In gorgeous vintage 8mm footage, shot by a home-moviemaker with an unusually keen cinematic eye, Nuria Giménez Lorang's unique docufiction is a quietly bewitching stunner.
And "quiet" is the operative word, yet, given that the film features no sync dialogue, it's amazing how chattily, playfully intimate it feels. Using onscreen-text extracts from the 1940s-1960s diaries of well-to-do socialite Vivian Barrett as she describes in intelligent, sexually and emotionally frank detail her life with her entrepreneur husband Leon, this tale of disillusioned domesticity, mid-life romance and ruthless self-analysis, is told with spectacular ingenuity. My Mexican Bretzel is a spellbinding debut – one of the very best and most woefully underseen films of the last few years – that tricks you without cheating you, dazzles you without showing off, and lies so gracefully that in every way that matters, it's absolutely truthful.