i like my poster haha
In a motel room that is as hot and clammy as the jungle painted on its walls, an Ecstasy-fueled threesome has been arranged to take place. Except the two men who did the planning are officers from the Central Narcotics Bureau, and the third is their suspect, who is going to show up with the drugs at any moment.
One of the officers is garrulous and relaxed; for him, this is a job just like any other. His partner, on the other hand, is preoccupied and tense, and is increasingly restless as the wait for the suspect lengthens – it is apparent he has something infinitely more personal at stake.
In what appears to be a routine crackdown operation, what walls will come tumbling down, and which thresholds will be crossed? In the film’s oppressive tropical swelter, how can we know with absolute certainty that everything we see is not a mirage from a fragmenting mind?
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