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Sure, it's nice to enter a room with your significant other, see a clean and crisp bed, and know that you're going to bang upon it until it falls apart like a sandwich with slippery lettuce, but unmade beds are special. You can see that they've been slept in or screwed upon by another human, the topography of the pillows and sheets tell you how and where they move, their scents stick to the cotton: these things are private, personal, and thrilling when you have the chance to observe them.
All of that is sort of an overly complicated way of saying that "Unmade Beds" sure chose a nice title for their film about the collision of many young minds and bodies in modern London. You get a hint of the sexual stuff that lies within--namely these innocent and affectionate bits of sexual exploration by Deborah Francois and Katia Winter--and you're confronted by the movie's willingness to present people as they are. People are more like unmade beds than made beds.
· "Unmade Beds" (imdb.com)