Sand Dollars

A soulful bachata bookends Israel C�rdenas and Laura Amelia Guzm�n's relentlessly unromantic love story "Sand Dollars." Sung in an opening close-up by the plaintive-voiced Ram�n Cordero, the song's first line, "I live in grief," coupled with Cordero's weary, sagging face, leaves no doubt about where we are headed. Shunning all of amour's heavenly guises, the married co-directors/co-writers instead prefer to strip this cherished state raw, revealing the selfishly aching, and mostly unfulfilled, needs that draw their characters together. As the poet once said, "the heart wants what it wants."

When it comes to obeying that heedless organ, Anne (Geraldine Chaplin), an elderly globetrotter trapped in a purgatory of her own making, is the movie's biggest loser, and she knows it. Estranged from her French family, Anne has spent the last three years living like a latter-day colonialist in Las Terrenas while hopelessly in love with Noeli (Yanet Mojica), a Dominican woman young enough to be her granddaughter. Although it is impossible to ignore their age gap, Anne tries her best; but, as she lies in bed with Noeli, the beautiful, taut arms and legs that captivate her senses also undermine any effort at self-delusion, especially when they are entwined with her own aging, spotted limbs.

Without a shred of vanity, Chaplin bravely offers up her body to the camera, letting Anne's physical vulnerabilities inform our understanding of her mental ones. Taking advantage of both, Noeli gives Anne what she desires in exchange for what means the most to her: frequent trips to the ATM. Noeli shares Anne's largesse with her cell phone-obsessed boyfriend, Yeremi (Ricardo Ariel Toribio), who encourages her to keep going back to the "old lady" for more.

But it is not necessarily fair to think of Noeli as a prostitute. C�rdenas and Guzm�n's smart and probing script is above making this sort of easy judgement. Sure, a rich, geriatric white woman's love is a means to a material end for Noeli, who, unlike the jetsetting Anne, needs to hustle to survive. But it is also possible that Noeli does, at least to some degree, love Anne, too. Unfortunately, age, race, and class, as they so often do, cloud the issue.

Mojica's largely inexpressive face suggests little about Noeli's true feelings, while Chaplin's striking features are essentially a portal to Anne's inner thoughts and struggles. Even when Anne and Noeli are seemingly happy together, Chaplin's pained eyes tell us that Anne cannot help but dread the inevitable. It is a remarkable performance.

This story is part of our special report: "Wicked Queer: Boston LGBTQ Film Festival". Want to read more? Here's the full list.