QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM SAN SEBASTIAN

Ramon (Emanuel Soriano) is a sad and handsome 30-something-year-old gay man in Lima, the Peruvian capital. He has a decent corporate job, yet his life is unfulfilling. The pandemic has forced into near-complete isolation inside his lonely urban apartment, the partner whom he still loves has forsaken him, and his father (and namesake, from which the movie derives its title) has suddenly passed away. Unable to conduct a funeral due to Covid restrictions, authorities hand his ashes to Ramon. The problem is that Ramon has not been in touch with his father for many years, and so he sets out to hand his remains to relatives elsewhere, either abroad or in his father’s native village, a nearby place called Mito.

Equally beautiful and lonesome globetrotter Matteo (Álvaro Cervantes) enters Ramon’s life at a time when new connections are literally forbidden (both in the literal and the figurative sense). Despite the protective masks, the curfew and the social distancing, the two men develop a genuine bond. They dance, laugh and lock eyes without hesitation. Their bodies become used to each other’s presence and touch, even if it isn’t entirely clear whether the connection could develop into something sexual and/or romantic. The most intimate moments are captured with heartwarming authenticity.

Homophobia is the reason behind the fall out of the two titular characters. The young Ramon belongs to a generation unabashed of their sexuality, something that provoked his father’s ire and fear. This sentiment will come back to haunt the surviving Ramon in the most unlikely of places, demonstrating that anger and prejudice can seep through barely visible cracks, infiltrate and corrode the most beautiful of relationships.

The performances – including the supporting actors – are very strong. The music score is subtle: it never dilutes saccharine into the well-paced story. Elements of local culture become an integral part of the story in the final third of this 100-minute drama, when Ramon travels to Mito and attempts to reconnect with his relatives. This is where his urbanite identity reconnects with his indigenous roots. This is also where the generational gap becomes more prominent. Ramon’s indigenous cousin is roughly of his age. She has a very cosmopolitan haircut, and questions her relative about bis “boyfriend” with sincere and casual affection. His uncles are a lot sterner, and never make a direct allusion to the love that dare not speak its name.

Without resorting to easy romantic tropes and facile conclusions, this international co-production of three countries provides a study of two generations torn by poor communication and trauma. A mysterious photograph and an ambiguous revelation suggest that father and son may have shared a lot more than our protagonist imagined. A very powerful scene – both aesthetically and symbolically – involving a traditional wooden mask and a very curious type of redemption provides the icing on the cake of this flavoursome story. A little gem of humanistic filmmaking.

Ramon y Ramon just premiered in the 72nd edition of the San Sebastian International Film Festival. Fifty-four-year-old Salvador Del Solar is a prolific Peruvian actor, and this is only the second time he takes the film director’s seat. Hopefully it won’t be the last.