Directors: Ira Sachs
Writers: Mauricio Zacharias, Ira Sachs, Arlette Langmann
Stars: Franz Rogowski, Ben Whishaw, Adèle Exarchopoulos
Synopsis: A gay couple’s marriage is thrown into crisis when one of them impulsively begins a passionate affair with a young woman.
When we first see Tomas (Franz Rogowski) in Ira Sachs’ Passages, he’s directing a scene from his latest film. Hyper-focused on the minutiae, he stops a seemingly simple scene multiple times before rolling. An actor swinging his hands too much, a partygoer’s cup being empty. Almost immediately, we feel we understand this character. So how is it that a man so in control of his sets can spend the next 90 minutes of a film making the most rash, thoughtless, impulsive decisions imaginable? That’s where the subtle beauty of Sachs’ direction and script co-written by Mauricio Zacharias comes in. While this film is incredibly comical, if only for the sheer absurdity of its scenarios, Passages never feels as if it’s crossing over into cartoonish. Instead, the lives of Tomas, and the two lovers he bounces between, feel deeply rooted in the worlds of one another. Tomas being the only connection between Martin (Ben Whishaw) and Agathe (Adèle Exarchopoulos), the consequences are felt deeply and reverberate throughout the film, and subsequently, the audience.
Passages feels like Uncut Gems, if that film was incredibly sexy. Tomas is likely to go down as the messiest character of 2023. How are characters such as himself and Howie able to get the viewer so much on their sides? These characters, long before seeing how their stories end, are so clearly tragic figures. While it does feel that both Martin, and especially Agathe, are a bit under explored as characters, Passages operates way better on a Freudian level. With Tomas clearly operating as the id, the title of ego and superego shifts between the two other central characters throughout the runtime. They’re left to seemingly battle each other for the scraps as they become more wrapped up in his twisted love life. What’s most raw and depressing about this film, however, is how little they actually attempt to do so.
Rather than having Martin and Agathe pitted against one another, they’re deeply passive in the film, and at least some of it feels intentional. Another key aspect that saves the somewhat shallow nature of how these characters feel written is the performances given. Each one feels immensely lived in, and every reaction feels genuine. There are multiple instances of Whishaw’s performance wherein he hides a deep level of sadness, but captures a sense of composure barely being held onto. It’s the type of emotionally resonant performance full of nuance that feels special from the second you see it on screen. Rogowski, on the other hand, feels a bit reserved, but for good reason. It feels as if Tomas’ face is, more often than not, intentionally hidden and kept away from the audience in moments of vulnerability. A particular directorial choice in the third act breaks this pattern in a way that’s both brilliant and maddening. In many ways, Passages feels both elusive and deceptively simple. Yet it’s in this balance that its best moments shine.
Another element of Passages that must be noted is the gorgeous costume design. Each outfit on screen shines brighter than the last, and it’s the type of film that makes you want to reassess your entire wardrobe. There’s a palpable sense of freedom in how all the characters dress. From the strikingly colored dress and jackets, to the sheer crop-top Tomas inappropriately yet unabashedly wears, these characters all exude deep comfort with themselves, even during objectionable moments. Time and time again, you’ll want to scream at Tomas. You’ll do nothing but hope that Agathe and Martin are able to break free of Tomas’ deceit. But you’ll always remember that this is simply in Tomas’ very nature, and it almost seems that he’s less so just committed to his behavior, as much as it’s just the only behavior he knows.
Passages as a whole film really grapples with the notion of choice. Whether or not the right choice is made feels secondary on some level to the very idea that we have a choice in the first place. But it’s funny that the thesis statement of the film could be found, in all places, from one of Agathe’s young students. When asked if he’s allowed to go to bed whenever he would like, the young boy simply replies, “I can’t go to sleep whenever I want.” Tomas, the man who strolls into homes unwarranted whenever he so feels inclined, must have never learned this in school or at home. As his actions become more and more intolerable, you begin to wonder what his life must have been like that led him to this point. And yet, he has convinced two people to love him. When discussing the controversial NC-17 rating of this film from the MPAA, Sachs said, “There’s no untangling the film from what it is.” To look at Tomas as anything besides what he is: a narcissistic wasteland of pain dragging down those around him, would be a fool’s errand. Passages is beautiful because it focuses on an individual that, at his core, is ugly. Even still, Sachs is able to find a human core that’s radiant within all of it, warts and all.
