Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Elisa and Marcela’ on Netflix, a Quasi-artsy Dramatization of Spain’s First-ever Same-sex Wedding

Elisa and Marcela is inspired by the remarkable true story of the controversial 1901 nuptials between Marcela Gracia Ibeas and Elisa Sanchez Loriga, hailed as the first same-sex marriage in Spain. The events dramatized are no doubt a significant event in LGBTQ history, but the film ultimately may be remembered more for That Scene With the Octopus.

ELISA AND MARCELA: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: A Coruna, Spain, 1898: Marcela (Greta Fernandez) walks through the rain to her first day at an all-girls Catholic school. She’s greeted by Elisa (Natalia de Molina), the headmaster’s niece, who welcomes her with a vigorous toweling-off. Marcela finds this incident so compelling, she forgets her umbrella again the next day.

After a visit or two by Elisa, Marcela’s parents sense what’s happening. Her father (Francesc Orella) is a rigid type who believes his daughter shouldn’t learn too much at school. Meanwhile, her timid, fearful mother (Maria Pujalte) hides a feminist book under her skirts, where it surely doesn’t make sitting, standing or walking at all comfortable, and gives it to her daughter. Then they ship poor Elisa off to boarding school.

But the sexual tension between Elisa and Marcela continues via the post, and, three years later, they’re reunited when they take elementary teaching jobs at schools near each other. The movie then alternates between incidents where the townsfolk sniff out and side-eye the lesbianism occurring in their wholesome country town, and steamy, but mostly kinda funny, sex scenes in which the two protagonists use milk, seaweed and a freshly dead octopus as foreplay apparatus.

The couple comes up with a solution to their ostracization: Elisa “goes away to Cuba,” but in reality comes back as “Elisa’s cousin Mario,” who has short hair, pants and a greasepaint mustache that’s approximately several hundred shades lighter than that of Groucho Marx. The local priest is fooled, and he marries them, and Marcela gets pregnant, but the local bigots see through the ruse. Soon enough, everything goes south, and Elisa and Marcela are forced to run, and weigh the costs of their forbidden love.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: What if Carol was based on a true story, historically significant and set in Spain — and swamped up that erotic hotel-room scene by dropping a rubbery mollusk into it?

Performance Worth Watching: Thanks to a nicely modulated nonverbal performance by Fernandez, there’s something going on behind Elisa’s eyes — she’s demure, but also quietly fearless in her passion. Other characters aren’t as well-drawn or executed. Her acting is earnest enough to keep Elisa and Marcela from being a full-blown guffaw-fest.

Memorable Dialogue: “I don’t believe in nuns,” Elisa says, in a scene where she admits to not believing in priests or God.

Single Best Shot: Dead octopi hang in the foreground, framing a shot of Elisa and Marcela having a romantic walk on the beach, and also foreshadowing a very weird thing that happens later in the film.

Sex and Skin: The principals and the octopus show plenty of themselves in some tepid, overly directed and self-consciously artsy sex scenes. And here I’ll go on the record as saying the use of said octopus during a naked makeout scene, even though it’s not as yucky as some of you might be imagining right now, is probably a poor artistic decision.

Our Take: Shooting in flat, expressionless black-and-white, director Isabel Coixet nurtures some significant sexual tension during the first act, which does a reasonable job of setting the narrative hook. But come the second act, the film becomes a cornball rolling downhill. Coixet assembles a love-letter montage in which the actresses directly address the camera; the “Mario” getup is amusingly unconvincing; the use of archival footage and throwbacky iris fadeouts are pointless and distracting flourishes.

Plot details also become sketchy: What happened to Marcela’s parents? Did they disown her? Are they dead? Why is the truth of Elisa’s family glossed over in two lines of dialogue? Is the swarthy creep who asked Marcela to a dance the father of her child? When did that happen, and why is it just barely implied? Was the original plan to make octopus soup, or what?

Our Call: SKIP IT. The real Elisa and Marcela deserve a better fictionalization of their unbelievable story than this flimsy, poorly plotted and dramatically clumsy quasi-art film.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Stream Elisa & Marcela on Netflix