For a long time, I thought Battle in heaven was the worst film in the history of mankind, a movie that doesn't belong to the filmography of someone as talented and poetic as Carlos Reygadas, a piece of obvious, lame controversial imagery with no more depth than a sandbox full of urine. A group of non-professional actors with absolutely no direction whatsoever, who spit stupid dialogues without one single drop of emotion in their voices, who strip their bodies to feed some drunk guy's hunger for provoking audiences to hate his movie. Reygadas disappointed me to the point of madness. A boring, retarded exercise of so-called "poetic", "deep", "thought-provoking" scenes put together while on a bad acid trip. The film equivalent of a piece of poop laying over a plate of pasta inside a dumpster where a Tijuana whore with a severe case of herpes and gonorrhea lives with his Uwe Boll-loving redneck husband and their ugly, toothless children, peeing, sleeping and eating in the same place while they listen to reggaeton and wear I <3 George W. Bush t-shirts.
Well, Los muertos makes Battle in Heaven look like a masterpiece.