When a Hollywood starlet is found murdered, suspicion falls on her assistant.
That's about it in terms of plot, with the exception of a delightful little twist of an ending you can smell coming at least 30 minutes before. But the joys of Gemini lie not in a densely plotted mystery, thick characterizations, nor even much violence (or, for that matter, speed). Instead, this is the fairly rare neo-noir that is as classical as it is nouveau, as slow as it is engrossing, and as gorgeous as it is pretty.
We start with upside-down images of Los Angeles and a purplish sky, an atmospheric choice that perfectly sets the stage for the drama to come. Beautiful young leads are led by Zoë Kravitz as a young Heather, up-and-coming actress and social media icon, distracted in maneuvering out of a project she does not want to do. In the first sequence alone she (and we) encounter no less than four individuals who have motive to, well, at this point, strongly dislike Heather. Though distressed and apparently concerned enough about her own safety to ask her assistant Jill (played by Lola Kirke) for a gun, Heather remains calm in demeanor.
This informs the film as a whole. A dim film awash in bluesy music and purpley colors, we enter a world of dreams and celebrity where everything is face value and if it's not beautiful it doesn't belong. Interestingly, the characters seem most concerned not by murder itself, nor even the threat of it, but rather by surveillance and voyeurism; the first physical indication of a threat to Heather is in a fan who approaches her in a restaraunt, looking a bit too much like her idol, taking photos and asking deeply personal questions in a totally inappropriate fashion. Of course, this encounter happens in a trendy location, decorated to be hip and popular (if also overstylized and gaudy), where appetizers are aptly and repeatedly called "apps".
Given the title Gemini, it is worth noting too that the film engages head-on with all these themes through the device of doubling. Much like the Dioscuri Castor and Pollux, the two leading women are a nearly perfect pair, complete with shared fashion and home, mutual servitude and favor, dubious sexuality, all while one is famous and the other thrust unwillingly into the spotlight. I was reminded more than once of Ingrid Goes West with its creepy vibes and acute attention to bougie female millennial life. Questions of individuality, identity, and reality itself revolve in vague and unanswerable orbit around this tale of appropriated fame and inauthenticity.
And while it by no means complicates these ideas -- think of the possibilities of its racial and sexual dynamics -- Gemini knows full well what it's about. Not subverting or even really commenting. Simply depicting in an artful way, and suggesting that a cultural phenomenon (youthful fame mediated by media) deserves interrogation.
Oh, and John Cho is severely underused as the detective. That's all.
IMDb: Gemini (2018)
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