When it comes to arthouse films, it’s so easy for them to cross over into the dreaded territory known as pretentiousness. There’s a fine line between being avant-garde and being self-indulgent, and while there are a number of art films that can function as both engaging and avant-garde, El Verano del León Eléctrico (The Summer of the Electric Lion) unfortunately falls into the latter category.

Written and directed by Diego Céspedes, The Summer of the Electric Lion is a Chilean short film about a 17-year-old woman who struggles with the fact that she is soon to become the seventh wife of the Lion, a prophet who is allegedly capable of electrocuting anyone he touches. This short chooses to head full force into arthouse territory, and this decision results in a final product that is technical beauty but feels ploddingly paced and entirely too self-important.

One of The Summer of the Electric Lion’s strong suits lies in its cinematography. The film makes exceptional use of minimalistic framing, slow and simple camera movements, low contrast lighting, and faded colors in order to establish its gloomy tone. Each image renders the mundane and familiar looking settings with a dour stillness that communicates the 17-year-old protagonist’s unease about her upcoming marriage. It’s a beautifully moody looking film, and its look sets the atmosphere of the piece exceptionally well.

The film’s low-key, dour cinematography is matched by the cast’s understated performances. Everyone here makes use of subtlety and nuance, and while this might not be engaging for everyone, it brings an undercurrent of sadness and hopelessness to the proceedings that feels in line with the film’s visual tone. Particular praise should be given to Lan Fa Salas, whose performance as the mournful protagonist, Daniela. Over the course of the film, we watch her go from a happy teenager to the unwilling wife of the titular Lion, and her subtle and somber performance makes her stand out from the rest of the cast.

While the performances fit and the cinematography is well executed, The Summer of the Electric Lion suffers from being entirely too self-indulgent. The film feels so enamored with itself that it wants to drag everything out longer than necessary. The pace here isn’t slow, it’s sluggish, and it makes the viewer feel as though the film is dragging its heels before we finally reach the closing credits. For every scene that progresses the razor-thin plot or develops the characters, there are about four or five more that depict almost nothing of importance. Every line of dialogue—almost all of which has some throwaway reference to the Lion—is punctuated by anywhere between 10 to 20 seconds of silence before the next line is delivered. None of it feels organic. It feels self-indulgent and, at least for me, patience-testing.

The best way I can sum up The Summer of the Electric Lion is that it feels like the filmmakers don’t understand the concept of “killing your darlings.” As a tumultuous lover of arthouse cinema, I can fully say that this film just might not be for me. There’s certainly artistry behind it, but for me, it made its 22-minute runtime feel like hours.