Liz en septiembre is an important film not for being early in the industry when it comes to portraying LGBTQ relations, but for portraying them honestly, believably, and not as a form of eye candy. While the wager contesting whether Liz will be able to seduce Eva within three days would normally make their relationship seem more forced, it's the polarity between Liz and Eva—as well as their shared solace over cancer—that cultivates a sort of oppositional bonding and makes possible the relationship between a lesbian and "buga". The resulting love is not always so mutual, but it's fostered by respect and adoration, and therefore it translates into a natural one, one that is not played for male viewership but rather for emotional inclusion with the audience.
One of the more enjoyable aspects of the film is its use of music. One should never underestimate a good soundtrack, and Liz en septiembre's selective application of non-flashy songs really complements some of the more emotional or thoughtful scenes. Even when there is little going on, we can collectively experience Liz and Eva's feelings by listening to their internal playlist. Without getting too philosophical, music and audio are some of the most affecting qualities of filmmaking and, in my opinion, make movies more memorable than any imagery.
This film is also commendable for how it handles the acceptance of mortality and the grieving process, for all parties before and after Liz dies. While cancer is universally a shock to its victims and their friends and family, the truth that Liz will die of cancer is not an emotional gut-punch; it induces a slow, burning dread that not only are her days numbered (let not that phrasing go unrecognized as Liz counts how long she can hold her breath underwater) but that we, perhaps against our better judgment, will miss her, that we have rooted ourselves in Eva and the other women's attachments to her. It's not a fear that we will lose her, but that we will suffer at having been there with her and her friends as she passes, ripping out the ties we have to her as she leaves. It's not sadness over death. It is grieving over experiencing someone's life with them, yet not experiencing enough. For that reason, the bonds are as real for us as they are for everyone around Liz.
A profoundly moving and involving movie, the waters of Liz en septiembre are worth braving to learn and feel like in no other film.
One of the more enjoyable aspects of the film is its use of music. One should never underestimate a good soundtrack, and Liz en septiembre's selective application of non-flashy songs really complements some of the more emotional or thoughtful scenes. Even when there is little going on, we can collectively experience Liz and Eva's feelings by listening to their internal playlist. Without getting too philosophical, music and audio are some of the most affecting qualities of filmmaking and, in my opinion, make movies more memorable than any imagery.
This film is also commendable for how it handles the acceptance of mortality and the grieving process, for all parties before and after Liz dies. While cancer is universally a shock to its victims and their friends and family, the truth that Liz will die of cancer is not an emotional gut-punch; it induces a slow, burning dread that not only are her days numbered (let not that phrasing go unrecognized as Liz counts how long she can hold her breath underwater) but that we, perhaps against our better judgment, will miss her, that we have rooted ourselves in Eva and the other women's attachments to her. It's not a fear that we will lose her, but that we will suffer at having been there with her and her friends as she passes, ripping out the ties we have to her as she leaves. It's not sadness over death. It is grieving over experiencing someone's life with them, yet not experiencing enough. For that reason, the bonds are as real for us as they are for everyone around Liz.
A profoundly moving and involving movie, the waters of Liz en septiembre are worth braving to learn and feel like in no other film.