If the ambition is to provide two hours of instantly forgettable, popcorn-munching escapism, it succeeds.

If you're interested in the topic at hand, you should just watch it and judge yourself because the reviews have gone very biased by people that didn't even watch it and just hate (or love) the creator. I liked it, it was well written, narrated, and directed and it was about a topic that interests me.

A terrific literary drama and character piece that shows how the process of creating art can be seen differently by those doing it and those looking at it from the outside.

The joyful confection is coated in a sparkly gloss, bright enough to gleam from the darkest, most cynical corners.

Overall, I enjoyed this film and would recommend it to indie film lovers.However, I really want to note the similarities between parts of this film and Nichols' Closer. One scene especially where Adrian Grenier's character is questioning Rosario Dawson's about her sex life while he was away is remarkably similar to the scene in Closer where Clive Owen's character is questioning Julia Roberts, although it is acted with less harshness and intensity in "Love." Also note that "Anna" is the name of both Dawson's and Roberts' character. Can't be coincidence. Now Closer is based on Patrick Marber's play and supposedly this film is loosely based on Arthur Schnitzler's "Reigen" so I'm not sure how this connection formed.Anyone have an idea?

This movie is best watched late at night (if you can stay awake). It is 90 minutes long where the first 85 minutes are an odd and eerie sequence of scenes that seem to transfer from one character to the next in what appear to be chronological order. Then in the last 5 minutes the movie's point unfolds, and you're left with an interesting puzzle that may make you want to see it again: was the movie forward chronological, reverse chronological, disconnected, or an endless paradox that is broken in the "end", which is were the movie began? Makes me wonder if the title is a riddle, too. The first 5 minutes is also important, if you're trying to close the loop.

I kind of enjoyed it until I nodded out on it. The structure is that of a skin flick. Characters are linked as in La Ronde or The Leopard Man. We meet Jill Hennesy, who is a class act, no doubt about it, and isn't getting along with her husband, and so makes it with a plumber or something. (Don't worry. The sex isn't explicit and there is no nudity.) It's marvelous, though, to see Jill Hennesy, the modelesque and feminist lawyer on "Law and Order" asking some surprisingly sensitive goon who is trying to help her hang up a painting to do her a favor -- "Make love to me." Okay. She finds her husband, some kind of art dealer, not interested in her sexually. (!) She kisses him and tells him, "I'm horny," and he walks silently away and turns on his favorite jazz piano record, while she turns on every noisy appliance in their high-end apartment.So why (you ask) is the husband indifferent to her charms? What's the matter with him. Is he gay? Well -- yes. Or rather bisexual, I suppose, since he married her in the first place. But hubby's real interest is in Steve Buscemi, an artist, and he comes on to Buscemi in a rather assertive manner and tries to kiss him. I don't know why. Buscemi is a great actor and a delight to see on the screen but, my God, he's got the canines of a vampire. Buscemi gently tells him, "I'm not gay." But then there is a love scene between them. I can't tell how explicit this was because I was covering my eyes and having an attack of homosexual anxiety.Fortunately the next episode, involving Buscemi and Rosario Dawson, was enough to reassure me about my gender identity. Is there a greater constitutional puzzle than Rosario Dawson? Most people, at a glance, would classify her as African-American and yet she's a salad of racial genes, no more biologically "black" than "white" or "Hispanic". Something similar holds for people of mixed race like Halle Berrie and Mariah Carey. If you took all the genes of all the humans in the world and put them into a blender they would come out looking like these actresses (only more ordinary). They only belong to one or another racial classification because they -- and we -- say they do. This is known as "the social construction of reality." Now I'd like you all the read Berger and Luckman because there will be a quiz.Next episode: Dawson has some sort of confrontation with her handsome white boyfriend. "We have to talk about this," she says. (I'm not making that up.) It was about this point in the movie that eurythmic breathing set in.Anyway, you get the picture. One sexual episode leads to another, just as in a skin flick, except that here there is no nudity and any coitus we witness is simulated. In other words, in this movie, the emphasis is on the interludes between sexual encounters. And what are they like? They're like Woody Allen, that's what they're like. Ordinary little people doing ordinary little things that have to do with relationships. When Jill Hennesy and the picture-hanger are looking through a kitchen drawer for a hammer, they find there is no hammer. But Hennesy takes out one irrelevant item after another and dangles it before him? A box of staples. "No good?"And at the bottom of the drawer, one of those flat plastic containers from a Chinese restaurant that everyone seems to save. "Soy sauce," says the plumber.If it hand't been on TV at such a late hour I would probably have watched it through, although the ordinary little people, on screen or in real life, can be a little dull at time. Will Rosario Dawson reject Buscemi's appeal to let him paint her? I really didn't care except for the vague hope that we'd discover whether Rosario Dawson's figure was as mouthwatering as the rest of her.An unambitious movie, but nice New York locations, and the acting is quite good really. It's Hennesy's best role at any rate.

As a fan of such films as "Mulholland Drive," "Memento," and "Before the Rain," I have a predilection for films which require one to piece together clues within the plot in order to distinguish true happenings from false. Initially, "Love in the Time of Money," did not strike me as this type of film, however while driving home, the words of Carol Kane's eccentric pig-tailed telephone clairvoyant came back to me. Kane's character was suggesting that perhaps in another dimension everything is changed by something so simple as a traffic light changing color a half-second earlier. This sensibility is the essence of Mattei's film, which follows the stories of interconnected people who unknowingly affect the fate of each succeeding character. The question which the film leaves one with is: How much of this story really happened?There is a beautiful scene between Carol Kane, as an aged flamboyant clairvoyant who falls for the young urban Adonis, Adrien Grenier. Notable performances are also given by Steve Buscemi, who plays a struggling modern artist with quiet restraint, and by the gorgeous Rosario Dawson, who plays the conflicted muse of two men.