations, edits, and awkward silences until the point has not so much landed as settled in for a long stay. The first hour in particular feels overstretched, and while the emotional drift between the characters is convincingly played, the pacing strains that credibility.
There’s also a tendency to shout about its cinematic pedigree—references to Bergman, Truffaut, and company arrive with the regularity of someone reciting their Criterion shelf. It starts to feel more like a checklist than a conversation.
The film eventually turns in on itself: Ale is editing her new film, which turns out to be the one we’re watching. It’s a clever structural twist, though a little too pleased with itself. Meta is fine; meaningful meta is harder. It’s not without its grace notes, but much of it plays like a first draft someone forgot to trim.