Ira Sachs has been around since his 1997 debut “The Delta,” but he had an artistic breakthrough after directing the indie trifecta of “Keep the Lights On” (2012), “Love Is Strange” (2014), and “Little Men” (2016).
His follow-up was 2019’s much-maligned Cannes competition title “Frankie,” and then he premiered, at Sundance 2023, the best film of his career: “Passages.” This was a return to form for the American indie filmmaker, the plot, set in Europe, concerning three Parisian adults caught up in a sultry love triangle.
Sachs is now back, for the second time in Cannes competition, with “The Man I Love.” This time, Rami Malek is at its center. The Oscar winner plays Jimmy George, a gay actor living in 1980s New York while quietly carrying AIDS, although nobody explicitly says it. We just know. He’s recently almost died, intubated in hospital, now somewhat recovered, keeping things going on several medications, and rehearsing a performance piece that always feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. As his health begins to deteriorate, and his mind with it, a collapse feels inevitable.
Around him are the people who orbit and absorb his volatility: his partner Dennis (Tom Sturridge), who has essentially moved in as caretaker, and—this feels like part of the point of the title—he loves Jimmy even while fully aware that Jimmy is sleeping with Vincent (Luther Ford), the younger obsessively smitten neighbour who’s repeatedly warned away because the risk is too high.
Malek gives what might be the best performance of his career. Everything about Jimmy feels carefully detailed, like he’s physically holding himself together through sheer force of will. Malek plays him like someone constantly performing, even when no one is watching. Sometimes his acting tics verge toward overacting, but here the excess fits — Jimmy is a theatrical person to his core.
Sachs and Malek never turn Jimmy into a tragic martyr, though. He’s selfish, impulsive, seductive, frustrating — and that’s exactly what makes the film feel so alive.
The film is filled with musical cues. Characters sing, casually and often, and performance runs through everything, including a brief but memorable appearance from Rebecca Hall as Jimmy’s sister, who can’t quite accept how sick he is because he still seems so full of life. There’s a late scene in “The Man I Love” where Jimmy, at a family gathering, sings Melanie’s 1970 song “What Have They Done to My Song Ma,” and it becomes the film’s unexpected emotional peak.
Like most Sachs films, it sneaks up on you. It doesn’t build toward grand catharsis; it just watches people make messy, contradictory choices. The texture is loose, almost observational — less like constructed scenes than fragments of life. By the end, it feels like you’ve spent 90 minutes eavesdropping on real lives.