The cast of quirkily beautiful, delicate-looking actors was excellently appropriate (despite an uncanny Kenneth Branagh lookalike), with Najwa Nimri (pop singer and composer) and Fele Martínez looking like doomed waifish fairies in the lead roles of Ana and Otto. The perspective of the narration switches abruptly from Otto to Ana and back again during the course of the film, yet this is not done to confuse, and each change is accompanied by a chapter-like title. As you might expect from any self-respecting Spanish arthouse picture, just the right amounts of magic-realism and steamy sensuality tint the angsty fatalism, tempering the reminders of the constant proximity of death, and of how easily we can lose life through a moment of inattentiveness.
Lovers is a sexy, scary, and even occasionally funny film. There is ridiculous hope and coincidence, and a simultaneous lack of them. The finale is a race toward something which we know will not happen, because desired too all-consumingly. Therein lies a message for us all.