Four unappealing mini-dramas about happiness, pleasure, sorrow, and love.

Ah, January, hallowed dustbin for projects half-baked, too cooked, or both, as in the case of this overstuffed actioner.

With any luck, The Air I Breathe should be the last gasp of the faux-Altmanesque school of serendipitous storytelling.

It’s particularly frustrating to watch Whittaker, the strongest thespian of the bunch, desperately mine for gold in a narrative landslide.

[Jieho] doesn't know what to do with actors, however, and the film's impressive ensemble is wasted.

Ignore all of that foolishness and watch the collision of emotions The Air I Breathe provides -- it is enough all by itself to leave you breathless.

For rock-bottom nasty, with no social relevance, there is The Air I Breathe, a load of amateurish bilge so silly I thought I was watching a screening at Comedy Central.

aforitis dithenias ki ysterikis fotoskiasis spondyloto drama gia ti zoi, to sympan, kai ola ayta, opoy tesseris istories periplekontai me tin haraktiristiki, anamenomena problepsimi apithanotita toy eidoys, gia na ftiaksoyn me to zori, tin hrysi pleksoyda

A breathtakingly bad Altman rip-off that seems like a wholly unintentional parody of multi-narrative films.