A good film lingers with you after the credits end and you walk out of the cinema. A truly great film stays with you forever, settling in your memory and being recalled whenever it is required. This isn’t a description of Kiss of the Spider Woman itself, but rather the central premise of Bill Condon’s adaptation of the musical, which was in turn based on the novel by Manuel Puig (and which was also the foundation for a film that bears the same title, released over forty years ago), and which has become a foundational text in many circles. They all follow a very simple premise: Luis Molina and Valentin Arregui are prisoners, being held in an Argentine jail. The former is there for public indecency (undoubtedly having to do with the fact that he is openly homosexual in a country where it was considered taboo to express your sexuality if it wasn’t aligned with the conservative values), and the latter is a vocal revolutionary who is kept in prison to prevent him from protesting against the government. After an initially rocky first encounter, the pair prove that they are not nearly as incompatible as they imagined. In fact, they share some common ground, all of which emerges through Luis’ decision to pass the time by relaying the plot of his favourite childhood film (the titular Kiss of the Spider Woman), a lavish Hollywood production filled with colour and splendour, a stark contrast to the muted hues of their squalid prison cell. The escapism offered by Luis’ story reflects his inner desires to not only physically be free from this prison, but also to retreat from a society that simply does not understand people like him. In between these moments where they are able to mentally escape, the two protagonists find themselves struggling with their own identities and desires, which are reflected in the fantasies of the titular Spider Woman, an entity who lingers, preying on those who are most vulnerable. A film teeming with ambition, but perhaps falling slightly short of brilliance, Kiss of the Spider Woman is a solid offering from a strong director and a worthy addition to an ongoing attempt to revive the movie musical as a viable genre once again by a director wholeheartedly committed to his craft.

Many of the themes that linger throughout Kiss of the Spider Woman are very easy to recognise right from the start. The reason this story – whether we are looking at the novel, the stage musical or the two film adaptations – has proven to be so effective all relates to the fact that we can understand the idea of escaping into art. We all face hardships and challenges, and life can sometimes be unpredictable – but when all else fails, and hope is lost, cinema is the one constant. This film is not about the art of creating cinema itself, but rather the joy that comes in watching those curtains open, which act as an invitation into another world entirely. There are essentially two stories being told in this film – the first is that set within this prison, where all colour is extinguished, and hope is manufactured by those who desperately need something to keep them motivated. The second is the film-within-a-film, told through fantasy sequences where the two protagonists become the heroes of another story, witnessing the story of “La Luna” as she evades the titular Spider Woman, who represents the kind of oppression that lingers over both stories. This is a film about the transformative power of storytelling under political oppression, a physical and metaphorical prison that kept its inmates under strict control, and how these people find refuge in resistance – not only political, but also emotional rebellion. This evokes themes of identity and the art of performing, situating the entire world as a stage on which we are all actors, playing roles as we leap from scene to scene. It’s not at all subtle, but it does contribute to the underlying commentary on the act of illusion and the importance of surviving, both physically and psychologically. What makes this such a fascinating piece is the conversations around masculinity and sexuality, neither of which are particularly revolutionary, but which still take on a very distinct form throughout this film. It touches on additional themes like desire – not only sexual, but also the kind of carnal cravings for a life free from suffering and despair – and the lengths to which we will go to satisfy these urges, even if it involves constructing them within our minds. It’s a fascinating tale of liberation and humanity, told through dueling narratives in which the key differences are vital to understanding the underlying social and cultural commentary.

