Throughout most of Passages, the new movie by queer indie filmmaker Ira Sachs, it is incredibly easy to hate Tomas (Franz Rogowski). This is a guy who through no one’s fault but his own ruins both his long-term relationship and the affair that he thought would become something more via his toxic co-dependency and a small helping of emotional manipulation. He only seems concerned as far as his own feelings go and how much others validate them. You feel irritated by him, frustrated -you can’t wait for his partners to leave. But then, right in the end stretch, you feel pity. This poor idiot desperate to be loved gains a new dimension of humanity -that has been lingering through all of his bullshit and just needed the right context to be made fully palpable.
There are a lot of conflicted feelings evoked by this movie -appropriate given it is about conflicted feelings in a romantic and sexual sense. Sachs is somewhat known in the American independent scene for his more complex depictions of gay relationships in movies like The Delta and Keep the Lights On; Passages is no different as it focuses on a married gay man who falls in love with a woman. Tomas is a German filmmaker living in Paris with his English husband Martin (Ben Whishaw) when he meets at a wrap party an alluring schoolteacher Agathe (Adèle Exarchopoulos). Martin has been emotionally distant lately (he leaves the party early after refusing to dance), which seems to be the impetus for Tomas to have sex with Agathe. Afterwards he is open about it to Martin and their relationship begins to dissolve -which Tomas tries hard to hold onto whilst still continuing the affair with Agathe, evidently determined to be with both of them in some capacity.
It’s fortuitous I just reviewed The Bigamist, considering this movie is pretty similar -though Sachs doesn’t treat Tomas with the same sympathy that Ida Lupino does Edmond O’Brien’s character. We see from the first scene how particular a director Tomas is, how he needs to be in control of everything -and throughout this movie he struggles to maintain that control in both his relationships and his desires. He appears to feel guilt over betraying Martin and yet he has sex with Agathe again the very same day. After seeing Martin apparently out and embarking on a new relationship, his jealousy drives him to go back to their home and seduce his husband while still having no intention to break things off with Agathe. And he leaves both, who have barely met one another, feeling neglected.
Sachs and Rogowski have created a real piece of work with this character -someone who is reprehensible in how he treats the people he supposedly cares about and yet is also captivating, charismatic even. Rogowski, in his first leading showcase on the international stage, makes a striking impression on his unique features and personal style alone -he’s got the sharp face and the smirk of a Machiavel, through which he relates well this air of ambition especially in matters of an almost salacious carnal need. Lust and sex are the catalysts of the trouble Tomas brings. When he confesses to Martin his original sin it is not with shame but enthusiasm -he is jubilant at the experience of heterosexual sex and wants Martin to know all about it. In two intense sex scenes, one straight one gay, it is his pleasure that takes focus -even when he’s obscured in frame. He certainly isn’t in one scene where he masturbates Agathe -despite the pleasurable sensation being hers, it’s him who the camera is drawn to.
That’s not to say either Agathe or Martin are comparably non-sexual. Indeed, they each have their own particular sexual tension with Tomas that speaks to their respective brands of intimacy -hers thrilling and sensual, his comfortable yet passionate. Agathe has no other lovers in the film, but while separated from Tomas, Martin begins a relationship with Ahmad (Erwan Kepoa Falé), with whom he shares a warmth and honest tenderness that seems alien to the other pairings. Still, they are each brimming with erotic subtext, Sachs is very open not only in his depictions of sex but how it innately informs, even dictates these relationships. And it’s not even all about Tomas’ uncontrollable proclivities -Agathe and Martin are each enraptured by their lusts, if less chaotically so. Each of them are drawn as fundamentally sexual beings that Sachs and the actors highlight through the intimacy of the camera, visceral nuances in physicality, how they dress, how they are lit, etc. Exarchopoulos and Whishaw, both already beautiful people, have rarely been more flattered by a movie.
They both give stupendous performances as well -complimentary foils to Rogowski’s impulsiveness. Poor Martin earns all your sympathy as Whishaw again plays a character you can’t help but immediately empathize with -whose only sin was simply being settled in a relationship. And as Agathe, Exarchopoulos is cogently relatable as well, as the weight of her relationship with Tomas presses down on her with new emotional consequences. For as attractively sensual as the movie is (hell, probably because of it), it spotlights with gruelling efficacy the trauma of a toxic relationship. I alluded to Tomas’ emotional manipulation, which is especially blunt in one scene where he begs Martin to take him back, at the same time endeavouring to convince him to essentially include Agathe in a polyamorous arrangement. He tries a similar tactic with Agathe in the eleventh hour. It’s also unconfirmed but likely he has sex with Martin at least in part to soften the blow of some news about Agathe, and later he causes a scene in front of her parents when aiming to appear as a responsible partner. Deftly, Sachs illustrates the way it all builds up, and in one of the film’s best scenes –the only one between Martin and Agathe alone- we see the toll this relationship has taken on each of them, the deep mutual understanding in spite of their differences, the last straw that has broken for her and is about to break for him.
Still, Sachs and Rogowski hold off painting Tomas as an easy villain, and there really is something abject to where he ends up that casts him, his behaviour and actions throughout the movie in a different light; not a positive one, but one significantly more sorrowful. What Passages reminds me a lot of is Wong Kar-wai’s Happy Together –which also depicts the dissolution of an intimate gay relationship, albeit with the principal focus reversed. Passages is more raw and deserves to be –a movie all about the complex drive for sex, love, and desire, its capacity for passion but also abuse and emotional devastation. One of the more engaging and genuinely daring queer films in recent memory too; and a stunning showcase in every sense of that word for its cast and their intuitive director.
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