Kill the Jockey

The screenplay... is light on queer theory or even character motivation. But the comely cast, who contribute admirably athletic, physical performances across the board, have enough charisma and vigor to keep this not-especially-long film jaunty.

Silly, shambolic, and sincere, Kill the Jockey feels like the cinematic equivalent of throwing spaghetti at the wall: not all of it sticks, and some of it is overdone, but there is something charming about the wilfulness of doing it at all.

Awash with kooky gags and bolstered by the strange, soulful presence of leading man Nahuel Pérez Biscayart, it’s fun but flighty, liable to throw some viewers from the saddle.

It’s too skimpy and self-conscious, more a series of gestures than an organic whole. But Ortega frames his action with a delicious high style, interspersing tense standoffs with formal dance sequences.

Like its magnetic central character, the entertaining latest from Luis Ortega is fascinating: a playful, shape-shifting, questioning journey that refuses to be neatly pinned down.

An elusive and sometimes frustrating watch. It elides interpretation in ways both intentional and undercooked, flirts with a greatness that isn’t fully earned, yet it has some glorious moments and never unseats the viewer.

Kill the Jockey is a thousand films in one, an absolutely imperfect and inhomogeneous mix, but at the same time it doesn't want to pretend to be anything else or apologize to anyone along the way. [Full review in Spanish]

There's no underlying reflection here, no truly consistent subtext, no dramatic conflict that stands alone. The film doesn't seem to be about anything. [Full review in Spanish]

A party that lacks absolutely nothing. [Full review in Spanish]

A surreal, sexy, beautifully shot and acted film, Kill the Jockey is an exquisite, aching tale of bodily autonomy, longing, and transformation.