The central roles of Luis and Valentin are fantastic parts, and certainly highly coveted, despite not often being considered some of the strongest in musical theatre. Previous versions of Kiss of the Spider Woman have cast a range of actors, but Condon is fully committed to authenticity, choosing to enlist two of the most exciting Latino actors working in the industry today. Diego Luna is an extraordinarily reliable presence in any project, with his easygoing charm and ability to capture the inner workings of every character he plays, working brilliantly with his exceptional talents. Valentin is a more passive character, but he finds the truth beneath the surface and truly captures the spirit of a man yearning for a better world, regardless of the cost, even if it involves his own life being in danger. Conversely, the part of Luis is more dynamic, requiring someone who could play into the innate eccentricities without turning the character into a thinly-composed caricature. For this, the director conducted open auditions, with the role ultimately going to Tonatiuh, who is someone whose name we may not know (as all of his previous film and television performances were in relatively small roles), but who we’ll most certainly be seeing constantly in the future. It’s a magnificent performance from someone who has enough charisma and genuine enthusiasm to command the entire film. Oddly enough, the person on whose back this entire production was mounted is surprisingly the weakest part of it – marketed as a vehicle for someone who has been gradually trying to make a return to film acting (undoubtedly the result of her well-received performance in Hustlers), the film does its best to make use of Lopez, who is certainly committed, but not quite right for the dual roles of Ingrid Luna and the Spider Woman. She can certainly dance the role, and she does relatively well in some of the moments where it requires her to make use of her statuesque beauty and innate charm. However, she does struggle in the dramatic moments, and very gradually we find that the film doesn’t really give her the platform that it did for actors like Sônia Braga and Chita Rivera (who had played the role previously in other adaptations), feeling more like an opportunity to stunt cast rather than choosing the best person for the role. However, the effort is acknowledged, and Lopez does do some solid work – it just unfortunately doesn’t come across as entirely authentic as the film progresses. 

Condon is certainly not a newcomer, and his experience as a filmmaker shows in every frame of this film, even if it may not be as staggering an achievement as we may expect. This is less a result of his shortcomings on his part, and more the fact that this material is a bit challenging to bring to life on screen without making a couple of peculiar choices here and there. Ultimately, Kiss of the Spider Woman is two films in one, and required someone capable of handling both sides of the material – and even for the most skilled auteur, this would be a challenge, since it’s a case of extreme contrasts, with juxtaposition happening within individual scenes, which is not easy to accomplish without some work. Nevertheless, the director does what he can to carry the story as appropriately as possible. The scenes set in the real world, following Luis and Valentin as they attempt to mentally escape their prison through stories, are gritty and colourless, and while it may be a highly stylised approximation of what an Argentine prison during the Dirty War may have looked like (particularly in the fact that it is intentionally quite broad and almost a caricature of an oppressive institution), there is still some value in this exact vision. Conversely, the fictionalised segments set within the world of the film-within-a-film are where Condon’s skills shine – he’s inspired by classical Technicolour musicals, with intentionally artificial sets and colourful, lavish costumes reminding us of the works of Vincente Minnelli and Douglas Sirk, rich and evocative hues that feel plucked from our deepest fantasies. In this regard, Kiss of the Spider Woman is a resounding success, and perhaps it’s best to look at these components as the main driving force, with the other half of the story just being a framing device, used to contextualise the underlying themes. Condon is a good director, and his work here is certainly solid enough to pay sufficient tribute to the material. While someone with a more unique vision may have been able to make something quite different and perhaps more exuberant, this version is still strong enough to hold our attention for the most part, even if it can sometimes feel slightly limited.

While it may not be particularly great and a far cry from Condon’s strongest work, Kiss of the Spider Woman is a film with a lot of value, even if it can take some time to fully appreciate it. Ultimately, we can always benefit from filmmakers taking bold swings, and Condon is the rare example of someone who is primarily a journeyman director but who is capable of swinging for the fences, succeeding in many ways, even if the results may not be entirely what we expected. Maximalism as a form of artistic expression is constantly disappearing from film, and something like this proves that there is always going to be space for works that take some risks, granted they are calculated and make sense. This film presents a relatively decent middle ground – it certainly has enough ambition and spirit to earn our respect, but it does falter in some areas where a more skilful, original filmmaker may have found a more interesting approach, which is unfortunately something that happens when material is handled by a competent but not particularly exciting filmmaker. Condon is consistent enough to make a film that hits all the right notes and delivers a thrilling story as far as possible, but he also doesn’t seem to realise all the potential lingering beneath the surface. Mercifully, this is mostly salvaged by the excellent work done by Tonatiuh and Luna – the former is well on his way to stardom, the latter continuing to develop his skills and become one of the most consistently exciting actors working today. It’s a very entertaining film, and while it may occasionally veer towards the obvious, and perhaps should be more appropriately considered an intentionally excessive piece, there is very little doubt that it is enthralling enough to hold our attention, being a worthy adaptation of the musical, even if it isn’t the most unique.