An atmospheric homage with warm hues and uneven pacing, The Oval Portrait invites viewers into a uniquely cozy yet eerie world. Adapted from Edgar Allan Poe’s shortest story, the film attempts to combine elements of romantic gothic horror with a crime thriller.
While it succeeds in creating an inviting ambiance, the narrative’s slow progression, mixed performances, and occasionally shaky logic prevent it from fully realizing its potential.
A Tale Split Between Old Souls and Crime
The story pivots around three main characters: Whitlock, a cold and enigmatic antique shop owner; Ava, an aspiring romantic artist; and Julian, a thief caught between a criminal family’s demands and supernatural dangers lurking in Whitlock’s shop.
Whitlock’s antique store houses a photorealistic portrait that has piqued the interest of Grayson, son of the Bancroft crime family. Julian is tasked with stealing it, but previous theft attempts ended in mysterious disappearances.
Ava stands apart with her unconventional Luddite lifestyle, refusing cellphone or computer use, a trait that leads to her firing without warning.
After being dumped by a tech-obsessed boyfriend, Ava reconnects with Whitlock, finding in him a kindred spirit who shares her affinity for old-fashioned ways. Their gentle bond unfolds warmly, adding emotional texture amidst the eerie backdrop.
A Deeply Atmospheric Visual and Auditory Experience
Director Adrian Langley’s vision permeates every frame of The Oval Portrait. Undertaking the roles of writer, director, cinematographer, and editor, Langley’s strongest imprint is in the film’s visuals. The movie bathes the antique shop setting in warm, rich tones, inviting viewers into a space that feels both inviting and ominous.
This color palette adds layers of nostalgia counterpointed by whispering shadows and occasional ghostly apparitions, which effectively inject genuine moments of fear amid the calm.
Complementing the visuals, Andrew Morgan Smith’s score draws heavily from classic Hollywood horror traditions, evoking composers like Franz Waxman.
The music’s sweeping and haunting melodies lull the viewer, deepening the ambiance and enhancing the gothic romance vibe. This layering of mood and sound anchors the film’s strongest asset: its immersive environment.
Mixed Performances Underpin the Story
Michael Swatton brings gravitas and controlled intensity to Whitlock, whose measured speech and deliberate gestures are magnetic and set the emotional tone. In contrast, other performances falter.
Pragya Shail’s portrayal of Ava is uneven; her line delivery is occasionally awkward and unsure, which diminishes her character’s romantic appeal. Paul Thomas, as Julian, does his best to balance haplessness and resolve, but the script’s writing undermines the character’s potential depth.
The Oval Portrait (Credit: Northwest Motion Picture Corporation)
Simon Phillips, cast as the threatening Grayson, struggles to be convincing as a menacing mobster, reducing tension in key scenes.
These uneven performances underscore a fundamental issue: the characters feel underdeveloped and at times disconnected from each other, making the story’s emotional stakes harder to invest in.
A Slow-Burning Story With Repetitive Rhythms
The Oval Portrait unfolds at a decidedly unhurried pace. Its first act alone stretches nearly an hour, an eternity for viewers expecting a suspenseful horror thriller. This protracted introduction allows for quite a bit of visual and atmospheric indulgence but sacrifices narrative momentum.
The script often falls prey to repetition, with scenes revisiting the same themes or actions without advancing the plot meaningfully. This can frustrate viewers who crave clearer progression or stronger character development.
Additionally, some narrative elements strain credulity. Ava’s absence of basic technology while holding a technologically dependent job is an example, creating moments that unsettle logic and viewer immersion.
Langley’s decision to prioritize mood over momentum results in a film that is visually striking but occasionally slow in substance.
Blending Crime Drama With Gothic Romance
Poe’s original The Oval Portrait is brief, requiring creative expansion to reach feature length. Here, the film entwines a crime story seeking a mystical object with a delicate romantic undercurrent. While intriguing on paper, these genres seldom fully fuse in execution.
The criminal subplot involving Julian and the Bancroft family sometimes feels loosely attached, more a plot device than a thoroughly realized narrative thread. Meanwhile, the gothic romance between Ava and Whitlock offers sincere moments of warmth but lacks sufficient build-up or conflict to reach full emotional impact.
This mixture produces a film of tonal contrasts: old-fashioned love and eerie hauntings sit beside gritty criminal concerns, producing a unique but occasionally discordant effect.
The Strength of Ambiance Over Story
If The Oval Portrait had a single, undeniable quality, it would be its ambiance. Viewers are drawn into an eerie, cozy setting flooded with sepia tones, flickering candlelight, and, at times, legitimately chilling ghostly glimpses. This tangible mood almost carries the film on its own.
Even moments where plot logic falters or performances waver are softened by the palpable atmosphere. Langley’s cinematography often recalls classic horror films, making the antique shop not just a backdrop but an immersive character, filled with shadows and secrets.
