“Monica” is a modern, gender-transitioning twist on the theme of the prodigal son. The film’s eponymous protagonist Monica (Trace Lysette, “Transparent”) is an unhappy transgender woman, who has lost contact with her birth family for reasons not explained to us at first. But we can guess.
In opening scenes, Monica tries to to contact a man named Jimmy for whom she expresses love. But we have a sense that the relationship is over. Monica, who has a lavish floral tattoo on her shoulder and neck, can be seen giving a man a massage and giving herself an injection of some sort. She is summoned by phone and drives for two days to return to her family in the Midwest to help with the care of her dying mother Eugenia (Patricia Clarkson), who is also losing her memory. Eugenia does not recognize Monica (Or does she?) as her former son. Monica’s brother Paul (Joshua Close), who is married to the likable Laura (Australian Emily Browning) and has three young children with her, claims that he would not recognize Monica on the street as his former brother. This sort of thing helps transform Monica into some sort of mysterious, gender-switching, Gothic/film noir femme fatale, and it turns the film into a kind of modern-day variation on “Out of the Past.”
Also in the home is her mother’s caregiver Leticia (Adriana Barraza). In an attempt to establish a kinship, Laura shows Monica wedding pictures of Laura wearing Eugenia’s wedding dress at her wedding to Paul. Laura refers to Monica as “Aunt Monica” in front of her kids. She seems to want to welcome Monica into the family. Monica has a pillbox that plays music. It’s some sort of family memento (there’s no payoff to this). On her own in her room, Monica makes videos that suggest she makes money performing for followers who pay to see her in sexy and nude poses.
More than a little of the content of “Monica,” which was directed and co-written by L.A.-based Italian filmmaker Andrea Pallaoro (“Hannah”) – and shot in the squarish Academy ratio – is vague to a fault. Monica can be seen wearing a Cocteau Twins T-shirt and spends a lot of time sweeping her hair out of her face. She rummages around in the old, upper-middle class home and finds expensive-looking jewelry to try on. Pallaoro is rightly obsessed with his lead’s strikingly Pre-Raphaelite face. The film is more of a mood piece than a narrative. Ironically, Monica and the still beautiful Eugenia grow closer as Eugenia’s condition worsens. But an acknowledgment that Eugenia recognizes Monica remains elusive.
In the title role, Lysette delivers a courageous, if also often opaque performance. Monica can have self-destructive impulses. In one graphic scene, she has sex with a stranger who picks her up in a bar. No knight in shining armor is showing up to sweep Monica off her feet, I’m afraid. I’m also afraid that I take issue with director Pallaoro’s use of awful Euro-rock music in some scenes. Clarkson is scary as the old woman losing herself in pain and forgetfulness. Eugenia is slipping down a very real rabbit’s hole. Eventually, we learn that Eugenia dropped the adolescent Monica off at a bus stop more than a decade earlier with the words, “I can’t be your mother anymore,” a ringing and familiar rejection for many members of the trans community, no doubt. But “Monica” does not rely on dialogue, something reinforced in the twist ending, which I found surprisingly endearing.
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'MONICA'
Grade: B+
MPA rating: R (for sexual content, nudity and language)
Running time: 1:46
How to watch: In theaters and VOD
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