Mariana Di Girólamo is a woman on a mission in Pablo Larraín's Ema (2019), a character study in the guise of an erotic thriller. For most of the film’s running time, it seems as if Ema, a peroxide-blonde dancer and beautician, is flailing in her attempts to resume guardianship of her adopted son. But she has an overarching plan which Larraín, working from a serpentine script by Guillermo Calderón and Alejandro Moreno, doesn't reveal until the end.
The story begins just after Ema and her estranged husband, Gastón (Gael García Bernal in his third film with Larraín), have returned 10-year-old Polo (Cristián Suárez) to social services after an act of arson that left Ema's sister critically injured. It isn't clear if Polo intended any harm, but he's likely to have gotten the idea from his adoptive mother, a late-night firebug. Larraín never explains Ema's fascination with fire, though she only takes her flamethrower to property—not people.
In the wake of their loss, Ema and Gastón, a choreographer 12 years her senior, have found it challenging to live and work together. It doesn't help that Ema can be cruel, particularly regarding Gastón's impotence and aversion to reggaetón. As their marriage unravels, Ema spends more time with her female friends, sexually fluid dancers who enjoy partying as much as she does.
After she meets with a lawyer Raquel (Paola Giannini) to discuss a divorce, she enters into an affair with her in lieu of financial compensation. Then, she meets Aníbal (Santiago Cabrera, Big Little Lies), a bartender and firefighter, and enters into an affair with him, too. As foolhardy as it may seem, the affairs feed into her grand scheme.
If Larraín doesn't judge Ema, she's still more schemer than a victim, though the director suggests that she uses her body to get what she wants because she lacks the resources to do otherwise. She's also more physical than cerebral in the way she moves through the coastal town of Valparaíso, to the extent that she spends the bulk of the film in a series of colorful tracksuits.
In contrast with Larraín's period films, cinematographer Sergio Armstrong has conjured up a bold, modern look, particularly in the dance and flame-throwing sequences. Chilean-American composer Nicolas Jaar's electronic score further elevates the film's aesthetic appeal.
Ema arrived between Larraín's English-language debut Jackie and Spencer, his second Oscar-nominated film about a famous (and famously isolated) female figure. Since his Spanish-language films, like the 2012 international breakthrough No, revolve around male characters, his eighth feature serves as a bridge between the two halves of his career. Though Ema often comes across as more of a construct than a living, breathing human being, Di Girólamo always makes her worth watching.
Music Box's home-video release includes commentary from choreographer José Vidal, an essay from Mexican-American critic Carlos Aguilar, and a conversation between Larraín and editor and journalist David Barker (The Edge of Democracy). Recommended for adventurous Latin American, world cinema, and modern dance collections.
Discover more titles for your film collection in our list of dance movies.