Monica is a soul-stirring exploration of the interplay between self-perception and the need for validation from those around us. Trace Lysette’s performance as Monica, a woman reluctantly drawn back to the place she once called home to care for her ailing and estranged mother, is nothing short of masterful. The film is a true visual delight, with each frame carefully crafted to reveal the intricate complexities of Monica’s character and her place in the world. She is like a precious pearl, suspended in the translucent depths of childhood memories and family relationships. Every scene is a window into Monica’s innermost thoughts and emotions, inviting us to share in her journey of self-discovery. Whether she is bathed in the gentle glow of light filtering through the French doors, or captured in a moment of reflection through the lens of a childhood photograph, Monica’s story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. She is a rare gem, polished and refined by life’s many challenges, whose beauty and brilliance is only magnified by the love and support of those around her.
Eugenia (Patricia Clarkson) is a woman who seems both brittle and sharp, her mind clouded by dementia to the point where she can no longer recognize her own daughter. As Monica (Trace Lysette) tends to her ailing and estranged mother, the viewer is left to wonder if Eugenia’s inability to recognize her daughter is rooted in her condition or if it is because Monica is a trans woman. With a delicate touch, Monica weaves a poignant family drama that is as much about the silences between its characters as it is about what is spoken aloud. The film is a meditation on the things left unsaid, the weight of memory and regret, and the complexity of familial relationships.
The film opens on an electrifying note, with the pounding beat of a classic ’80s track serving as the backdrop for an extreme close-up of Monica, sporting metallic tanning goggles. As she hops into her red convertible and attempts to make a difficult phone call through the half-rolled window, we get a sense of her strong will and determination. Despite her commanding presence, Monica is grappling with deep-seated insecurities and yearning for the affection of a man named Jimmy, who has asked her not to call him. Her struggle for connection is a central theme that permeates the film.
When Monica arrives at her family’s stately colonial home, which has fallen into disrepair, she is met by her sister-in-law Laura and three children whom she has never met before. Eugenia is present but does not recognize her daughter either due to dementia or because Monica is trans. In a brief conversation with Laura, Monica learns that she is there to help, though the reasons are not explained in detail. As the film progresses, Monica is forced to confront the complexities of her family relationships and grapple with the difficult truths of her own identity.
Monica’s return to her childhood home is marked by moments of both intimacy and ambiguity. As she balances her life as a webcam performer with caring for her ailing mother, Monica’s character unfolds gradually, with Patricia Clarkson delivering a nuanced and deeply moving performance. The film’s deliberate pace and understated approach to storytelling may test the patience of some viewers, but for those willing to immerse themselves in Monica’s world, the rewards are rich and profound. Director and writer, Andrea Pallaoro, uses camera angles and framing to evoke Monica’s sense of displacement and disconnection, capturing her from behind or in partial shots that leave the viewer yearning for more.
As Monica navigates the complexities of her family dynamics, we see her grappling with her own identity and place in the world. In a moment of intense vulnerability, Monica cradles her mother’s head as she cries out for her own mother, reminding us of the inevitable cycle of life and death. But even as Monica faces these painful truths, she remains enigmatic and complex, her feelings about her mother and childhood home remaining just out of reach. While the film may not offer easy answers or neat character arcs, it’s quiet power and emotional resonance make it a deeply affecting portrait of family, identity, and the mysteries of the human heart.
Monica is a masterclass in understated filmmaking, where the power of suggestion reigns supreme. With each frame beautifully crafted by the talented Katelin Arizmendi, the film’s cinematography is nothing short of breathtaking. Arizmendi’s visuals are not only stunning, but they also offer insightful glimpses into the character’s emotional states. From the melancholic music box melody to the playful image of Monica frozen in time, every element has its place in creating a delicate tapestry of longing and acceptance.
Rather than relying on words, Pallaoro and Tirado’s script trusts in the audience’s ability to connect the dots, infusing every scene with emotional resonance. From Eugenia’s gut-wrenching breakdown to Monica’s moments of unbridled anger, each beat lands with the force of a sledgehammer. The film’s restraint only serves to heighten the emotional impact, making it all the more powerful when the characters do finally open up. Through its delicate and nuanced portrayal of the human experience, Monica is a marvelous film, and very few films have captured the essence of what a trans person goes through as well as this one does. It will leave you moved, inspired, and forever changed. A must-watch.
Monica will be available in theaters beginning May 12, 2023 courtesy of IFC Films.
Monica is a masterclass in understated filmmaking, where the power of suggestion reigns supreme.
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GVN Rating 10
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It all started when I was a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons like the Spider-Man: Animated Series and Batman. Since then I’ve been hooked to the world of pop culture. Huge movie lover from French New Wave, to the latest blockbusters, I love them all. Huge Star Wars and Marvel geek. When I’m free from typing away at my computer, you can usually catch me watching a good flick or reading the next best comic. Come geek out with me on Twitter @somedudecody.