When queer Argentine author and activist Manuel Puig published his novel “El beso de la mujer araña” in 1976, it’s doubtful he could have dreamed it would one day be turned into a musical. With most of the action taking place between two characters in a cramped prison cell, and a bleak political context casting dark shadows across even its brightest moments, it didn’t exactly seem a good fit for that kind of treatment. And besides, thanks to its open depiction of queer sexuality and the overtly revolutionary tone of its political messaging, he could barely even get it published.
A decade later, it had become a major Hollywood movie, winning an Academy Award for William Hurt; it had also caught the attention of John Kander and Fred Ebb, the composing team responsible for (among other hit musicals) “Cabaret” and “Chicago,” who joined with playwright Terrence McNally to craft an adaptation for the Broadway stage. The resulting show would debut there in 1993, winning seven Tonys and a host of other awards; Puig, sadly, did not live to see it, dying in 1990 of complications from surgery after a life lived mostly in exile over his queer activism and outspoken political beliefs.
Now, the musical incarnation of “Kiss of the Spider Woman” has finally made its way to the screen, courtesy of veteran filmmaker Bill Condon – who, besides his screen adaptations of “Dreamgirls” and “Chicago,” is also responsible for “Gods and Monsters” and the “Twilight” movie franchise – and starring Latina diva Jennifer Lopez in the title role.
For those unfamiliar with the piece, whether in its musical form or any of its earlier iterations, the story centers on the relationship between two cellmates in an Argentine prison – Valentin (Diego Luna), a revolutionary being held as a political prisoner, and Molina (Tonatiuh), a queer window dresser imprisoned for “public indecency” – with very little in common and even less to talk about. Nevertheless, a connection begins to form between them when Molina decides to pass the time between them by narrating the story of his favorite movie – a glossy old Hollywood musical romance starring his most beloved Golden Age star, Ingrid Luna (Lopez) – and Valentin is drawn in despite his disdain for Molina’s trivial interests and seeming lack of political conscience. As the days pass and Molina continues his narrative in installments, their forced cohabitation begins to deepen into an unlikely friendship – and maybe more.
Of course, there are dark secrets in play, too, hidden agendas and undisclosed truths that strain their trust between each other; nevertheless, as they continue to bond, through both the escapist fantasy of Molina’s ongoing cinematic “recap” and the harsh brutalities of their shared reality, they find an intimacy that helps them transcend their perceived differences in a place designed to crush both their humanity and their hope.
In Condon’s adaptation, the stage musical is reworked to bring it closer in tone, perhaps, to Puig’s original novel, emphasizing the contrast between the grim and colorless prison cell with the spectacular glitz and larger-than-life glamor that saturate the imagined world of Molina’s recounted movie – and it’s quite a contrast. In these sequences, “Kiss of the Spider Woman” opens up its claustrophobic setting into an elaborate recreation of glossy Hollywood escapism at its Technicolor peak, full of exquisitely staged scenes of romance, action, and Golden Age MGM-level musical choreography, which also permits the film’s two male stars to spread their creative wings even further, by casting them alongside Lopez as parallel characters in the “metafilm” fantasy where so much of the story’s emotional resonance occurs – and where many of the plot details begin to reflect their “real world” circumstances as it goes along. It’s all carried off with excellence, professionalism, and technical wizardry, and the result could easily be described as cinematic “eye candy” that’s sure to please fans of the musical genre.
Yet there’s something vaguely disappointing in the choice to differentiate the two worlds of “Spider Woman” so distinctly and completely. It creates a sense of watching two separate movies that have been spliced together, one a gritty story of oppression and survival and the other the other a wild and campy exercise in nostalgic Hollywood gloss. It’s an effective enough tactic, but what it misses is the blending that happens between the two worlds in the stage production, where fantasy and reality overlap and intertwine, and we can’t help wishing that Condon had taken a more imaginative approach, one that might have translated that magical theatricality to the screen in a uniquely cinematic way.
Still, the message comes across. The story’s deeper explorations emerge with eloquent clarity – of facing reality without sentiment or escaping it through fantasy, of bridging differences of attitude and perspective through human connection at its most basic level, and perhaps most crucially, of seeing beyond a limited understanding of sexuality and gender.
For that last point, there is no more direct reason for it than the performance of Tonatiuh. Seeing Molina embodied by a queer actor brings a level of sensitivity and truth to the mix that illuminates every other element around him. It’s a breathtaking leap toward stardom from a previously (mostly) unfamiliar performer, equally adept in the musical sequences as with the strictly dramatic material, and it elevates “Spider Woman” simply by being there.
His co-star is equally superb. Luna brings his own brand of sensitivity – and vulnerability – to Valentin; he’s also up to the demands of the musical scenes, going toe to toe with Lopez and a whole crew of dancers and seeming to enjoy every minute of it. Most important, he strikes a chemistry with Tonatiuh that makes their blossoming tenderness toward each other into the true saving grace in their character’s lives – the real world magic for which movie fantasies are only a metaphor – and lingers fondly in our memory long after the film is done.
As for Lopez, she claims the screen when she’s on it, bringing a commanding presence and a hard-working pro’s intensity to her multiple roles as Molina’s beloved actress, her character, and the sinister alter ego of the title. No, she’s not Chita Rivera (who could ever be?), but she’s more than up to the challenge of bringing her own distinct energy to make the part her own.
We can’t deny that “Spider Woman,” which began its theatrical release on Oct. 10, faces an obstacle as the screen adaptation of a popular piece of musical theater; fans of the original will doubtless have expectations going in, and opinions coming out, and there’s nothing to be done about that. While it might have benefitted from a more out-of-the-box handling of the show’s dual reality, what’s important is the purity and resonance of the queer voice that comes shining through it, not just in Tonatiuh’s soulful performance but in the movie’s essential core, and that’s worth more than enough to counter any nit-picky quibbles about its overall approach.
It may not please everyone, but thanks to its remarkable lead performances and the authenticity that illuminates both its drama and its fantasy, it’s got the kind of soft power that can stay with you forever.