Goyo 2024 Movie Review
Goyo (Furtado) holds his breath at the bottom of the pool. For a long time. So long, his coach bangs on the rail to rouse him to the surface. Is this symbolic? Has to be. Does Goyo feel like he’s drowning? Maybe – but that’s a bit extreme, a bit of a stretch. More likely, the scene, you know, metaphorizes his isolation. He has Asperger’s. He looks to be in his 30s. His mannerisms are stiff and he counts the stairs on the stairway and if he misses a step he goes back and resteps and recounts. He lives with his famous concert-pianist sister Saula (Soledad Villamil) in her posh home, and has a chef brother, Matute (Pablo Rago); they take care of him. Goyo has a deep appreciation for art, which makes him perfect for his job as a tour guide at the fine arts museum. He especially loves Van Gogh, and paints in a similar impressionistic style.
On his way to work one rainy morning, Goyo spots Eva (Duplaa) across the street, fighting with her broken umbrella. She closes her eyes, exasperated, and tilts her head back ever so slightly as the rain patters her face. Goyo soon learns that she’s his co-worker, a new security guard at the museum. That evening, he’ll remember that shot of Eva in the rain and set up his canvas. Saula looks at his work and notes that it’s been a while since he’s painted – four years and seven months, he says, with exacting precision, as he brushes an outline of Eva’s face.
Cut to Eva, who’s 50ish and, as we soon find out, muddling through a difficult transition. We follow her home from work, where she sees her sons Cuti (Balthazar Murillo), a teenager, and grade-schooler Tato (Zeus Milo); when her husband Miguel (Diego Alonso), fresh out of jail, comes to beg his way back into her good graces, she sends him packing. The next day, Goyo does the following of Eva home from work, down the museum steps, into the subway, onto the train. She sees him leering at her, but he doesn’t realize how creepy he comes off. She doesn’t see him moments later when he suddenly feels overwhelmed by the people and the sounds in the crowded train, and slumps to the ground, just barely maintaining his composure.
Goyo asks for advice from Matute, who suggests that Goyo should talk to Eva honestly, apologize, and explain how he didn’t mean to upset her. He does just that, and she’s a little bit charmed and flattered by his forthright, awkward manner. Better than that, she seems to understand his social challenges. After work, circumstance – train delays, sigh – puts her in an outdoor cafe across from Goyo, sharing a carafe of lemonade and some conversation. Goyo seems incapable of mincing his words or lying even a little bit, which is nice when he’s being complimentary, but a bit odd when he’s correcting your grammar. Eva rolls with it, though, and she pecks him on the cheek at the end of their impromptu “date” and Goyo goes home and lays in bed and scrolls through her Instagram and puts his hand down his pants. He’ll soon have an amusingly unvarnished conversation with Matute about erogenous zones. He’ll soon ask Eva to come over for dinner. When Saula is away. And that painting is just waiting to be discovered, isn’t it?
There’s enough nuance and sensitivity in Duplaa and Furtado’s performances to make this complicated, occasionally funny, occasionally touching romantic drama functional. Furtado’s portrayal of Goyo is matter-of-fact without being cloying, and Duplaa’s characterization is quietly underscored with trepidation, curiosity and earnest affection for this man. Eva is the film’s strongest dramatic force, and the screenplay wisely never overstates who she is or why she makes these decisions, instead letting Duplaa quietly embed the character’s kindness in her actions. Eva sees past the immediate dramatics of the situation to find the beauty in connection. She maybe has a lot to learn about Goyo, but she’s open to it, and never comes off condescending or pitying.
The subtle endearment Furtado and Duplaa foster occasionally seems under fire from Carnevale’s direction, which struggles with tonal inconsistency. He bookends the film with overwrought melodrama, using slo-mo as a grossly unsubtle means to emphasize emotion. While our leads find some natural chemistry during the film’s rock-solid middle hour – amidst some admittedly mawkish overtures, e.g., that painting – Carnevale seems to believe the story calls for soap-opera histrionics. If he’d step aside and let his actors bear the burden, Goyo might be a stronger film. As it is, it’s never unwatchable, occasionally funny without being forced, and generally tender and sweet.
