Sex and Lucia Movie Trailer. Julio Medem, who wrote and directed ”Sex and Lucía,” conjures up screenplays that are a damp tangle, as wet and mixed up as a headful of summer hair. Mr. Medem, whose ”Lovers of the Arctic Circle” also seemed to fold in on itself, must feel that fractured narrative is the best way to tell the story of protagonists who are at a loss at disentangling their own lives. This makes the Spanish-language ”Sex and Lucía,” which opens today in Manhattan and Los Angeles, both refreshing and confusing, the film equivalent of an ice cream headache.
The abundant nudity and moist clinches of the movie explain why ”sex” is in the title, since it’s almost the co-star of the film. But the director’s affinity for sensuality and sumptuousness, though often superficial, is so intoxicating that our interest is piqued enough to follow him. But the final destination, albeit eye-catching, is nowhere, and he gets there in no particular hurry.
This dizzy state is the condition in which we encounter Lucía (Paz Vega). Her boyfriend, the emotional and unpredictable novelist Lorenzo (Tristán Ulloa), has just died. Through flashbacks, ”Sex” dances backward to the start of the relationship, a moment wherein Lucía flings herself at Lorenzo after declaring that she is a fan of his work (and a scene that will make most of the guys in the audience turn immediately to writing fiction).
The teasing playfulness that Mr. Medem evokes when these two absurdly beautiful specimens are becoming acquainted is fun to watch; the lovers seem to take as much joy from their own physical perfection as from their partner’s. Mr. Medem is unembarrassed about the nudity and, because the camera isn’t simply leering at the female star — which can make the most even-handed movies about the sensual sleazy — ”Sex” exposes the flesh of both lovers to the open air.
After her lover’s death, Lucía flees to a remote Mediterranean island, which Mr. Medem’s cinematographer has photographed to look sunny and slightly stripped of color, as if reflected off mirrored sunglasses. She’s dealing with what should be called an agonizing reappraisal, except that the movie is too shallow and giddy for that.
Although the island, just off the coast of Spain, meant much to Lorenzo, Lucía could never persuade him to take her there. The place is as evanescent as Lorenzo: the very island seems to be floating away, like a Muppet with attention-deficit disorder. Lucía arrives alone and begins to discover the secrets that Lorenzo kept hidden, a sticky path of obfuscation and lies.
Mr. Medem’s obsession with a single, vertiginous moment — the point at which his characters discover that everything they thought they knew was wrong — should make richer drama than this revelation does. He has got a more than capable cast, but his craftsmanship is too diverting. He’s so smooth with the actors and so adept at rendering surfaces that he creates a level of expectation he’s not meeting as a writer.
As the loose anecdotes build into a tawdry story, at once oblique and portentous, about Lorenzo’s ex-lover Elena (Najwa Nimri), their child and a dog, you realize that the director has managed to be both vague and heavy-handed at the same time. Given Mr. Medem’s mature cool in showing sex on screen, it is not only disappointing but also disquieting that he’s reduced to heavy breathing when trying to make his metaphysical gestures.
Yet his ambition is admirable: when I saw ”Sex and Lucía” in northern Spain last fall, immediately after the film ended the silent crowd began chattering away about the movie’s implications and intentions. I founnd myself more appreciative of what the director was trying to do than of what he had actually done. One achievement is that this movie was produced by the European arm of Warner Brothers; it is too bad that its American cousin doesn’t take a few risks like this as well.
Sex and Lucia (2002)
Lucía y el Sexo
Directed by: Julio Medem
Starring: Elena Anaya, Javier Camara, Daniel Freire, Silvia Llanos, Najwa Nimri, Tristán Ulloa, Paz Vega, María Álvarez, Diana Suárez, Arsenio León, Alesandra Alvarez
Screenplay by: Julio Medem
Cinematography by: Kiko de la Rica
Costume Design by: Estíbaliz Markiegi
Set Decoration by: Víctor Molero
Art Direction by: James David Goldmark, Montse Sanz
Makeup Department: Juan Rodríguez Valverde, Gregorio Ros
Music by: Alberto Iglesias
Distributed by: Warner Sogefilms A.I.E. (Spain), Colifilms Distribution (France), Palm Pictures (United States)
Release Date: June 12, 2002
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