Something that becomes commonplace when you’re a consumer of independent and world cinema is the expectation of waiting. While there’s a good chance that the more major works will be distributed by somebody like A24 or Neon, there’s a chance that one will have to do one of two things. They’ll either have to pay out of pocket to get that V.O.D. watch or wait an indeterminate time for it to hit a major streamer. It’s a game that requires some patience, and I will say it’s the thing that makes cinema both rewarding and frustrating. You can’t help but wonder why the art that’s really challenging the form is often ignored. With that said, the chance to finally see it is the equivalent of a holy grail being uncovered. The effort feels greater than if it was quickly crossed off the list.
For me, Ema (2019) is the best example. There was a point when watching David Ehrlich’s Top 25 of 2019 video and his montage for this Pablo Larrain came up. There was this elaborate dance number in front of a backdrop of something. The best I can describe it as is a sun through different color filters. It was a mesmerizing image, and one that stuck with me. As someone who craves films that use dance effectively, I felt determined to watch it. But alas, it didn’t play even in the smaller theaters in my area and as the months carried on it never went to an accessible streamer. While I had contemplated a trial subscription to Mubi for that one night event, I think that I had wasted my e-mail address years prior to see Junun (2015). I was doomed to remain unable to access this movie with some of the most mesmerizing cinematography I had seen.
The frustration wasn’t just in that Ema looked incredible in its own cryptic way, but it was the one Pablo Larrain film that evaded American discourse. Ever since Jackie (2016), it feels like he’s been intertwined with anticipation of greatness. In fact, the frustration returned when Spencer (2021) came out and once again created one of the most provocative character studies of depression I have ever seen. How was Larrain not getting that bump where his entire catalog was celebrated with Spencer’s success? Sure, people wanted him to make a Britney Spears movie to complete some metaphorical trilogy, but I was desperately wanting to find Ema.
As of this publication, I am happy to report that it randomly stumbled onto Showtime on Demand somewhere between their dense A24 collection and various classics. You best believe that my heart skipped a beat. I pressed play to make sure that this wasn’t a fever dream. At long last, after three years of wondering what that glowing ball of energy was, I was finally going to get answers. Maybe it’s the overwhelming nature of the moment, but I was consumed by every frame, discovering another masterpiece by Larrain. It was so beautiful, managing to use dance and the spiritual subtext of humanity as it interwove through this tragic central story. This was everything that I had wanted it to be.
Before I dive into Ema, I figure that it’s only right to understand why I think Larrain is an interesting filmmaker. While I haven’t seen his older work, there was something about Jackie and Spencer that I find special. As much as I recognize the value of spectacle, I greatly favor stories that cater to interiority. I think it comes from being a writer and noticing the ability to have this greater understanding of a soul through a history that is unseen but informs every movement. With cinema, interiority is much more difficult to achieve and yet Larrain has done impeccable work. Jackie deconstructs trauma through this haunting portrait of a presidency tragically shot down, discussing what our greater legacy ultimately will be. Spencer delves deeper into opaque ideas that don’t entirely translate but are nonetheless more beautiful. The central montage of Kristen Stewart walking through her old home and seeing someone dancing and running is one of the most provocative moments of the past few years.
Which is the thing. Larrain’s understanding of interiority is what happens outside of conversation, when humanity is reduced to movements and the ways we express ourselves. I may have entered Ema thinking it was a go for broke arthouse film told through dance, but the results still took the ethos of the form and applied it to a fairly devastating central drama. Ema (Mariana Di Girólamo) is a compelling character whose struggles following an adoption that also throws her relationship with Gastón (Gael García Bernal) into some interesting directions. It’s a story that is rich with expression, but when it arrives at the most intimate of moments, there is an incompatibility that is abrupt and shocking.
And it all starts with the moment that made my heart flutter all those years ago. The dance sequence is paralleled by the less glamorous adoption story, forming this metaphorical birth. Suddenly the “sun through filters” took on this expression of life. The cinematography pops as everyone dances in these nude-colored suits, moving across a stage to a pulsating soundtrack. I know I’m in good hands because Larrain’s angles emphasize the beauty of the body, the craft of contrast shining through. It’s more than a haphazard filming of dancers. It’s an art piece that is only a hint of what’s to come. It may be set opposite scenes that are more drab and less attractive, but the build up reflects what’s inspiring about everything. It’s the intersection of Ema’s world, where suddenly passion and life are at odds with each other.
