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Affluent and aimless, Conrad Valmont lives a life of leisure in his parent';s prestigious Manhattan Hotel. In the span of one week, he finds himself evicted, disinherited, and... in love.
It takes effort to turn a movie with a cast as appealing as the one in "The Longest Week" into a grating exercise in narcissism, but writer and director Peter Glanz proves up to the task.
Lacking any significant character arc or motivation, The Longest Week is little more than a series of insipid conversations between bored aristocrats who snark at each other in monotone.
It's clearly the work not of a lazy thief, but of a raw talent who's still struggling to find his own voice. In the meantime, his impressions are pretty darn impressive.
Throughout the film, the writing is heady but heartless, as if Glanz means to occupy the intellectual high ground by exploiting tired romantic clichés and passing off his finger pointing as evidence of self-righteousness.
Not even the able actors that Glanz somehow managed to rope into his project can do much with the draggy story and the vapid characters that they have been given to play.