THE STORY – Valentín, a political prisoner, shares a cell with Molina, a window dresser convicted of public indecency. The two form an unlikely bond as Molina recounts the plot of a Hollywood musical starring his favorite silver screen diva, Ingrid Luna.
THE CAST – Diego Luna, Tonatiuh, Jennifer Lopez, Bruno Bichir, Josefina Scaglione & Aline Mayagoitia
THE TEAM – Bill Condon (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 128 Minutes
Bill Condon is hard director to pin down. He’s dabbled in horror and its adjacencies (“Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh,” “The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part 1“ and “Part 2“), thrillers (“The Fifth Estate” & “The Good Liar“), and period dramas (“Gods and Monsters,” “Kinsey” & “Mr. Holmes”). But like any true lover of the most fabulous art form, he always comes back to musicals. After penning the screenplay to the smash hit “Chicago,” he’s placed himself behind the camera for the big screen versions of “Dreamgirls,” “Beauty and the Beast,“ and now, “Kiss of the Spider Woman.“ The 1993 stage musical (based on the same 1976 book that inspired the 1985 Oscar-winning film) that serves as the source material for this film was brought to Broadway by an all-star team, including director Harold Prince, writer Terrence McNally, and the legendary songwriting team John Kander and Fred Ebb (“Cabaret,” “Chicago,“ and many others), not to mention a trio of actors who all won Tony Awards for their performances: Brent Carver, Anthony Crivello, and the greatest triple threat to ever grand jeté across a Broadway stage, Chita Rivera.
On paper, it seems like the perfect musical to turn into (or rather, back into) a movie. Its structure practically begs to be expanded by the abilities of cinema. Indeed, the central character, Luis Molina (Tonatiuh), escapes his miserable life inside a prison in 1980s Argentina by imagining song and dance numbers from his favorite movie: the 1950s musical, “Kiss of the Spider Woman.“ It stars Ingrid Luna (Jennifer Lopez), the requisite diva that Molina has imprinted on, as all queer people do. He entertains his cellmate, political prisoner Valentin Arregui (Diego Luna), with his vivid recountings of movie scenes, which helps to both pass the time and distract them from their situation. But Molina has been given a secret mission by the authorities to try and extract revolutionary intel from Valentin in exchange for a potential shortening of his sentence.
With the musical sequences, Condon adopts a method that worked exceptionally well with his film version of “Chicago.” Every number takes place inside Molina’s mind, whether it be a reenactment of an Ingrid Luna song or a hallucination. This means that a good handful of songs from the stage show have been cut, including all of the ones sung by Molina and Valentin in the prison itself. (Diego Luna sings only briefly during a movie-within-the-movie pas de deux with JLo.) This means that some of the musical’s best songs are missing, including Molina’s introductory tune, “Dressing Them Up,“ and Valentin’s stirring revolutionary anthem, “The Day After That.“ But this surely tough editing decision keeps the movie going at a buoyant pace. With about ten songs packed into a two-hour runtime, it doesn’t have the problem faced by more bloated movie musicals like “Wicked,“ where the length of time between musical numbers becomes interminable.
And whenever the cast breaks into song, the movie explodes with life. Lopez is sensational, giving a performance that’s almost entirely song and dance. She moves with vivacity, and vocally, she sounds better than she has since her single “Waiting for Tonight“ was released over a quarter of a century ago. The high point of both her work and the film in general is the showstopping production number, “Where You Are.“ Sergio Trujillo’s choreography during this song (and throughout the film, assembled with the aid of co-choreographer Brandon Bieber) is lively, intricate, and exciting, perfectly tuned to Lopez’s abilities. It’s the musical number that closest approaches the highs of “Chicago,“ and it’s sure to become a staple in homosexual living rooms the second it gets on YouTube. Lopez also absolutely crushes the eleven o’clock number, “Kiss of the Spider Woman,“ showing a darker, frighteningly seductive side, purring her way through the melody before its eruptive conclusion. The film is at its best whenever she’s on-screen; she gives the kind of musical performance that sends you to the thesaurus for additional adjectives.
Condon and the entire creative team clearly did their homework when putting together the musical sequences, with obvious homages to classics such as “Singin’ in the Rain“ and “Summer Stock.“ The colors are bold enough to test a TV, and most of the dance numbers are shot in wide, long takes, allowing the audience to see the full bodies of the dancers (something most modern musicals could stand to adopt). “Singers who move“ need not apply; there’s nowhere to hide from Condon’s camera. The only downside to such exhaustingly researched and recreated pastiche is that it invites more severe comparisons to the art that it’s paying homage to. As such, it’s frustrating that the numbers achieve something like 80% accuracy rather than feeling totally authentic. Little things like dancers’ feet placement, cinematographic composition choices, and the very quality of the sleek digital image itself distract those who really understand the throwback references. It’s the kind of nitty-gritty critique that a film with such resources and knowledge behind the camera can’t escape, although it’s not likely to bother most viewers.
However, all praise should go to the designers who put these fantasy worlds together. Scott Chambliss’s sets feel appropriately false in that fabulous Old Hollywood way. The villainous Spider Woman’s lair, for one, looks as if William Castle was allowed to direct a Technicolor musical. And the costumes by Colleen Atwood and Christine Cantella are simply fabulous. In the musical sequences, everyone is outfitted so vibrantly that it’s as if they’re showing off color as a new film technique. But Lopez is, smartly, always outfitted in the splashiest costumes. One of her dance outfits – a black number with a fringe skirt – is particularly striking and makes her character stand out appropriately. After all, Ingrid Luna has to feel like a star worthy of Molina’s stan-like affection.
As Ingrid’s biggest fan, Tonatiuh shines. He’s supremely charismatic, winning the audience’s hearts in a way that makes the film’s ending deeply impactful and downright chilling. Molina casts himself (and Valentin) in “Kiss of the Spider Woman“ as he retells it, which gives Tonatiuh the chance to show off his beautiful singing voice and effortless dance skills. He also completely sells the unlikely bond that he and Valentin form, which is to the film’s benefit, as Diego Luna is far less compelling. Luna’s is a mostly reactionary character, but the few times he takes charge of the screen aren’t nearly as commanding as Lopez’s or Tonatiuh’s. Valentin’s biggest moment, where he recounts a political rally turned massacre attended by himself and his sister, just doesn’t have the emotional impact that’s intended. It should be the highlight of Luna’s performance, and instead, it feels strangely underplayed. In fact, most of the scenes set in the prison have the unfortunate effect of feeling like something the film simply has to work through to get to the musical numbers, which is a shame considering that those are the scenes that further the larger plot.
Before Molina begins telling the story of their favorite musical, Valentin interrupts by saying, “Nobody sings in real life,” to which Molina responds, “Well, maybe they should.“ And indeed, that could sum up Bill Condon’s “Kiss of the Spider Woman.“ The director clearly has the most affection for the musical sequences, as that’s when the film truly comes alive. When the songs play out in glorious color and movement, they provide a joy that can be found, as the finale says, “Only in the movies.”
