Jennifer Lopez and Tonatiuh shine in a dulled version of Kiss Of The Spider Woman

Theoretical musings on gender, sexuality, and revolution are messily woven together in Kiss Of The Spider Woman, Bill Condon’s reimagining of the musical that swept the 1993 Tony Awards. While that production was based on the wildly successful 1985 Brazilian film of the same name—which itself was based on Argentine author Manuel Puig’s 1976 novel—Condon’s version is more interested in making minor semantic updates as opposed to offering a compelling new vision. 

The inherent constraints of the independently financed project—executive produced by Jennifer Lopez’s Nuyorican Productions alongside Ben Affleck and Matt Damon’s Artists Equity banner—are evident on screen, where everything from the costume design to the lighting choices lack the sumptuous essence typically on display in the Old Hollywood sensibility that the film attempts to recreate. Despite these visual shortcomings, Jennifer Lopez and newcomer Tonatiuh (who some may recognize from his minor yet essential role in the recent Netflix airport thriller Carry-On) deliver committed performances, even if the ideas they’re tasked with communicating don’t quite land.

As with all renditions of this story, the central conceit is the same: Cellmates Luis Molina (Tonatiuh) and Valentin Arregui (an unconvincing Diego Luna) slowly develop a deep bond as they endure a harsh prison sentence. In line with the musical and novel, the two are imprisoned in Argentina during the tail end of the Dirty War, the military junta that violently persecuted communists from 1974 through 1983. While Arregui is detained for his involvement with a Marxist syndicate—and is regularly tortured in the hopes that he will eventually betray his comrades—Molina’s crime is merely his sexuality. 

From the moment they’re placed in the same cell, Molina announces the reason for his conviction: “public indecency” for having sex with another man in a restroom. In previous iterations, Molina is charged with “corrupting a minor,” a detail that was almost certainly changed to refute the homophobic notion that queer people are prone to predation. Yet his backstory isn’t particularly fleshed out here. Elements of his relationships on the outside—namely with his mother and unrequited love interest—clutter his characterization instead of fortifying it. 

To pass the time and escape from their bleak reality, Molina periodically regales Arregui with an intricate retelling of Kiss Of The Spider Woman, his favorite movie starring his favorite actress, Ingrid Luna (Lopez). While he paints a vivid portrait with his words, only Molina is aware of the fact that he has inserted himself and his cellmate into the story. Ingrid plays the dual role of Aurora, a successful and beautiful magazine editor as well as the mythical Spider Woman, whose kiss can instantly kill. Embodying Kendall Nesbitt, her assistant and closest confidant, is Molina, who constantly quips about the character’s overt (if socially unrecognized) queerness. Arregui, in turn, stands in for Armando, a renowned photographer and Aurora’s love interest who’s in danger of falling under the Spider Woman’s spell. Of course, the film within the film begins to directly parallel the jailed duo’s circumstances, with both stories mired in betrayal, sacrifice, and romantic passion. 

For a supposedly grandiose fantasy, Condon’s musical elements fail to exude an air of opulence. The lighting is flat and harsh (definitely uncharacteristic of Technicolor, which the film apparently strives to replicate) and the finer details of set pieces and wardrobes are underwhelming. Ill-fitting dress straps awkwardly bunch around Lopez’s otherwise stunning physique while sparse decorative props feel haphazardly curated. In all fairness, the original showtunes—with music written by John Kander and lyrics by Fred Ebb—don’t personally electrify me to begin with, so qualms about the songs themselves don’t merit critique here. 

In spite of these faults, Lopez imbues her character with a wonderfully calibrated theatricality. One particularly striking sequence, in which Aurora dons a beaded dress with a long fringe skirt, showcases Lopez’s multifaceted talents as an entertainer. A kinetic and effortlessly fluid dance with an imposing mobster is perhaps the pinnacle of choreographer Christopher Scott’s efforts here—a shame considering how early the scene occurs in the film. 

Tonatiuh is also excellent, even if his choice to lean into melodrama is at times trying (though an obvious nod to William Hurt’s Oscar-winning performance from ‘85). Through Molina, Condon tries to convey a more forward-thinking attitude regarding the idea that “gender is a social construct” (a statement actually uttered by Arregui), but there is no real empowerment to this portrayal. As Emilia Pèrez continues to garner critical vitriol, Spider Woman almost feels like its ideological opposite—so tame in its examination of gender dysphoria and queerness that it hardly has a legible perspective at all.

Perhaps the most damning aspect is the lack of chemistry between Tonatiuh and Luna. For all of the flaws of the original film (namely the regressiveness of Molina’s character), Hurt and co-star Raul Julia genuinely foster a mounting sense of empathy through their characters. In Condon’s view, empathy equates with full-blown love; the reality is that spending extended time with someone else can gradually shift your own biases, yet the screenplay doesn’t fully grapple with these characters’ ingrained differences and how they are forced to interrogate their own beliefs and desires. 

It all goes down a little too easily, not to mention how the backdrop of the Dirty War barely rears its ugly head (save for convenient on-screen text that spoonfeeds context to the audience). Messy and muddled in its presentation and messaging, Kiss Of The Spider Woman needs more than just compelling performances to raise this project to the level of esteem granted to its predecessors from 30 and 40-odd years ago. 

Director: Bill Condon
Writer: Bill Condon
Starring: Jennifer Lopez, Diego Luna, Tonatiuh, Tony Dovolani
Release Date: January 26, 2025 (Sundance)