We often take for granted how difficult it was to live through the 1980s, particularly when you worked within the arts. The HIV/AIDS crisis robbed the world of so many valuable, idiosyncratic voices, people who were as creative as they were admirable, falling victim to a disease that not only ate away at their bodies but also made them representatives of a movement that took a very long time to be taken seriously, a global epidemic rather than just a disease impacting the queer community, as propaganda at the time so desperately wanted the world to believe. Ira Sachs came of age during this period, growing in his adulthood (as both a person and an artist) surrounded by people he respected and loved, many of whom lost their lives at the time. It seems like Sachs has skirted around the subject on a few occasions, exploring the lives of queer individuals as they either directly address the losses from within their community or who act as subtle allusions to a period that lingers heavily in the discourse. However, it was only now that we find him being intrepid enough to directly explore the HIV/AIDS crisis directly and make it the core foundation for a film all on its own, which comes in the form of The Man I Love, a deeply moving and unquestionably harrowing drama in which we are introduced to Jimmy George, a New York City actor who seems to be on the precipice of stardom: he is recognisable enough to lead a sold-out run at a local playhouse, but still too obscure to be fully integrated into the industry, yet he seems well on his way there. However, he has been living with the “gay cancer”, and while he has been responding well to treatments, a recent bout of ill-health that almost ended quite badly serves as a constant reminder that he is terminally ill, leading him to do whatever is possible to elongate his days and establish a legacy that will live on long after him, by any means necessary. In this film, the director pays tribute both to specific friends and colleagues he lost during the 1980s (many of whom have been named by the director over the course of the last few months, as if he understands that speaking the names of the deceased keeps their memories alive), and to an entire generation lost to a destructive disease.

While he has achieved acclaim for his contemporary films, in which he explores modern life through the eyes of a range of diverse, complex characters who represent the everyday people who surround us, Sachs has been visiting the past a bit more recently lately, which is a common occurrence for many artists as they grow older, and which is especially true for a queer filmmaker who has been steadily becoming more open about the specific subjects that he uses as the foundation for his films. The Man I Love is a very complex film in which the director addresses HIV/AIDS directly and without any ambiguity – despite it being nearly half a century since the disease first began spreading, it is still a controversial subject that many feel should remain constricted to hushed whispers behind closed doors. While there has been substantial work to provide visibility and activism, the stigma still remains, which makes the director’s almost forceful approach to not hide behind allegory or implication, but rather look at the subject from the very centre of the story, all the more powerful. However, The Man I Love is not the definitive word on the topic, nor does it aim to be. Instead, it is a single story of one man slowly succumbing to the disease, as told through the people who surround him, making his final days as fulfilling and meaningful as they can be, helping him come to terms with his own physical and mental decline, which is directly explored throughout the film. The film being about an artist makes it even more heartbreaking, since it evokes the fact that so many incredibly creative people had their lives cut short by this illness, Jimmy George being a representative for thousands of lives lost during this era- people who would’ve redefined their respective industries but instead became statistics, numbers on a page, while their work rests in near-obscurity as their memory fades. It’s certainly a layered subject, and one that is certainly not easy to depict in any singular work of art – but Sachs’ own deep passion for the topic, and his willingness to bare his soul through this simple but evocative story, helps usher in some achingly beautiful statements on the very fickle boundary that divides life and death from one another.

One of his many brilliant qualities is that Sachs often brings out the very best in his actors, which is even more impressive considering he usually casts against type, either choosing actors who don’t necessarily fit the role as written or conceived, or crafting parts for performers who are not used to playing certain characters. We find something in between these two qualities in the decision to cast Rami Malek, who has recently started to regain his more idiosyncratic charms, taking some very bold swings with the performances he delivers, much to the delight of anyone who appreciated his offbeat talents from before he meandered over to the mainstream. He’s tremendous in The Man I Love, having a complexity that we haven’t seen from him in years. Malek has always been an actor who thrives most when he’s doing something meaningful, and the part of an actor slowly watching his mind and body succumb to a disease that he knows he cannot entirely defeat, while still doing what he can to maintain his composure and the very eccentric persona he has presented to the surrounding world. It’s a brilliant performance from an actor who may be making some very bold character choices – but even when playing Jimmy at his most flamboyant, Malek refuses to veer towards caricature, which is not an easy task – and everything ultimately falls into place as the film progresses and we see the innermost details that make this character so compelling. Tom Sturridge is his eternally faithful and dutiful long-term partner who is watching the love of his life slip away in front of him, while Luther Ford (in his film debut) is simultaneously charismatic and deplorable as Jimmy’s new lover, who represents something much more exciting for a dying man trying to relive every moment of his youth through this sordid and risky affair. Smaller appearances from a range of actors (including a reunion with Rebecca Hall), plucked from both stage and screen, round out the cast of The Man I Love, which benefits massively from the empathetic and beautiful work being done by the entire ensemble, who gather to pay tribute to the people they lost to the same illness that drives this film. It’s hardly surprising that actors like Stephen Adly Guirgis and Blanka Zizka – who were active during the period depicted here – deliver such staggering performances, since they too very likely lost people, their performances (which are arguably the most compassionate in the entire film) reflecting the pain that comes when revisiting uncomfortable memories.

