Although “Mexico is on fire”, as Nicolás Pereda writes, the central protagonists of Minotaur are gripped with bouts of an almost narcotic slumber for his film’s full 53 minutes. There’s a hint of opiates in the air, but the only kicks we get wind of are pizza deliveries and literature. Beautifully shot in actor Gabino Rodríguez’s apartment, the comfort bubble around our three thirty-something heroes (Rodríguez, Luisa Pardo and Francisco Barreiro) is unfalteringly sustained by domestic workers who gently circumnavigate its sun-hazy, Last Year at Marienbad-like labyrinth. The triangulation of relations and bodies becomes comically sculptural as the trio communicates via sleeping positions, readings and short dialogues. Already being compared with the films of Philippe Garrel, Laida Lertxundi and Tsai Ming-liang, there’s an enchantment at work here that’s clearly Pereda’s own.