If there's one thing the films here in Berlin have in common (at least with most of the flicks I've watched) it is sex ... and lots of it. Just today, both films (Hallum Foe and Lost in Beijing) I saw had some pretty intense -- and well justified -- sex scenes. Yesterday, Bordertown included a steamy sex romp (you go J-Lo!), and the day before both 300 and Yella tossed in some between-the-sheets action. But I must say, out of all this sex, none of it is gratuitous.

The award for the strangest sex has to go to Hallum Foe, which features Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot) as a teenager obsessed with the recent suicide of his mother. He's collected his mother's old make-up, her old dresses, her old passport and, when he leaves home (after having sex with his stepmother!), he begins following a woman who looks just like his mother. And yes, they have sex. And yes, she digs the whole warped thing. On the flip side, Lost in Beijing (whose tagline should read: Who's Screwing Who?) featured a number of sexual trysts, all of which had a different purpose and meaning. And yes, the film (which Chinese censors threatened to chop up) was screened uncut. Lots of films. Lots of sex. Lots of stories to be told.

With that said, above you will find my final (and favorite) video diary from here at the 57th Berlin International Film Festival. In this installment, I sit down with David Hudson (GreenCine Daily), Andrew Grant (Filmbrain) and Aaron Hillis (Cinephiliac) to discuss the second half of the Berlinale, which films truly shined (Yella) and which failed to hit the mark (300). Stay tuned to Cinematical, as I have a lot of reviews to catch up on and will be posting them throughout the weekend and into next week.

(Note: Video may take a little while to load. But hang tough, it's a fun one!)

Once again, scattered boos could be heard following yet another press screening in Berlin -- this time, for the film Bordertown. Like pic's main character, some would think I'm imagining such evilness; but it is real, it is happening and it is in poor taste. If there's anything I've learned within the past 24 hours, it's that you should never be afraid to speak your mind -- to tell the truth -- no matter who awaits you on the other end, determined to bring you down. And that's exactly what journalist Lauren Fredericks (Jennifer Lopez) intends to do when she's sent to Juarez, Mexico by her Chicago Sentinel editor (Martin Sheen) to investigate a series of murders that are taking place within the small, seedy bordertown.

An opening title graphic explains that American corporations are taking advantage of the NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement) by opening large American-owned factories (or Maquiladoras) right across the border, hiring Mexicans (mainly women) to work long hours (sometimes in 24-hour shifts) for little money in order to produce mass quantity (one computer is produced every seven seconds). Some might call it "slave labor," while the American government probably just views it as a major convenience. Needless to say, for a long time now women factory workers (who often work and travel late into the night with little to no protection) are being kidnapped, raped and, in most cases, murdered. To this day, the Mexican government has done very little to try to prevent these atrocities from occurring.

I've been working on breaking my addiction to Page Six of late (hey, I've at least gotten to the stage where I can admit that I have a problem), so I missed this lil' item about Jennifer Lopez, director Gregory Nava, and a divatastic meltdown on the Mexican set of Bordertown. The rags reported that J. Lo (although, really, isn't she J, Ant now?) demanded that the low-budget production furnish her with a villa, a luxury trailer, and pay for the $10,000/day services of hairstylist Oribe. But as The Reeler points out, it's not just that "J-Lo is pissed off that Mexico is poor and dirty and that everybody laughs at her Uggs and that nobody will rent her a villa and nobody can find $10,000 a day for her hairdresser" - she's actually producing the film, which would usually (kinda? sorta?) give her the right to complain about how the budget was being spent without interference from the tabloids. Except she's trying to spend $10,000 a day on her hair, and that's totally worth making fun of under any circumstance.