Kiss of the Spider Woman

Kiss of the Spider Woman is astounding. If you aren't a musical fan, will you be in hell? Probably. But for those who enjoy a sweeping musical story, or for lovers of Old Hollywood, you'll be in Heaven for the next two hours.

Earlier incarnations of this story had activism as the end goal, Valentin for his principles and Molina for his new friend. Condon is more focused on their humanity. Caring for each other makes this bleak world worth fighting for. Without joy, we’re already in chains.

Alternately terrific and tepid, Bill Condon’s swirl of song, dance and Technicolor keeps the musical alive on screen with the help of Jennifer Lopez, a star who can hold the camera and bend it to her will.

Molina’s main stage might be a dull, claustrophobic prison cell, but Tonatiuh’s performance is vibrant technicolor.

Kiss of the Spider Woman is yet another decent adaptation, but even Condon's visual panache and scale can’t quite elevate this story to greatness.

For a musical so dedicated to celebrating and critiquing the transformative potential of cinematic fantasy, Bill Condon’s Kiss of the Spider Woman brings relatively little of the kind of overwhelming star power that can truly transport audiences.

The effort is strenuous; all 128 minutes of it. But it’s almost as exhausting to watch as it must have been to make.

It’s difficult to even begin to articulate just how deeply I was moved by Bill Condon’s heaven-sent decision to finally bring the subtext of Kiss of the Spider Woman fully into the light. By presenting Molina as a trans woman—someone continually fighting to assert her identity in a world that responds only with violent misrecognition—Condon doesn’t just modernize the narrative; he honors its emotional core in a way that feels both urgent and revelatory.Nowhere is this more powerful than in the reimagined “Only in the Movies” finale. Molina, fully made up, no longer forced into the tuxedo of the original Broadway staging, but radiant in a gown that affirms her truth—only to have the song’s final lines altered to the correct pronoun: "her name was Molina." By that point, I was near-hyperventilating with sobs. It’s not just brilliant adaptation—it’s liberation through art. Every choice Condon makes here feels not only justified, but essential. I’m still reeling from the sheer impact of it **** production, too, is nothing short of sublime. Tobias A. Schliessler’s dual-toned cinematography finds aching beauty in contrast; Brian A. Kates edits with the grace and rhythm of a seasoned dancer; and the costuming by Colleen Atwood and Christine L. Cantella is pure alchemy—two jaw-dropping pieces of which I was thrilled to see up close at the Lincoln Square AMC! Add to that the Technicolor fantasia of Scott Chambliss and Andrew Baseman’s miraculous set design, and you have a world that doesn’t just support the story—it **** performances are equally magnificent. Tonatiuh is a revelation—what a find!—and Diego Luna delivers work of immense sensitivity and gravitas. But at the center of it all is, of course, Jennifer Lopez, giving the supernova performance of her career. It’s nothing short of astonishing to witness her in this triple-threat role, soaring as a singer, dancer, and actress. This is Lopez at the peak of her powers, and it’s a privilege to behold.Endless bravos to the entire team. That they accomplished something this emotionally rich, this visually resplendent, under the constraints of an independent budget and lightning-fast shooting schedule? Simply astonishing. I already can't wait to return and be undone by it all over again.

Diego Luna plays a political prisoner in 80s Argentina who’s joined by a new cellmate, an effeminate homosexual (played by Tonatiuh). As he relates the plot of his favorite movie, they begin to connect. This is the 2nd time that this musical has been brought to the screen. This time Bill Condon is directing and there’s no denying that he knows how to stage gorgeous musicals. When the story transitions into the fantasy, Condon’s creation echoes the Old Hollywood big studio production numbers with beautiful sets, lovely costumes and flashy choreography. Those moments are anchored by a blonde Jennifer Lopez, who’s magnetic in the role. When it’s just the two men in their cell, things are more squalid, but their relationship holds sway. Both actors do a fine job. The balance between the worlds loses some of emotional momentum when it bounces back and forth, but the duo’s final scenes are the film’s most affecting.