The Oval Portrait is a mixed bag. Its allure lies in its comfortable, haunted aesthetic and the visual nods to Hollywood’s gothic past. Yet, its slow pace, uneven acting, and patchy storytelling make for a viewing experience that will delight some genre fans while frustrating others.
This is a film best suited for those who appreciate slow-burning atmospheres and old-fashioned romantic tragedy fused with supernatural hints. Those seeking tight scripting or intense thrills might find it disappointing.
Despite its flaws, The Oval Portrait surprisingly enchants with its charm. It’s a reminder that sometimes lingering in a place full of ghosts and memories, even if just for 100 minutes, can be strangely comforting and haunting all at once.
Kiss of the Spider Woman, directed by Bill Condon, brings to life the 1993 Tony Award-winning musical adaptation of Manuel Puig’s 1976 novel.
This new 2025 film adaptation stars Diego Luna as Valentín Arregui, a political prisoner imprisoned for leading a hunger strike, and Tonatiuh as Luis Molina, a gay window dresser with a penchant for fantasy and storytelling.
Jennifer Lopez embodies the glamorous Ingrid “La Luna” Luna, the persona Molina admires and channels in his retelling of the musical’s fictitious film sequences.
Set in 1983 Argentina under a repressive regime, the story contrasts the grim realities of political imprisonment with the vibrant allure of Hollywood musicals.
This duality is reflected in the film’s structure, which shifts between the stark prison cells where Molina and Valentín share their world and the lush musical fantasy wherein Molina’s storytelling breathes life into the gaudy, colorful life of Aurora, a fashion magazine editor played by Lopez.
Complex Characters and Chemistry Behind Bars
The dynamic between Molina and Valentín forms the emotional core of the film. Molina, full of dreams and optimism, uses the power of narrative to escape the brutal confines of prison life. Meanwhile, Valentín remains rooted in his political ideals and the somber realities of resistance.
Their initial tension gives way to a fragile friendship and even something resembling romance, shaped by their opposing worldviews but shared humanity.
Tonatiuh’s portrayal of Molina is both vibrant and heartfelt, imbuing the character with resilience and a hopeful spirit. Diego Luna’s Valentín provides a stoic, grounded counterbalance; his character is guarded but not immune to Molina’s warmth and imaginative escapism.
Lopez’s role as Aurora bridges both worlds, her glittering musical numbers adding spectacle and emotional depth with confident charisma and energy that captivate the audience.
A Feast of Spectacle and Contrasts
Bill Condon’s screenplay masterfully weaves the two realms, harsh political reality and fantastical musical, in a manner reminiscent of his earlier film, Chicago.
The musical sections are bold, bursting with dazzling choreography, glamorous costumes, and infectious tunes penned by John Kander and Fred Ebb. Lopez’s performances stand out, especially in the film’s final numbers, which received enthusiastic applause during premieres.
Kiss of the Spider Woman (Credit: Netflix)
Yet, balancing these extravagant sequences with the grim prison narrative proves challenging. Some moments in the prison setting feel uneven or contrived, struggling to fully capture the gravity of Valentín’s political fight.
The relationship’s development occasionally lags, and Molina’s subplot involving the prison warden feels undercooked, given its early predictability.
The Power of Escapism and Connection
At its heart, Kiss of the Spider Woman isn’t just a story about political oppression; it is about the vital role of hope, fantasy, and human connection in the darkest of times.
Molina’s storytelling is a lifeline not only for himself but also for Valentín, who initially resists but eventually finds solace and even love in their shared moments.
The film stresses that love can be revolutionary and transformative, an idea crystallized in the film’s poignant, more hopeful ending, where Valentín’s survival and remembrance of Molina symbolize resilience beyond prison walls.
This theme echoes Manuel Puig’s original novel and the subsequent adaptations’ intent: to show how imagination and intimacy can defy brutality. The fantasy musical numbers provide not just spectacle but a vital emotional contrast, emphasizing how imagination nourishes the human spirit when freedom is denied.
Strengths, Flaws, and Lasting Impact
While not without flaws, Kiss of the Spider Woman excels in bringing audiences into an immersive emotional experience. Its lavish musical numbers punctuate the story’s darker themes, highlighting the necessity of fantasy as refuge and the sustaining power of connection in dire circumstances.
Condon’s direction leans into both spectacle and intimacy, creating a film that is as much about human resilience as it is about show-stopping performances.
Jennifer Lopez commands the screen whenever she appears, embracing both the campy and heartfelt elements with remarkable skill. Tonatiuh and Luna’s chemistry ensures the relationship at the heart of the film feels genuine and complex, even when the script hesitates or overextends.
This adaptation may not reach the heights of Chicago but offers a distinctive and engaging take on a timeless story of love, survival, and hope under oppression.
It invites viewers to simultaneously confront harsh truths and delight in the escapism that only a musical can provide, a balancing act that, despite some missteps, resonates deeply.
