In Brasília 18%, Olavo Bilac (Carlos Alberto Riccelli), a well-known coroner mourning his recently-deceased wife, is flown from Los Angeles to Brasilia in order to speak the final, authoritative word on a suspected murder. Just before the plane touches down, it climbs steeply and abruptly, which terrifies Bilac. Suddenly, in place of the stewardess who has been forced by the climb to sit down next to him, there appears a nude blonde woman -- his dead wife -- who comforts him, and tells him not to be afraid. This is not the last naked, imaginary woman we will see, though her appearance is by far the most logical.

One the plane safely lands in Brasilia, Bilac is greeted by his sister and her husband, a government functionary who is responsible for Bilac's presence in Brazil. His only task is to confirm the identity of a body, widely assumed to be that of Eugenia Camara (Karine Carvalho), a clever, possibly wildly promiscuous young government aide who had reportedly been asking unwelcome questions about the budget. It is believed that her jealous boyfriend killed her after seeing her take part in a night of wild sex with strangers, and the powers-that-be would very much like this to the official finding.

Nothing Bilac ever does supports the unimpeachable reputation that led his brother-in-law to call him. In fact, he does very little over the course of the film, and says even less. His one proactive choice is to refuse to sign off on the report that identifies the body as Eugenia's, but this seems to be due more to the fact that he's infatuated with her than the actual identity of the body. Convinced that she's alive, Bilac begins seeing Eugenia, first in the morgue (where, yes, she's nude), then in his hotel shower and, later, his bed. She's either in hiding, and has risked discovery just to have sex with a nondescript, much older stranger, or he's living a very rich fantasy life -- it's never entirely clear which is true.

In addition to his fascination with Eugenia, Bilac is also busy being the object of a very aggressive congresswoman's affections (her name, Georgesand Romero, is easily the cleverest thing about the film). Romero's father is a major player in the government, and the two of them stand to lose a nicely structured pipeline of illegal, or at least misdirected funds if Eugenia's questions are made public, so it is in both of their interests that Bilac declare her dead. The implication that Romero is so eagerly pursuing and servicing the expressionless, totally unresponsive coroner at the urging of her father and party is almost as repulsive as the endless parade of exposed breasts, and just as absurd.

Though Brasília 18% is being sold as a thriller, it's almost entirely without suspense. The fact of government corruption is revealed immediately, and there are never enough specifics or danger to make the audience care about its consequences. Bilac, the film's central character, is laughably boring. Throughout the film he does virtually nothing but throw messages labeled "Urgent!" away, have sex with inexplicably willing (and possibly imaginary) women, and befriend a good-hearted prostitute. While our tendency is initially to cut the movie some slack -- it is, after all, in the narrative competition of a festival that considers itself an increasingly major player -- eventually we stop being blinded by its subtitles and false, festival-imposed status and reach the inescapable conclusion that, were Brasília 18% an American film (A test for any foreign film that you suspect might not be very good: Imagine Kevin Costner as the middle-aged male lead. Is it funny? In a bad way? There you go.) with American actors, we wouldn't even be giving it the time of day.