A Fantastic Woman (Una
mujer fantástica)
(Chile/Germany/Spain/USA, 104
min.)
Dir. Sebastían Lelio, Writ. Sebastían
Lelio, Gonzalo Maza
Starring: Daniela Vega,
Francisco Reyes, Luis Genecco, Aline Küppenheim, Nicholás
Saavedra
 |
| Daniela Vega in A Fantastic Woman |
Is Sebastían Lelio the new Pedro Almódovar?
The Chilean director already met the Spanish auteur by giving praise to older
women in 2013’s festival hit Gloria, but
he matches the master filmmaker’s intoxicating visual sense and sensitivity to
queer stories with the outstanding new drama A Fantastic Woman. The film, produced by various hands behind Jackie, Spotlight and Toni Erdmann,
is a worthy nominee for Best Foreign Language Film at this year’s Oscars and
its Almódovar-esque
passion is bound to satiate film buffs hungry for another hit from the Spanish
director. The film proves Lelio to be one of international art cinema’s next
auteurs.
Whatever praises one heaps upon Lelio, however, one must give equal credit to the film’s leading lady, Daniela Vega. She owns the screen with the fiery passion that Carmen Maura and Penélope Cruz bring to an Almódovar film and Lelio knows how to frame her with a similarly beguiling sensuality. The film notably gives a one-woman show to Vega in this character study of a transwoman in Santiago mourning the sudden death of her lover. Vega gives one of the year’s breakout performances, not simply for advances in onscreen self-representation, but for dramatic passion. It’s a firecracker of a performance.
Vega takes centre stage when the
unexpected death of Marina’s boyfriend, Orlando (Francisco Reyes), spirals into
a traumatic chain of events. The police at the hospital are wary of the bruises
on Orlando’s body (he fell down the stairs) and seem more suspicious of the
nature of their relationship. They insist on calling Marina by “his” legal
name, Daniel, and circle around questions about the sex trade and the dynamic
between her and Orlando. There are insinuations of perversity. An investigator
with the sexual crimes unit violates Marina for her own pleasure. It’s nasty
business.
Matters become worse when
Orlando’s son, Bruno (Nicholás Saavedra), and ex-wife, Sonia (Aline
Küppenheim),
enter the picture. They are understandably uneasy with Marina given that
Orlando left them for her, but these are not progressive people. They forbid
Marina from coming to Orlando’s wake or funeral and kick her out of the
apartment into which Orlando welcomed her shortly before his death. Beyond the
emotional damage and manipulation, Orlando’s family retaliates with physical
assault and abhorrent verbal abuse. Inappropriate questions about what’s
between Marina’s legs, for example, take pleasure in violating her. They speak
to her like a freak, a “thing,” and not like a person who shared love with
someone they loved as well. Sonia calls her a “chimera” – a hybrid beat from
mythology. Only Orlando’s brother (Luis Genecco) shows any sympathy—or
awareness of Marina’s gender and identity—but even he’s bashfully awkward in
her presence.
Marina shakes off the abuse as
best as she can and Vega remains resolutely confident and focused. Determined
to say farewell to Orlando, Marina sticks to her principles. This clearly isn’t
the first time she’s encountered such hostility and discrimination from
close-minded people. But, more importantly, the toxicity of Orlando’s family
doesn’t hamper her memory of him.
Lelio treats Marina and Vega with
respect and dignity. A Fantastic Woman
doesn’t depict Marina as either “special” or “tragic.” She’s just Marina and
the film gives her an empowering show of agency.
A Fantastic Woman’s intoxicating visual style continually invites audiences
to look at Marina head-on and consider the full spectrums of womanhood and
femininity. Lelio frequently frames Vega in close-up portraits that offer a
direct gaze into the camera. These images present Marina through a broad range
of androgyny. She might have her make-up on and her hair stylishly coiffed, or her
face might be unadorned with her hair back to let her jawline jut out a little
more into the frame, but Lelio consistently frames her for what she is: a human
being. Vega bravely lets the director use her face and curves for aesthetics
that go beyond visual pleasure. Each composition defies stereotypes.
Even when Lelio stages the most
flamboyant moments of A Fantastic Woman,
he challenges one to observe Marina’s lifestyle and behaviour and see it as
anything but empowering. Any fans of Paulina García’s finale in Gloria in which she embraces middle age
and unreservedly decides to dance like nobody’s watching will be instantly won
over by a sequence in which Marina descends upon the Santiago nightlife in
search of release following Orlando’s death. She owns the dancefloor in a
number of hypnotic entrancement in which Lelio lets her be out, flamboyant, and
in control. As she leads a chorus of sexy dancers in a number that rivals
García’s brave solo, Vega floats above the action and holds the camera in an
enraptured stare: this is what it means to be human and to need to feel alive
while overcoming pain.
Lelio uses mirrors to emphasize
the power of images and reflection, while an entrancing score by Nani García
and Matthew Herbert offers a whirlwind of flutes and strings that recall the
hypnotic spiral of Vertigo as Marina
probes the abyss left by her lover’s death. A
Fantastic Woman, like the best of the early Almódovar films, fabulously
plays with genre and style to create a world that is uniquely its own. Above
all, though, the film is a showcase for Vega and she is simply fantastic.
A Fantastic Woman played for members at
TIFF Lightbox on Jan. 25.
It
opens Feb. 9.
