Some kind of napping for sure: The line between rigor and tedium is crossed in this Madrid-set home-invasion thriller, captured in a dozen or so claustrophobic shots but impoverished as a piece of drama. The Eastern European thugs are thoroughly clich, as is the moment when they turn their gaze to a ripe 18-year-old daughter. It all seems targeted at fans of Michael Haneke---not of his mature Cach or The White Ribbon, but 1997's extremely similar Funny Games, a provocation that, it must be said, has already been made twice by Haneke himself.
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