I wallow through a lot of slop for Netflix. The only reason I keep paying for it is their reach, and ability to bring international cinema all over the world. My Dearest Senorita I only knew as a trailblazing LGBTQIA film in the 1970’s, but mostly just as a Wikipedia entry that was known for “boundary pushing” at the time. But without Netflix I would have never got a chance to FEEL how that film must have felt to the community it was serving. But, director Fernando G. Molina and writer Alana S. Portero, I felt it now, and am the better for it. Dang it, Netflix, I just can’t quit films like this. You got me again.
2026’s My Dearest Senorita updates the setting to 1999 Y2K. Adela (Elisabeth Martinez) is living a quiet, suppressed life in Pamplona Spain. Their mother Cruz (Nagore Aranburu) has kept Adela like this, terrified of their intersex birth. Adela lives for teaching kids, caring for their family, and their time talking to Padre Jose Maria (Paco Leon), the “effeminate” leader of the local church. A car crash opens Adela’s world up. They see an old classmate Santiago (Eneko Sagardoy) who has a crush on them. But, more importantly, Adela’s abuela (Maria Galiana) was in the crash too, and needs physical therapy. Enter Isabel (Anna Castillo), everything Adela isn’t: an effervescent wholly empathetic spirit who senses pain inside of Adela…and not just the tension from the crash.
Portero’s adapation of the 1970 trailblazer is magnificent. The writer has taken the bones of the story but is free from the taboos of the era, allowing the new version to be indebted to the original, but very much its own story. The societal obstacles are mostly decaying away by the late 1990s, letting Portero make the conflicts more insular, a journey of self discovery. Normality is the enemy here: trying to fit in, when there’s no possible way to do that in your own body, letting the fear win. The Y2K backdrop is a nice subtle touch: putting a sense of paranoia around something that ended up not being a big deal. Since intersex people have both male and female anatomy, My Dearest Senorita takes the time for Adela to explore both parts of themselves. The movie changes organically with Adela, then A.D.’s journey, as the barriers they put up around themselves come down, slowly but surely. In a life like theirs, you’ll leave people you love to break free, then find new people to love, on the road to everyone helping each other love themselves. The emotions are always first and foremost, as Portero makes Adela’s awakening replete with breakthroughs and setbacks, but always still moving forward, and very, very human, finding that sweet spot of specific to the character but somehow ubiquitous and relatable, nice job!
It helps when my dearest senorita is incredible. You have no choice but to root for Elisabeth Martinez, carrying the weight of the world throughout their entire body. Each little victory they experience is euphoric, and each setback is devastating, as you hope it doesn’t send them back to their prison of self loathing. Martinez gives two performances in one as this movie is two movies in one (clever, Alana), and excels at both, while keeping them grounded enough so you believe this is the same person despite the physical transformation. Fernando G. Molina surrounds Martinez with great Spanish actors to elevate their performance. If I had a religious leader like Paco Leon in my life, I might not be an atheist today. Effervescent, charming, and completely emotionally vulnerable, padre Jose Maria is the beacon of guiding light shining when Adela is at their darkest, ready to lead them back to the light. Patricia (Delphina Bianco) is also one of those wonderfully specific guides A. D. needs when at low points, clearly written by someone who knows the LGBTQIA world well. The other side of the coin is Nagore Aranburu, who captures how a mother’s love and fear can turn into something forlorn in the kids. She’s strict, but only knows how to live this way. Love interest Anna Castillo flirts way too closely with writer fantasy, but that’s the point of the character, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, just like Adela can’t.
So bring on another stupid true crime documentary, or badly CGI’ed action movie. If I get at least one to two My Dearest Senorita’s a month from you Netflix, I’ll keep coming back for more. Or if things get real bad, I’ll just log in on my best friend’s sister’s husband’s uncle’s account. Still the funniest account I heard someone was using.