Buyers of this award-winning Spanish drama of lust vs. love, intimacy vs. creativity (or...something) must be aware there is a lot of sex (and of Lucia) in the original, unrated cut. In a more enlightened world where the MPAA's adults-only NC-17 rating had persevered as it was intended to, director Julio Medem's steamy, expectation-teasing feature would have been an apt recipient.
Madrid waitress Lucia (Paz Vega) receives shocking news that her estranged lover Lorenzo (Tristán Ulloa) killed himself. She flees to a favorite island retreat for solace with old friends. Meanwhile, flashbacks relay the backstory. Parentless, working-class Lucia impulsively approached Lorenzo, a successful novelist whose books captivated her. When she hinted they start seeing each other romantically, Lorenzo surprises her by accepting her instantly, and they move in together.
With Lucia as his muse, Lorenzo writing - only not quite so well, Lucia thinks. When we see Lorenzo insinuating himself into the life of beautiful, enticing Belén (Elena Anaya), the daughter of a retired porn star, the viewer must assume that rascal Lorenzo has gone looking elsewhere for inspiration. But then we see Lucia apparently reading (and approving) the manuscript of the Belén melodrama as it develops (and turns very tragic indeed). Are we literally seeing the truth or stepping into the feverish world of Lorenzo's emotionally charged literary imagination? And what's the deal with the anonymous sexual encounter in the water that opened the film? Is Lucia herself possibly fictitious?
It's said that writing is one of the most challenging things to depict cinematically. Medem (who dedicated the film to his own partner) gets around that hurdle by one of the less challenging things to depict cinematically: nudity/sex, in the bed, in the shower, covered in mud (a particularly impressive trompe d'oeil shot of what seems like a muddy beach, is a naked guy), etc. What is missing in the beautifully photographed erotica of taut, lovely bodies (and body doubles) is clarity of who is supposed to be doing what with whom, and whether any of it is even "real" or there is a solid explanation, however farfetched, for the tangles of relationships and limbs.
Sex and Lucia was released in the US in a shorter version with less graphic full-frontal male and female flesh, while in Spain the material won a slew of prizes; Paz Vega and many of its participants progressed from newcomers to established stars in Spanish cinema and television. Even so, this is not a film for your prudish maiden aunt, though a virile case could be made for inclusion on international film library shelves. A strong optional purchase for public libraries.