<\/strong>Spider Woman <\/em>is an adaptation of a novel by Manuel Puig, which was set during the Argentinian dictatorial regime. (The novel was also adapted into a musical by John Kander and Fred Ebb; a cinematic adaptation of that show will be released later this year.) It charts the developing relationship between two cellmates imprisoned by the Brazilian military dictatorship. Valent\u00edn (Ra\u00fal Juli\u00e1) is a political prisoner. He bides his time staring out of narrow bars, trying to see which of his friends is being tortured, and wondering when it will be his turn again. Molina (William Hurt), a gay window dresser, is serving a sentence for \u201ccorrupting a minor.\u201d He copes with prison life through escapism. To pass the time, he narrates the plot of one of his favorite films, a romance about a devastatingly gorgeous French nightclub singer. (A black-and-white recreation of the movie accompanies his narration.) Valent\u00edn is his reluctant audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At first, the men could not be more different. Valent\u00edn finds Molina\u2019s elaborate fantasies superficial: \u201cYour life is as trivial as your movies,\u201d he says. Indeed, Molina is so politically ignorant that he doesn\u2019t realize that his beloved movie is a Nazi propaganda film about occupied France. He can\u2019t understand why Valent\u00edn\u2019s political commitments mean he must refuse even the meagerest pleasures. But through exchanges both nasty and nice, the pair comes to understand each other better. Valent\u00edn realizes that Molina\u2019s decision to live an openly queer life is itself a powerful act of resistance. Molina\u2019s right to live without persecution is part of Valent\u00edn\u2019s struggle for the dignity of all his countrymen. And, in Molina, Valent\u00edn finds a sympathetic ear for his fears and vulnerabilities. He has the human contradictions of any revolutionary (mainly his longing for his bourgeois ex-girlfriend), and doesn\u2019t want to die a martyr. Molina\u2019s nonjudgmental nature draws them into an unlikely, and unexpectedly romantic, friendship. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Most of Spider Woman<\/em> is two-handed scenes between Valen\u00edn and Molina as they\u2019re confined to their cell. They rest on the two principal performances and their chemistry. Hurt\u2019s Molina is utterly captivating. It\u2019s always tricky to rewatch performances like these; today, we would (hopefully) not cast a straight cis actor in the role. Hurt won the Oscar, the BAFTA, and Best Actor at Cannes, and that feels tricky too, as if playing a queer character is, in and of itself, worthy of accolades. (Part of the problem lies in the character: Molina is the kind of tragic, nobly long-suffering figure that was one of the only models for positive queer representation in mainstream culture.) In retrospect, not all of it works: Molina\u2019s slinky gait and effete quips feel like an ill-fitting cloak. But everything beneath burns incandescently. While Molina has secrets of his own, he possesses a radical humanity. <\/strong>The character\u2019s subjugation has made him wise about human nature; despite this subjugation, he has remained warm and open to the world. These facets of his personality emerge unexpectedly but with a disarming lucidity. This decency, too, is a kind of resistance that Valent\u00edn gradually comes to appreciate. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Juli\u00e0\u2019s Valent\u00edn is the subtler role, but also challenging. He begins as an outright homophobe who, on one occasion, erupts into violence. Juli\u00e1 doesn\u2019t shy away from this ugliness; there\u2019s a flinty aspect to his demeanor that reflects the uncompromising personality of the revolutionary. He plays the role with an ease that belies a deep gravitas. His initial contempt for Molina is prickly and unnervingly sharp. It makes him seem small, but Juli\u00e0 doesn\u2019t tip into outright villainy. The respect he develops for Molina is profound, and all the more powerful for being unadorned and straightforward. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The growing, unconventional intimacy that develops between the two men is not one of\u00a0cuddly \u201chugs and learning.\u201d <\/strong>The two men stumble towards each other via the everyday indignities and occasional small <\/strong>pleasures of prison life. Molina\u2019s brave candor and Valent\u00edn\u2019s growing tenderness are small flashes that gradually build into something more, something that avoids clich\u00e9. This, too, is a little tricky: is the film trying to communicate something about the unpredictability of desire, or is it avoiding anything overtly queer that might squick out an \u201880s audience? In any event, it\u2019s a bond that feels true and truly moving. While a story like this can never have a happy ending, the personal is political and this, too, is resistance.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n Despite the claustrophobic gloom of its prison setting, Spider Woman <\/em>is oddly colorful and visually imaginative. Cinematographer Rodolfo S\u00e1nchez picks up flashes of pastels and neons. Rather than constantly reflecting the monotony of confinement, Molina and Valent\u00edn are framed in varied and inventive styles, as if reflecting the many ways they connect with one another. The depictions of Molina\u2019s film are visually gorgeous, if dramatically overwrought; an apt realization of his particular brand of escapism. It\u2019s dazzling and imperfect and ephemeral\u2014fitting images for a world where pleasure must be snatched and savored.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Kiss of the Spider Woman” is streaming on the Criterion Channel<\/a> and HBO Max<\/a>. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/kiss2-1024x554.png\")
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