Julián Hernández makes complicated films.
That’s both an asset and, at times, a hindrance. His work can shift wildly from moment to moment, sometimes plodding and overwrought. At other times, his movies are full of lush imagery and poignant, emotional resonance. Demons at Dawn is no exception.
The Mexican filmmaker’s latest is an unblinking, passionate story about two young men discovering the thorny process of growing up and the knotty trials of adult love.
Orlando (Luis Vegas) and Marco (Axel Shuarma) are very different people at very different points in their lives. Orlando is, for better or worse, overflowing with passion. He strives to become a professional dancer while spending his nights, when he's not dancing at a strip club, confidently strutting around bars, looking for hook-ups. Marco, on the other hand, is more reserved, studying hard to become a nurse and seemingly ready for the next phase of life.
Hernández makes no room for confusion in their instant, passionate connection through beautifully shot, frequently intense sexual encounters. Yet, as is always the case in love, relationships change. After moving in together, even as that intensity continues, they sense that something more profound is developing.
Too often, love stories slouch into that old cliché of characters proclaiming they’re not ready for commitment. It’s a slight and transparent narrative device that inserts paper-thin conflict into burgeoning love.
When Orlando begins to put up barriers, Hernández finds truth in the cliche. Protracted scenes focus on small moments, showing how fear simmers in the emotional stew of new relationships, how each sentence between lovers can be loaded, misinterpreted, and fleeting.
Their love is real, but so is their fear. Without laying it out like a Netflix movie — where so little is left unsaid — Demons at Dawn lays bare their tenuous hopes for the future (as when Orlando hopes to make it onto a reality show for dancers), the internal rage at finding those hopes dashed, and how frightening it can be to see your world changing under the weight of love.
Hernández’s story and the striking work of cinematographer Alejandro Cantú thrive in moments of quiet intimacy that beautifully render those emotional subtleties. Yet, the film is less successful at building a plot around those feelings.
Orlando is stand-offish, consistently burying his reservations and disappointments. He struggles to hide those torrential tides. Yet, while Vegas portrays the brooding 20-something with alluring intensity, scenes stagnate as friend after friend asks him what’s wrong and he perpetually replies, “Nothing,” leaving the story frustratingly stuck in neutral.
Yet, for all the times the plot coasts, the relationship between the two young men remains vibrant, in part, because it’s about them.
Maybe it’s a small distinction, but it’s important. Orlando and Marco are never stand-ins for a community or a message. Their love is their own. While their emotions are relatable, the film never allows story or some other goal to supersede the characters’ emotions. It's something that many modern romances, particularly the splashy Hollywood star vehicles, miss. The characters drive Demons at Dawn; they are not driven by the film.
Even when Marco has an HIV scare that exacerbates a growing divide in their relationship, the film never loses focus on the characters and how the weight of every moment exerts pressure on their relationship. It may meander at times and linger too long at others, but Demons at Dawn is a strikingly real examination of relationships, one that resists the desire for blow-up moments and overwrought drama in favor of nuance and discovery. Recommended.
Which public library collections should include this Mexican LGBTQ drama?
Topically, Demons at Dawn is difficult to slot into some programs, in part, because of the frequent nudity that makes it unsuitable for screenings in many settings. Still, it is an excellent addition to collections looking to bolster holdings in contemporary world cinema or contemporary queer cinema. Cinephiles will find a lot to love, and it will be an addition that helps to showcase the breadth of filmmaking taking place in Mexico.
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