Directed by Bill Condon, Kiss of the Spider Woman revisits familiar, yet compelling, material. The film is based on the poignant 1976 novel by Argentine writer Manuel Puig, which concerns two prison cellmates during Argentina’s 1970s and early 1980s dictatorship: Valentín, a revolutionary held for conspiracy, and Molina, a homosexual imprisoned for “degenerate behavior.” A bond forms between them that progressively blurs the boundaries of identity and sexuality. While the gay man retells stories from his favorite movies, the revolutionary challenges these fantasies with socialist rhetoric. What Valentín doesn’t suspect is that Molina is an informant, whose freedom and safety depend on the secrets he can extract from his cellmate.

The novel has remained as fresh and relevant as it was when it was published, even if its queer edge no longer feels as radical. It’s been adapted countless times—in theater and, most famously, in Hector Babenco’s 1985 film, which earned William Hurt an Oscar for his portrayal of the flamboyant gay protagonist, and in the 1993 Broadway musical by John Kander and Fred Ebb.

Whereas in the 1985 film, the diva from Molina’s stories was an ethereal, surreal presence (embodied by Sonia Braga), the musical turned her into a far more essential character. Jennifer Lopez’s long-held dream of leading a musical explains why this adaptation has finally been made for film. In a double (or triple?) role, Lopez plays both Aurora—the main character played by Molina’s favorite movie star—and the sensual, monstrous Spider Woman, who embodies the deep fears and desires of Molina’s childhood. As a performer who has maintained a consistent career as both a pop star and film actress, it is a surprise that this is indeed her first musical film role.

Condon has earned his place among Hollywood’s reliable directors for handling musicals, and this is his best film since Dreamgirls, even if it takes a while to find its groove and polish some of the rougher edges. The setup allows Condon’s vision to soar, balancing gritty social drama and escapist fantasy. The story remains intact: During the military dictatorship, Valentín (Diego Luna) shares a cell with Molina (Tonatiuh), who is pressured to gain the revolutionary’s trust and extract information. Molina doesn’t care much for politics, unlike Valentín, but he loves classic Hollywood movies, especially the musicals. To him, those films, which he admits are imperfect and excessive, surpass anything modern cinema and its method-acting stars have to offer. (He dismisses Raging Bull.)

Molina’s nightly retelling of his favorite films to a once-indifferent, but increasingly intrigued, Valentín provides the perfect excuse to contrast the grim reality of prison life—where officers interrogate and torture political prisoners—with colorful, exuberant scenes from the movies he narrates. It’s reminiscent of Scheherazade and One Thousand and One Nights. These sequences give Lopez the opportunity to perform most of the musical numbers while also allowing Luna and Tonatiuh to appear as characters within those fantasies, so they sing and dance as well. Reality and fantasy also merge through dreams and hallucinations, induced by food poisoning or morphine. The musical dimension grows stronger as we become absorbed by the slow-burn romance and friendship between the two male leads.

Kiss of the Spider Woman offers serviceable showstoppers for Lopez and Tonatiuh to shine, including the torchy title song near the end. Condon draws inspiration from the MGM golden age era for the genre, mainly channeling the spirit of Vincente Minnelli—with nods to films like Yolanda and the Thief or the more expressionistic sequences of The Bandwagon. One dance sequence between Lopez and Tonatiuh matches the intensity of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse together. Though Lopez is a stronger performer than vocalist, her unmistakable movie-star aura and extraordinary dancing skills more than compensate. Even so, her singing sounds heartfelt and moving. Nothing describes her better than Molina’s line of adoration about the singer/actress he loves: “Hollywood has tried to Americanize her, but she’s always Latin.”

While Lopez’s magnetism and Luna’s tenderness keep us invested in the film’s gritty and imagined worlds, it’s Tonatiuh’s performance that truly captivates. The actor delivers a breakthrough performance that positions him among the year’s most remarkable discoveries. The treatment of Valentín and Molina’s relationship evolves into an absorbing gay romance. The intimacy they share—both physical and emotional—is anything but shy. Compared to the 1985 version, the element of homophobia is toned down, while Valentín’s genuine affection for his cellmate is made more explicit.

Kiss of the Spider Woman honors and lives up to an enduring literary work. Lopez’s dream come true gives her a chance to unleash all her superstar powers—both musical and cinematic—in one of the best films and roles of her career. At the same time, it introduces a new star in Tonatiuh. However, the absence of truly indelible songs remains and the political-historical dimension seems sanitized compared to Babenco’s film. But any shortcomings are quickly forgiven thanks to the final 30 minutes, an emotional roller coaster that reaffirms how a musical and melodrama can reach majestic artistic heights when all the right elements align.