El Baile

The other day I watched Dance of the 41 (El Baile de Los 41). I was greatly affected.

The acting was achingly superb. The longing, the passion, the vitriol, the pain.... Oh, so. Much. Pain. And knowing that the film was based on true events was a punch in the gut.

I was surprised that I identified so much with the protagonist, Ignacio, a closeted gay man. Of course, at that time, being closeted was not a choice. Being outed meant the end of your career, your life. Perhaps not so much identify, but empathize. I am not sure. I cannot imagine not being able to show affection in public and being told that how you feel is amoral, a sin and a crime.

(Spoiler alert)

Amada's revenge was more than cruel. History is full of scorned women trapped in loveless marriages. For centuries marriage was a transaction, a practical means to climb political ladders, join nations and prevent war. Am I less of a feminist to suggest she could have taken a lover and left her husband be? Not only was she out to get him (to hold him captive even if she'd never have his heart), she ruined all his friends in doing so. Was that really necessary? That was pure spite.

And the ending was so cold. She was so cold. I could not bear it. An earlier scene had her collapse on the floor in defeat, both she and her husband panting post-altercation/assault, in stalemate. Her eyes communicated so much more than words could ever express. Despair, madness, sorrow... Oh my God the acting is so tantalizing. Everyone in the cast did a great job.

The film left me disturbed and saddened for more than 24 hours. I am forever haunted by images and emotions so exquisitely on display. I love when a film moves and changes me forever, as this certainly does not happen often in a lifetime. So glad I found this gem recommended by the New York Times during Pride Month.