I love how alive the dance world is in Ema. I’m so used to these stories turning into psychosexual revenge thrillers – remember Birds of Paradise (2021)? – that it’s a relief for the core to be something so human and adult. When the performance ends, the audience gets to see an office meeting between Ema and her colleague about the public’s response. Like all art, it’s not fully understood and one has to question if the intentions truly matter. It’s a surprisingly dense conversation that includes discussion even of homosexual undertones. I don’t know if this dance troupe is necessarily reflective of how everyone does work, but it’s small things that make you realize how considered Larrain’s vision is. This is a world of passion and connection, and that’s as much for the intellectual as it is physical.
Sure, there’s not another dance number as elaborately staged as the opening minutes, but dance informs everything about these characters. At several points the camera will linger on a group practicing a routine. Like anyone walking down the street, it stops long enough to appreciate what is going on, hoping to find the greater purpose. Because this is cinema, it’s also gorgeous to look at and has a unison that is absent in the personal drama. It’s the type of stuff that deconstructs Ema, a character rich with ideas but who lacks the interiority that would make her relationship have meaning. There is a desperation to feel connected, and yet it’s only in this artificial setting, dancing to someone else’s song, that they ever truly feel alive.
With that said, Larrain manages to capture the struggle to find joy in a life that is supposed to be driven by it. When hanging out with friends, the cinematography once again pops with these bold colors. Even then, there is an awareness that any interrogation Ema gets is met with a lacking answer. She is not in love. She believes that there needs to be some personal connection to have sexual attraction. Clearly, she’s unable to convince herself that she can fake this part of herself. Even then, the pressure to make it work lingers. Her life is a collaboration and sacrifice. All she has to do is convince herself that this one is worth it.
Then, in a moment that ranks among the most stirring in an endlessly captivating film, four characters have sex. With blue lighting, Larrain finds the bodies in different positions, seeking the passion one would expect in this moment. Suddenly dance becomes sexual, where the partnership comes alive as the camera experiments with different pairings. The passion is aching as the naked bodies are artfully shot in these orgasmic states. Again, where most dance movies would use this as a chance to comment on the deranged nymphomania of dance culture, this is more an adult drama meant to show some deeper longing. This isn’t building to some grand murder, but just an expression of some deeper desires. It’s at times downright bisexual, finding women closely shot, finding joy in each other’s company. While Larrain could’ve been accused of exploiting the moment, I genuinely do believe that he’s trying to find the soul, the need for this sex scene to reflect something even more invisible in public. It’s only in these moments that people can be the most vulnerable, and it results in one of the most powerful moments in Ema and Larrain’s larger filmography.
I should note that while there’s an A to B format for everything, I don’t believe that this is a film indebted to plot. It’s a story that wanders from moment to moment, like a dance, forcing the audience to interpret the greater emotions on display. Sometimes they seem direct, but even in the less stylized moments there is a veering from something. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a film that understood dance as a mentality that it could exist outside of the choreography. It’s one that recognizes that our lives are a collaborative movement and it’s our job to put on the best performance imaginable. Given how the audience feels steamrolled by the end, it should be noted that the dance is multi-faceted, as much a mask as it is an embrace of life.
There is something premature about calling this a favorite of mine, but I came out the other side experiencing a full satisfaction that I don’t often get. Rarely has a work felt so lived in that I wanted to immediately feel immersed all over again. Still, Larrain has found a way to once again explore interiority with a visual panache that elevates everything into something more profound. It at times reminds me of the same achievement Satyajit Ray did with The Music Room (1958). While I am not someone gifted enough to express myself as clearly through art and music, I am forever fascinated by those who can. Larrain has proven to be one of those who gets it. In fact, he broke down expectations and showed me that there’s ways to make something largely seen as youthful and vibrant as mature and self-reflective. I love what this movie does.
This is easily one of the greatest waits I’ve had for a film in recent years. The search for a working copy has been difficult and I’m happy that when I accidentally stumbled upon it I didn’t just keep going. There was finally a chance to see someone I enjoy do something that is even more unsuspecting than what I’ve seen before. Even Spencer with its amazing dance montage couldn’t prepare me for what this transforms into. I can only hope that one day I will tune in and discover that Ema is part of The Criterion Collection, packed with special features that explore the story’s relationship between dance and tragedy. I want to hear these artists explain how they came up with that opening dance number. There’s so much that I want preserved on my movie shelf so that I may turn to it and recognize the miracle of art. Sometimes it’s just an enjoyable lark but every now and then you get something downright breathtaking like Ema. I hope to find more like that soon.
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