In the past 40 years it is unlikely that there has ever been a less opportune time to release a big-budget movie like Kiss of the Spider Woman. Let me explain. The plot pairs a sobering (and timely) tale of government-sanctioned police violence, human rights abuses, social upheaval, gender identity and sexual fluidity with the heady glamor of a lavish 1950's musical. At its core, Kiss of the Spider Woman is both a tragic love story and a tale of redemption involving two very dissimilar men who find themselves sharing a cell in a notorious Argentine prison. Given the political evils currently infecting our own country there was sure to be some sort of pushback from the far right. Additionally, there has been an ongoing resistance to films that don't feature superheroes, supernatural serial killers or CGI animation. With that in mind, Kiss of the Spider Woman was probably never destined to be a major blockbuster. But, did anyone really expect it to bomb so badly at the box office? One thing for sure, it's not for lack of talent.
If you've read Manuel Puig's 1976 novel, seen William Hurt and Raul Julia in the 1985 Academy Award-winning film, or attended the 1993 Broadway musical, you're already aware that Kiss of the Spider Woman is not a light-hearted lark that provides its reader/viewer with kid gloves and a dunce cap. It's a smart, demanding quasi-romance tinged with pain and longing that isn't easy for everyone to digest. For those anticipating a sumptuous musical, Kiss of the Spider Woman does not disappoint--unless, that is, you're expecting the singing and dancing to continue non-stop throughout the film. The flashy, splashy numbers are performative interludes woven into the principal tale of the escalating relationship between two men trying to survive torture, humiliation and degradation as they wait out the inevitable end of Argentina's brutal military dictatorship (1976-1983).
Molina, a gay window dresser arrested for public indecency, finds himself thrust into a dingy, bare prison cell occupied by political dissident, Valentin, from whom prison guards have been attempting to extract information that will lead to the prosecution of other members of the opposition movement. The loquacious and effete Molina--obviously no stranger to these environs--comes prepared with a stack of vintage film posters, beaded bed curtains, comfy blanket and provisions ordered by his mother for this occasion. Molina talks endlessly about a film actress named Ingrid Luna as he decorates the cell and brings a small measure of vibrance to the squalor. Valentin just wishes Molina would shut up. But the more Molina elucidates on this beloved star and her most memorable movie, the more Valentin is drawn into the ridiculous (he thinks) tale. Over time, Valentin's initial hostility towards his new cell mate dissipates. Valentin doesn't really get the dynamics of queerness, but, to his credit, he doesn't feel threatened by it either. He understands that Molina copes with his status as a despised outsider by losing himself in these fantasies of the Latin movie goddess and her glamorous intrigues on the silver screen. In one sense, both men are defined by their otherness. One is a loyal foot soldier dedicated to overthrowing a brutal regime, the other a posturing queen incapable of playing by the rules of a society that loathes his very existence. Yet, if a more progressive government assumes power, and if he survives his stint in prison, Valentin knows that he will be welcomed back into his community, whereas Molina will always be the other no matter who rules the country.
The movie kicks into gear when Valentin finally starts paying attention to Molina's dramatic rendering of The Kiss of the Spider Woman, an extravagant production featuring Ingrid Luna as an alluring, independent magazine publisher named Aurora. Along with her adoring assistant, Kendall, Aurora moves from one vibrant scene to the next, as various would-be suitors try--and fail--to win her affections. In this 2025 version, the fictional movie sequences come far more frequently than they did in the 1985 film. They're also vastly more entertaining.
This scene sets us up to meet the Spider Woman, a dark succubus who must be appeased every 20 years with the sacrifice of one woman's true love--in this case, Armando. Aware that the gangster intends to kill Armando, the couple leaves Kendall behind and drives off into the jungle. However, someone has betrayed their whereabouts to the thug, and he is quickly moving in on them.
As the prison situation becomes dire. both Molina and Valentin sense that their time is almost up. Molina nurses Valentin after a particularly brutal encounter with the guards. Up to this point, Molina has--subtly--refused to share his friend's confidences with the warden. The pair realize that their relationship has evolved into something beyond mere "friendship", and things get steamy. Aside from the sex, Molina and Valentin both know that there is something else going on, something more that goes unspoken.
Later, proceeding to the climax of his story, Molina reveals the fates of those who fled into the jungle, caught between the marauding gangster and the web of the deadly Spider Woman. In the end, Molina's dreamy movie reflects his own journey with Valentin, and its, ultimately, tragic conclusion.
Kiss of the Spider Woman boasts excellent performances from its stars. Jennifer Lopez is nothing short of spectacular in the triple roles of Ingrid Luna, Aurora and The Spider Woman. Still a singing, dancing dynamo at 56, Lopez delivers what may be the best performance of her career. Leaping across tables and swirling through opulent sets, Lopez shines whenever she's onscreen. Equally good are her co-stars. Diego Luna (perhaps best known for Alfonso Cuaron's 2001 road-trip drama, Y tu mama tambien) is cast as both Valentin and the onscreen heartthrob, Armando. His Valentin feels very authentic, and, as Armando, Luna demonstrates surprisingly decent dance skills (offsetting his limited vocal range). The real revelation of the movie is a young performer I'd never heard of: Tonatiuh, who excels in the roles of Molina and Kendall. A multi-talented powerhouse, Tonatiuh is the heart and soul of the movie. His interpretation of Molina can move the hardest of hearts; for the first time that I can remember, I was almost in tears by the time the movie credits rolled.
Bill Condon, who directed Gods and Monsters, Chicago, Dreamgirls and Twilight, knows how to connect with his audience, and Kiss of the Spider Woman is as good as anything he's done. Three-quarters of film critics appear to agree but, sadly, the movie has floundered.
By design, the prison scenes seem to drag at times, especially at the beginning. Character development, background details, the whole set up requires patience that is rewarded many times over. I remember watching the Hector Babenco version of Kiss of the Spider Woman and, to be honest, I like this new film better. Incongruously, for a musical reimagining, the characters here feel more authentic, and, while tragic, the ending is still extremely powerful (and infinitely more colorful than the earlier film). And, of course, there's Jennifer Lopez proving her worth as an enduring superstar. See it on the big screen if you can, and if you can't, see it on a big screen TV when it's available. Kiss of the Spider Woman should receive multiple Oscar nominations although, given its failure at the box office, that's probably a long shot. In that case, bring on the Golden Globes.
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