Kill Me Please is a phrase I feel like I’ve used before in these reviews, but is in the case the English translation of Mate-me Por Favor, a darkly nihilistic coming-of-age drama from director  Anita Rocha da Silveira that follows Bia (Valentina Herszage) and her posse, Renata (Dora Freind), Mariana (Mariana Oliveira), and Michele (Júlia Roliz) as they navigate the challenges of growing up in Barra da Tijuca, a suburb of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil that has become the unwitting host to a serial killer targeting young girls.

The film is something of a difficult nut to crack in terms of analysis, situated between the abstract and the conventional to the point where though you have grown to understand and connect to the characters, the question of what has transpired becomes muddied and difficult to get a handle on. Perhaps that’s the point; it is a film fundamentally focused on meaning and identity growing up, and so much of that pivotal time is a frantic search for some grand narrative that makes everything make sense as relationships that should define you fizzle and contort to something uncomfortable and alien. There is a pervasive angst and cynicism, as the seemingly random brutality of the murders exists upon a backdrop of emptiness and frivolity, with the town’s youth enamored by a glitzy pop star turned preacher offering salvation you can dance to and a score that mixes sappy American R&B hits with its Brazilian counterparts.

The performances are strong, though few stand out outside of Bia’s brother João (Bernardo Marinho), a listless soul pining for the glory days of failed relationships, but the characters manage to walk the line of having strong character traits without becoming caricatures. The cinematography is subdued but effective, making use of wide shots which allow the viewer to study the social dynamics and body language of larger groups and use this to understand their relationships on a deeper level. The bright lights of the city create a captivating spectacle, especially contrasting the empty expanses and drab grey hallways of other scenes. There are some artsy shots that use blood as a visual metaphor, perhaps to explore the fragility and viscerality of life and love, though these metaphors are often as ambiguous as the narrative itself, which asks a lot of intriguing questions, but seems to have little interest in exploring, let alone answering them.

Characters live and die, relationships flourish and are snuffed out just as quickly, life goes on regardless with few of these threads seeming to tie together to form any sort of cohesive pattern, but perhaps that’s the way things are supposed to be.