Viewers’ bandwidth for On the Go will depend on how much they appreciate art cinema. When the plot summary is as vague and fantastical as “A delirious road movie, full of music, where a mysterious mermaid will set the course of the journey,” you know you’re in for a unique viewing experience.
On the Go is written and directed by Maria Gisele Royo and Julia De Castro. As rambling as the story is, there’s somewhat of a throughline. De Castro stars as Milagros, a woman whose biological clock is ticking loudly and who is determined to get pregnant. She brings along her tracksuit-wearing bestie Jonathan (Omar Ayuso), who’s on the run for arson and larceny while looking for a new lover (or two) on Grindr, to Sevilla to find the perfect “stallion” of a man. Together, they form the oddest Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque couple you’ve ever seen. The mermaid they meet, the Triana’s Queen (Chacha Huang), is a bright and uninhibited addition to the pair, though much of her motivation remains ambiguous.
Even though the plot is relatively simple, much of the film feels as if the directors cut and pasted different vignettes together. At any moment, characters arrive with no backstory or proper introduction. We are constantly on the go, as the title suggests, taking all sorts of narrative detours. As a viewer, you can either embrace this bohemian spirit or be frustrated by its randomness. Thankfully, at only one hour and twelve minutes long, the wild journey is brisk.
The 16mm cinematography and 1.37:1 aspect ratio add to the film’s ethereal surrealism, causing us to focus intensely on the faded images that appear like a dream: a horse watching an orgy in the stable next door, tight close-ups of a man surgically removing fish hearts, or a woman touching herself erotically on a beach.
It’s heartening to see a film that is so unapologetically queer and nonconformist. Much like the characters’ escape to a nude beach, their bodies freely splayed in the sand and glistening in the sun, the film is sensual and laissez-faire—but may be too abstract for many viewers. Recommended.
Why should public libraries add this LGBTQ surrealist film to their collections?
Public libraries play a vital role in showcasing underrepresented voices, and this LGBTQ surrealist road movie fits the bill perfectly. With its unapologetically queer perspective and freeform narrative, the film challenges viewers to expand their understanding of gender, identity, and intimacy beyond conventional norms. It’s ideal for patrons interested in international cinema, experimental storytelling, or queer culture, and offers a valuable point of access for those looking to explore LGBTQ+ themes through a bold, artistic lens. Including this film in public collections supports diversity, sparks dialogue, and offers a refreshing alternative to mainstream depictions of queer life.
What makes this experimental LGBTQ film unique in contemporary cinema?
This film stands out for its combination of surrealist aesthetics, tactile 16mm visuals, and radical queer energy. In a cinematic landscape that often prizes tidy plots and marketability, it revels in dream logic, disjointed vignettes, and emotional truth over narrative clarity. The inclusion of a mermaid, a fugitive best friend, and a protagonist on a chaotic fertility quest gives the film a mythic quality while staying rooted in deeply personal stakes. It’s an interesting example of queer cinema that is neither tragedy nor coming-of-age tale, but instead a liberated, sensuous exploration of pleasure, confusion, and transformation.
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