The mid-90s were defined by a specific aesthetic of love: it was often tragic ( William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet ), supernatural ( The Crow: City of Angels , My Friend the Devil ), or illicit ( The English Patient , The Leading Man ).
In 1996, the lines between horror and romance were blurred in Hong Kong cinema. My Friend the Devil was not a terrifying fright-fest; rather, it was a melancholic exploration of love that transcends death. The film’s atmosphere—filled with green-tinted lighting, misty graveyards, and a synthesizer-heavy soundtrack—is pure 90s nostalgia. mon amour film 1996
In the canon of queer European cinema, the 1990s were defined by overt political confrontation (e.g., The Hours and Times , The Living End ). However, João Pedro Rodrigues took a subtler, more phenomenological approach in his graduation film from the Escola Superior de Teatro e Cinema. Mon Amour strips narrative to its barest element: a man (played by Rodrigues himself) spots a handsome, unnamed worker on a metro platform and follows him through the city. The film’s genius lies not in what happens—no dialogue, no sexual act, no confession—but in how it looks . Through prolonged takes, reflective surfaces, and a haunting electronic score, Rodrigues interrogates the ethics of desire as a form of silent surveillance. The mid-90s were defined by a specific aesthetic
The plot centers on , a mid-thirties sound engineer who has become emotionally catatonic after the sudden death of his mother. His existence is a loop of sterile studio sessions and lonely meals in neon-lit bistros. Everything changes when he encounters Hélène (Julie Gayet) , a mysterious antiques restorer with a secret: she suffers from a rare, psychosomatic condition that makes her physically ill whenever she experiences genuine love. Mon Amour strips narrative to its barest element:
Critic Paul B. Preciado, in his writings on counter-sexual cinema, might argue that Rodrigues weaponizes duration. The film’s long, unbroken takes force the viewer to sit in the discomfort of the chase. We are complicit in this surveillance. By denying catharsis (no kiss, no confrontation, no rejection), Rodrigues rejects the narrative closure of mainstream gay cinema. The desire is not consummated; it is sustained as a pure, aching vector.