'Daniela Forever' review: Nacho Vigalondo's latest lacks magic (2024)

To understand the range of Spanish filmmaker Nacho Vigalondo, you only need to look at his two most popular feature films: Timecrimes and Colossal. The first, his feature-length directorial debut, is a 2007 sci-fi horror thriller that follows an average man plagued by a scissor-wielding masked stranger. The second is the blistering 2016 Anne Hathaway comedy that had the Oscar–winning movie star playing a human trainwreck who accidentally manifests a dangerous kaiju over Seoul. At first glance, these two films have little in common, aside from being very strange and very satisfying. But at their core is a thrillingly verve, a gnarly plot twist, and a dark sense of humor that shows a profound understanding of the complexity of humanity.

My appreciation for both of these films is why I approached Vigalondo's latest, Daniela Forever, with giddy anticipation. Written and directed by Vigalondo, this romantic drama centers on a handsome DJ named Nicolás (Crazy Rich Asians' Henry Golding), who is grieving the death of his girlfriend Daniela (Beatrice Grannò). But a scientific trial involving lucid dreaming could open a door to reconnect with her —on some level.

Though clearly heartfelt, Daniela Forever lacks the energy and spirit of Vigalondo's very best. What he delivers instead is a maudlin slog.

Daniela Forever wallows in a glum aesthetic.

To reflect how pale and miserable Nicolás' life feels without Daniela, Vigalondo captures his waking world on grimy-looking 16mm stock. The 4:3 aspect ratio feels claustrophobic, the colors all muddy and muted. It's effective in establishing Nicolás' point of view, but as this dour aesthetic comprises much of Daniela Forever's runtime, it's also spiritually exhausting. Much of the film's expositional dialogue — establishing his friends, the sleep experiment, and who Daniela was — are all caked in this murkiness. It's actually hard to endure this first act, which is ruthlessly steeped in self-loathing and visual muck.

Notably, the official stills released are from Nicolás' dream world, where colors are vibrant, the aspect ratio is much wider, Daniela is alive, and the hero is basically untouchable, adored by all and swatting off cars like flies. The experimental pills allow him to slip into a state of sleep, where he has control over his dream and over his dream version of Daniela —at least at first.

Daniela Forever's big twist is pretty obvious.

Like the literal dream girls ofEternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Ruby Sparks, Daniela eventually begins to rebel against her conceptual prison. At first, she is a flurry of smiles and twee outfits with nary a whisper of complaint. But this bubbly illustrator begins to feel confused and confined by a world made from her boyfriend's limited imagination. Then, when he's awake, it seems she exists in his absence, beyond the bounds of his expectations. Essentially, even when dead, she has a life of her own. Here's where the plot takes the Vigalondo turn, where the hero becomes a villain by hobbling the memory of this Daniela to suit his own needs.

This isn't near the mindfucks offered in either Timecrimes or Colossal, because the turn is telegraphed early on by the way he speaks of Daniela. In his dreams, she is less a person than a collection of sunny memories. This leaves Grannò to play a pretty marionette for much of the movie, before being pitched into fits of slippery sadness. Considering how smartly complicated and cruelly funny Vigalondo wrote Colossal's harried heroine for Hathaway, I'd assume Daniela is purposefully written as if dreamed up by a manchild who struggles to understand women's inner lives. Thematically, this makes sense, as part of grieving is an idealization of the dead, glossing over their flaws to focus on the gloriousness that is lost.

In that, Vigalondo might be grappling with a stage of grief that is distinctly destructive —not just to the mourner but also to the memory of the lost loved one. And that's interesting. It might even explain a frenetic third act that abruptly barrels into a string of twists that I'm still not convinced add up to any sense. But even in the messy messaging, you can feel Vigalondo's earnestness to communicate about the self-destruction inherent in grieving. And even as I can respect that pursuit, I can't connect to the execution here. And a big part of why is Golding.

Henry Golding is not the leading man Daniela Forever needed.

Famously, Golding shot to stardom because of an open casting call to find the romantic lead in 2017's Crazy Rich Asians. He was undeniably dashing as that rom-com's big-hearted and handsome heir Nick. He's gone on to play the beguiling husband/boyfriend in the comedic thriller A Simple Favor, the outrageously plotted holiday rom-com Last Christmas, and the Netflix adaptation of Jane Austin's Persuasion. He also served well as a smoldering action figure in Snakes Eyes and The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. But in Daniela Forever, Golding is in over his head.

This surreal drama demands moments of internal reflection, odious yearning, outright weeping, and a flurry of conflicting feelings playing out fast and furious as Nicolás struggles with a climactic choice of how this story might end. When Nicolás needs only to be smooth and charming, Golding excels. But overall, his performance lacks nuance, ranging from flat to false. So scenes meant to be devastating feel at best awkward, like watching a child pitch a tantrum in a grocery store aisle.

I take no pleasure in writing this review. I root for Vigalondo, whose films feel deeply personal, as if you're having a long, thrilling conversation with the man himself. In the past, he's created protagonists who are a exciting blend of "bad" and "good," carving out narratives unique and enthralling. But this one feels lost in thought, as if Vigalondo has forgotten his audience. His intentions might be guessed at, but the vision is unclear. His characters feel like signifiers, not people. And his cast can't shoulder the script convincingly. Ultimately, Daniela Forever seems like the sleep experiment at its center: well intentioned, but more bewildering than illuminating.

Daniela Forever was reviewed out its World Premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival. The movie has subsequently made its U.S. Premiere at Fantastic Fest.