Passages

Caustically amusing, sexy, sad and unflinchingly intense, this is an intimate study of the formation and collapse of a romantic triangle, played with an invigorating absence of sentiment by three actors at the top of their game.

Ira Sachs is a master of the small, delicate gestures that wind up having seismic repercussions in our lives. In Passages, which might be his masterpiece, he fashions the most delectably ruinous of love triangles.

A film that is profoundly real, impactful, and even uncomfortable, but above all, is an artistic and complex story about three people confronted with their own sense of morality. [Full review in Spanish]

What emerges is a torrid, gripping drama that acknowledges not just what damage the careless can wreak but also to what extent the responsible often conspire in their own annihilation.

Passages is smart and precise about other people’s messes. It’s a way to indulge in the most volatile parts of ourselves without ever feeling like we’re about to lose control.

From the way Sachs shoots the streets of Paris, it’s obvious he adores New Wave film-makers like Truffaut.

The scene when Adèle Exarchopoulos sings to him is sensual and beautiful, with a sublime connection to Mia Hansen-Løve’s or Claire Denis’s cinema.

In the end, whether you - or, for that matter Martin or Agathe - love or hate Tomas or not is irrelevant, Sachs suggests, as he’s the sort whose freewheeling momentum will carry him forward no matter what.

I usually admire Sachs’ dramas at a distance, but this one got its hooks in me.

Filled with affecting intimacy and some of the best (and essential) sex scenes in recent memory, Passages is one of Sachs’ absolute best films and further solidifies the exemplary status of the three lead performers.