If we set aside the themes and characterisation (both of which are quite impeccable), something else about The Man I Love that immediately leaps out is how Sachs brings these ideas to life on screen, both visually and tonally. While he has never been positioned as a filmmaker with a particularly distinct mise-en-scène (his films are mostly well-crafted stories formed in the style of the simple independent dramas that Sachs likely learned as the in-house style when emerging as a filmmaker), it is clear that this film is perhaps his most visually stunning achievement to date, at least in terms of how he laboriously recreates the era in which it takes place. Considering the extent to which we can proclaim the film a deeply sentimental ode to the past and the generation whose memories linger in this period, it is certainly clear that Sachs was trying to achieve something much deeper, since you simply don’t put this much effort into something that doesn’t mean a great deal to you, or which you were not willing to challenge the confines of your medium in order to achieve. Everything from the grainy cinematography (Josée Deshaies deserves credit for how he makes the film look like it was found in some long-dormant archive) to the period-accurate costumes and production design immerses us in this particular moment in the past, which is nostalgic without being fawning, indicating the director’s desire to evoke an era that simply no longer exists, having perished alongside the people to whom this film is a stunning tribute. It is also quite clear that Sachs is adamant in his refusal to resort to the same overly tacky sense of melancholy that usually accompanies these films. To make a film like The Man I Love a saccharine, melodramatic bundle of heightened emotions would be an enormous disservice considering the story being told, and rather than following the expected patterns, Sachs chooses instead to focus on the intricate, character-based details, drawing emotions from authentic and meaningful places through smaller interactions that may seem subtle at first, but have a complexity that is brilliantly portrayed throughout this stunningly bold and deeply moving exploration of a group of complex people trying to work through an enormously challenging situation. It’s a masterful example of how emotions can be just as devastating when presented quietly as they are when they’re loudly proclaimed, which is all part of what makes this such a remarkable and resonant piece of filmmaking.

The Man I Love may be Sachs’ most personal film to date, and when your entire career has been built from simple, moving stories that offer intimate glimpses into the mind of complex characters, many of whom can be considered extensions of the director himself, this is quite an achievement and not one that we can easily dismiss as just being an attempt to make sense of the past. It is the perfect example of how some of the most meaningful passion projects are not expansive, overly detailed epics, but can instead take the form of a subtle, nuanced portrait of the past, told through a poignant and heartbreaking story of someone who desperately wants to live, but through the unexpected circumstances that no one could’ve predicted, finds himself handed a diagnosis that essentially tells him and the world around him that he will not be a part of it for much longer, leading to a series of poor decisions that can be explained as the only way to work through these difficult emotions. There are so many complex moving parts to this film, each scene being more challenging than the last, while still remaining stoic enough to hold our attention. The film contains a quiet, poetic beauty that we would not expect from something exploring so many complex themes, but this is just a further indication of Sachs’ extraordinary skills as a filmmaker, since to approach such a topic with nothing but empathy and deep honesty is an act of bravery all in itself. It’s not autobiographical in the traditional sense (although we can see a lot of Sachs in these younger characters, since he also watched loved ones perish during this time), but rather acts as a powerful tribute to the entire community of people who fell victim to a disease that we still struggle to discuss, since it remains both impossible to describe and comes with a stigma that is gradually disappearing, but not quite as fast as those who are crushed by the pressure to hide perhaps deserve. The Man I Love is a powerful and daunting film that tackles some very complex themes, doing so with poise and elegance, while also managing to be exceptionally raw and honest. It’s a stunning piece of filmmaking, a film that is far from easy, but carries an honesty and deep meaning that cannot be manufactured or mimicked, and can only come from a filmmaker who understands the intricate nuances that come with telling such an important story, and paying tribute to the men whose stories deserved to be told as well.