"a fantastic woman"

Participant Media

At no other time in recent memory has a Foreign Language Oscar frontrunner delivered on its hype quite as masterfully (or as self-assuredly) as Sebastián Lelio's "Una Mujer Fantástica." Deliberate in its artistry, storytelling dexterity, and physiological melodrama, it never once stumbles or suffers any creative missteps. Commanding the screen like the opining Almodóvarian heroine she is, newcomer Daniela Vega immerses herself into the complex marrow of Marina Vidal — a late twenty something waitress by day and opera/ lounge singer by night mourning the loss of her deceased older partner. Without calling too much attention to her striking "otherness," Marina's gender non-conformity is governed by a meticulous restraint in Lelio's potboiler narrative, which plays more like a whodunnit than standard fare character study; and the love we inevitably share for his leading lady is never forced down our own throats, but earned, rightly so by Chilé's first openly trans actress. Vega is in fact such a forceful presence here that it's difficult to imagine how an actor with so little prior experience could pull off such an incredible feat. Even as the title suggests some rather daunting shoes to fill, Daniela nails every line of dialogue with granular responsiveness, skilled pathos and an arc bolstered by her own quiet, dignified bliss. 

Marina's story may have begun long ago, but her tabula rasa moment occurs when 57-year-old lover Orlando perishes unexpectedly (played by an equally moving Francesco Reyes), abruptly forcing her into exile by his bereaved, former family. While Orlando's older brother Gabo remains levelheaded throughout the ensuing turmoil, the rest of the tribe want nothing to do with Marina, except to perhaps expunge her from their collective memories. She is questioned by an intrusive sexual crimes unit, has her hair pulled (and dragged) by Orlando's dick of a son Bruno, and undergoes a dehumanizing physical exam just to clear her name. Though what really deserves clearing is her head — having recently partnered with a man twice her age, Marina begins experiencing hallucinatory visions of her departed lover all around the city (in this case, beautiful sodium-lit Santiago), the only visage which brings her any comfort or joy, but very few answers. All that Marina really wants from Orlando's family, aside from the dog she was promised, is to be seen; to be accepted as part of a person's life who refused to perceive her as a leper, or as Orlando's ex-wife proclaims, a "chimera." There's an ever-present danger lurking within Marina's very being, whether it be physical acts of malice or small, minute jabs which slowly erode and chip away at her soul. Her sexuality and genderless tergiversation always a perilous centerpiece which she's either forced to defend, explain or (painfully) shy away from. 

Having seen "Call Me By Your Name" the week prior to "Woman," I now appreciate Michael Stuhlbarg's exquisite monologue for having registered so favorably among this awards season footnote chatter. It is partly owed to the fact that there isn't a scintilla of anger directed toward his son's sexual orientation, and the love lost is treated like any heterosexual relationship, by any dad who would grieve for his child's failed romance. It's critically refreshing, and urgently needed on screen, if only as a temporal respite for the many gay, lesbian, transgender and queer viewers who wished for that reaction from their own fathers, and who might've had an easier time reconciling their lives if only that reality had been so. Marina however gets no such reprieve in this arena; no family or close friends whose shoulders she can lean against, or cry on. The one person who understood what she was or what she wanted to be has now faded from memory, and in Orlando's absence Marina's only sustenation becomes her greatest oppugner — for if that person who we loved, who made us feel whole again, suddenly expired, would we too expire along with them? Orlando's family appears to be much more preoccupied with concealing Marina's identity than they are of bashing her head in, but in leading her on this existential journey they also unlock the crucial moments where she's able to see herself as she truly is, even as remaining unseen would be the best way to avoid pain, death, and possible incarceration. Ultimately making her worthy of the title, Una Mujer Fantástica . 

"A FANTASTIC WOMAN" Rated R. Running time: 1 hour 44 minutes.