Imagine a cross-pollination between Brian De Palma at his most slavishly Hitchcockian and Pedro Almodevar in his lunatic What Have I Done to Deserve This? period, and you might be prepared for Alex de la Iglesia's deranged farce set in a Madrid apartment building.
Former Almodóvar muse Carmen Maura stars as Julia, an estate agent who discovers the apartment of her dreams while showing it to prospective buyers. Hijacking the place for a romantic evening with her husband, she discovers the lottery winnings that the old man who died in the apartment above had hidden under his floorboards. She retrieves the sacks of banknotes but then has to smuggle them out of the building under the alltoowatchful eyes of the neighbours.
As her attempts to leave the building undetected become increasingly desperate, she finds herself under threat from the "community" who have been waiting years to share the loot among themselves.
From this simple premise, De la Iglesia fashions a movie of monstrous momentum; an accelerated, vivid farce that resembles an Ealing comedy fuelled by hallucinogenics.
As the grasping neighbours (one dressed as Darth Vader) pursue Julia up and down the stairs, and finally across the rooftops of Madrid, the camera swoops and soars vertiginously around them in a madcap chase that is part Harold Lloyd, part Vertigo.
The film's delirium is ultimately excessive and the allegorical conflict between socialism and capitalism is too splintered to be truly effective, but it is a wildly compelling ride for much of its length.
Maura remains one of the gamest Spanish actresses around, whether in the throes of passion with a tango instructor or clambering along the parapets with a suitcase full of money, she epitomises the accidental action heroine, without ever rescinding her sexuality, womanhood or humour.
