Despite having made several well-received films over a few decades (with only Frankie being a complete misfire), Ira Sachs remains relatively underpraised as a filmmaker. He’s developed enough of a reputation to be seen as someone who makes films of a certain quality but has yet to receive much due outside of those who are already attuned to contemporary independent cinema. However, it would seem like this is a situation that suits Sachs perfectly, since he comes across as a director who enjoys this sense of independence, since it allows him to make films that are intimate, personal and offbeat, which would be more difficult with a mainstream Hollywood production, which would not suit him as much as these quaint, heartfelt dramas that have defined his career. He travels from the gorgeous landscapes of Sintra in his previous film to the charming streets of contemporary Paris for Passages, in which he explores the marriage between Tomas and Martin, a film director and painter respectively who find their relationship under strain when the former decides that he is going to experiment with his sexuality, leading him to start a relationship with a woman, much to his husband’s chagrin and despair. A simple but very charming film that goes in many different directions but remains true to its fundamental ideas, Passages represents perhaps the biggest claim Sachs has had to be one of the most essential voices of his generation so far, which is certainly not something that has ever been debated but rather tends to be proven with every new endeavour, this representing all of his greatest and most interesting ideas, which are presented with such extraordinary detail and profound honesty, it is staggering to imagine that he remains relatively under-praised as a filmmaker.

The stories to which Sachs normally gravitated usually have a few common elements – they mostly circle queer issues (although this is not entirely mandatory, since he has made a couple of films where the subject is either not the focus or not part of the story at all), and they look at the daily lives of ordinary people facing a variety of moral dilemmas and existential crisis, which blur together to create a feeling of angst and confusion, from which there is seemingly very little escape without directly addressing the root of the problems. These are the ideas with which he has most consistently constructed his films, and Passages feels like perhaps the most concise examination of these feelings of anxiety and bewilderment. As one of the most profoundly gifted queer filmmakers working at the present moment, Sachs has made a name for himself through his direct approach to difficult subjects, and this film continues this trend by looking at slightly more challenging material. Considering a lot of contemporary films focused on gay relationships tend to veer towards a happy ending, it is intriguing to see a film about a long-time couple who find themselves at odds, teetering on the verge of collapsing, all because of a crisis of identity that calls their commitment to one another into question. Passages is a forthright examination of sexuality and the fluidity of identity, and it’s fascinating to see a film that doesn’t form itself around binary identities, instead developing into a layered and deeply moving exploration of how our internal monologue can change on a whim, but even through such striking revelations, there is still some element of social and philosophical decorum that needs to be followed, which is where this film makes some remarkable statements in looking at the shifting relationship between two men that come to realise their marriage was not meant to last.

Sachs has always had a talent for not only writing great characters but also populating his films with the perfect actors who are tasked with bringing these individuals to life. Whether writing for someone specific or simply constructing a character broad enough that a range of different actors could bring their interpretation and make it memorable, he has always had a gift for character development. Passages is another example of Sachs working with an entirely new cast (since he doesn’t often have much crossover between films – there are a few actors that appear across two or more films, but they never come across as being his muses), which makes it seem like he was constantly challenging himself to create new characters, rather than relying on the techniques previous actors would bring to the film. Franz Rogowski is steadily rising to become an auteur darling, dominating the arthouse in a way that is quite staggering – not many actors have been so uniformly praised as representing the future of cinema quite as much as Rogowski, especially because he is not known for playing particularly heroic or valiant characters, but rather skirting around the edges of playing more complex characters that don’t immediately earn our sympathy. He is willing to take on the part of Tomas, who is a truly awful man who has little regard for the feelings of those around him, and there is never a moment where we are asked (either through Sachs’ writing or Rogowski’s performance) to feel sympathy for this character. Similarly, Ben Whishaw (another incredible actor) takes the role of Martin, the more bearable of the two characters, and rather than making him the fay, brokenhearted victim, the film treats him as a profoundly complex character, a man who may pretend like this entire world is falling apart as a result of his husband’s infidelity, but who was secretly hoping for the marriage to fall apart, since it was a stagnant relationship in which they were simply going through the motions. Both leads are extraordinary and bring such nuance and complexity to the roles, and Sachs treats them with such affection, despite them both playing quite challenging, unconventional roles.

Passages is a film in which the most profound statements exist in the smallest moments – the strongest messages often emerge in silence, where the internal difficulties of these characters emerge. There are arguments in this film, and Sachs is not opposed to showing the thornier side of a declining marriage, but the vast majority of this film takes place through more intimate moments, and we soon discover that the reason the story strikes such a chord is that it is going in search of something more universal, which is clear through the quiet, complex filmmaking that intends to present as realistic an image of this relationship as possible. Sachs has many terrific ideas, and he develops them into something quite engaging and profoundly moving, which tends to carry the most meaning since it never feels compelled to go too far or develop itself beyond what is necessary. He blends comedy and drama in masterful ways, infusing many scenes with a charming sense of humour, but never resorting to mocking or deriding these characters (even if Tomas is one of the most profoundly unlikable protagonists of the past decade), nor does it trivialize these characters and their experiences, which could have very easily been subjected to brutal judgment by the director, who instead chooses to approach this story with compassion and heartfelt honesty, knowing that he is representing a side of the community that is not always defined by saintly behaviour, but yet are still worth some degree of kindness, since identity is never fluid, and therefore nor can our understanding of reality, which can shift and become more challenging the further we plunge ourselves into its depths.

Expertly navigating the tonal boundaries with precision, Passages is the perfect combination of comedy and tragedy, formed into a stunning examination of a couple as they try and salvage the final vestiges of their failing marriage, being aware that this is a relationship that is not going to work, but yet they cannot bring themselves to make the fatal blow that ends it for good. It’s a complex film with many intriguing ideas, and Sachs’ ability to effortlessly weave his way through the trials and tribulations of this relationship, which takes the form of a series of encounters between various characters as they come to terms with these major changes, leads to a compelling examination of desire and identity, showing them as being far from binary, and instead existing primarily on a spectrum, which becomes starkly different the further we allow ourselves to be enamoured with these characters and what they represent. Captivating, compelling and always moving in a way we may not always expect, the film is a deeply intriguing look into the lives of two people who fall out of love but are not quite ready to definitively walk away from one another. It isn’t afraid to portray its protagonists as profoundly unlikable people, and we often find that the film works best when it avoids overt tenderness and instead focuses on the jagged edges of this marriage (even the scenes of sexual intimacy are quite callous and harsh, rather than romantic), which is holding on by the thinnest of threads. Passages is not always an easy film, but it has many terrific ideas and a strong sense of direction that is always quite captivating, with Sachs’ approach to these ideas being concise and thoroughly meaningful, even when it can be quite uncomfortable – but considering how we have countless queer romances that lead to a more positive conclusion, having one that is slightly more morally and conceptually ambigious is a remarkable change of pace.