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Filmfest’s past-bedtime showings of Between the Sheets may be an in loco parentis move: The implication is that if you bring your tweens along to E Street, you’ll spend much of the film shielding their eyes as the muscled, well-chinned Roberto and nubile Paula get it on. And on. And on. So yes, there’s a great deal of steamy, distinctly Brazilian sex. Really, though, parents should be more concerned about exposing impressionable children to the movie’s aesthetic missteps: the obvious first scene, involving a mating ritual in a Rio nightclub; the non-storyline, in which a one-night stand between a semi-married man and an about-to-be-married woman turns into a vapid, very talky love affair; the sub-telenovela production value; the interminable strip-teasing; the fact that Roberto and Paula keep laughing at their own jokes. The idea’s a fine one—a compressed, torrid relationship that progresses through a year’s worth of romance (wordless fucking; wordy awkwardness; mistrust; declaration of love; petulance; phone call from the ex) in one hotel room on one night. But the mercilessly bad dialogue and weird montages in which each character, naked, emits nauseating pronouncements about the nature of love, suggest that discerning voyeurs should skip the world’s longest lingerie commercial and go straight to RedTube.