Punishing people for their beliefs is wrong, isn't it? It would be unfair to say I didn’t like it, because I don’t hate it or reject it. But I ran into the same issue I had with the original version: exhaustion. I start the film in a good mood, awake, energized, coffee beside me, genuinely wanting to engage with what it’s offering. In fact, the opening scenes do manage to pull me in. But as it goes on, everything gradually starts to feel heavy. The pacing eventually overwhelms me, and that same sense of drowsiness I felt with the previous film comes creeping back. The biggest problem lies in the musical aspect. A huge portion of the runtime unfolds through songs, and I simply disconnect from it. The musical sequences pass in front of me without sparking any real interest. They don’t move me or immerse me in the experience. And when such a large part of the film’s soul depends on that element, I inevitably stop caring. I also struggle to become fully invested in the story itself, which should matter because the film isn’t just about love. It also revolves around the fall of Argentina’s 1983 regime, political repression, and the need to love even when doing so becomes dangerous. I should feel involved in the conflict, emotionally attached to that struggle, ready to embrace the film’s message. But it never happens. I remain on the outside looking in. I understand the discourse, I sympathize with its intentions, and I even agree with them, yet emotionally it never truly hits me. There’s also an entire layer of symbolism surrounding the Spider Woman that I never fully understand, and honestly, I don’t feel compelled to. I hear ideas like “sacrifice,” “love,” and “liberation,” but everything else feels like one endless metaphor about cinema and fantasy. I know there are deeper interpretations hidden beneath the surface, but the movie never awakens enough curiosity in me to explore them. The saddest part of watching this is seeing how a community can be persecuted and despised so brutally. It’s painful to think someone could die simply for defending who they are or what they believe in. Bill Condon clearly wants to show how political interests end up crushing human lives, and that always carries emotional weight. The issue is that, for me, the film approaches these themes too superficially, and instead of moving me, it mostly leaves me apathetic. I understand the ideas better here than I did in the 1985 version, but I still carry the same emotional distance. It’s as if the movie desperately wants to tell me something profound while I’m just sitting there thinking: “Yes, I get it, but I don’t really care”. Diego Luna, Tonatiuh Elizarraraz, and Jennifer Lopez are not bad here at all, but the screenplay limits them to embodiments of ideas rather than fully realized human beings. They exist primarily to represent concepts: love, revolution, freedom, sacrifice. And that wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if those themes resonated with me more strongly. Since they don’t, my emotional connection to the characters never becomes particularly deep. Surprisingly, though, I almost prefer the two male leads here over William Hurt and Raúl Juliá in the original film. And Diego Luna’s character should affect me more than he does. I’ve always rejected the idea of punishing someone simply for thinking differently — although, of course, that also depends on the belief itself — and the film builds a strong conflict around that idea. Tonatiuh’s character represents love as the driving force of existence, yet he doesn’t impact me that deeply either. I believe both performances, I grow somewhat attached to them as people, and then I forget about them once the credits roll. Visually, however, the film is gorgeous. The cinematography has a rich texture, vibrant colors, and imagery so vivid that it almost feels tangible. It’s genuinely pleasing to look at. The downside is the production design, which often feels overly artificial and stage-like. The 1985 version carried a sense of coldness, roughness, and authenticity that this remake lacks. And musically, I can’t praise it much because musicals have simply never been my thing. During those sequences, I mostly wait for them to end so the narrative can continue. In the end, the best thing about the film is its cast, while the worst thing is the way it leaves me feeling as a viewer. I walked away slightly more satisfied than I did with the original version, but it still never truly won me over.

‘Kiss of the Spider Woman’ is an adaptation of the 1992 musical, which was itself based on the 1976 novel of the same name by Manuel Puig, first adapted for the screen in 1985. The description sounds like a spiderweb, but it's important to understand the frame surrounding this film. With so many treatments and ideas over the years, the **** and political story about two men bonding in an Argentinian jail during the Dictatorship now displays a clear confusion on screen regarding what it wants to tell and how it wants to present it. While it's not a resounding and tone deaf disaster like ‘Emilia Pérez’ is, this film, which so loudly proclaims the magic of cinema and its healing nature, falls far short of what could be defined as a cinematic and emotional odyssey (for a masterful example of this, watch the Austrian prison drama ‘Great Freedom’).

[SPOILER ALERT: This review contains spoilers.]