Laura Amelia Guzmán knows almost by chance the story of her uncle Jean Louis Jorge, one of the largest cult filmmakers in the Dominican Republic.
He undertakes, then, a search trip through the recesses of his identity, investigating the life and spirit of the filmmaker, contacting the few living friends of his circle and eyeing those projects that his premature death –Jean Louis Jorge was murdered in 2000– left unfinished.
It is precisely on these unfinished projects that Guzmán leans on, together with Israel Cárdenas, to direct La fiera and the party.
Even so, to say that the film is a reconstruction of Jorge's unfinished works - as stated by a plaque at the beginning - is to remain very short.
Starring Geraldine Chaplin, Holy Beats is a mamushka of realities and fictions framed with each other so subtly that they allow the film to pass in front of our eyes with the naturalness of the dreamlike, giving the head the fun of unraveling the threads of the plot, to distinguish what happens in the reality of the digesis, what is the fantasy. Not happy with the meta-film, the filmmakers use the dialogues as an anecdote of the real, put Jean Louis's friends to act and dig up footage from the 70s, creating a beautiful, kitsch and unique aesthetic.
Vera arrives in Santo Domingo beaten by the life, the film industry and the death of her intimate friend Jean Louis Jorge, to whom she dedicates, in French, deep thoughts that the film reflects in a voice over rather than successful.
Vera arrives in Santo Domingo with the intention of starring and directing “Water Follies”, a script about vampires and vedetes that Jean Louis writes before his death.
It is in these circumstances that he meets with Victor, the producer, Martin, the director of photography (both played by Jorge's real friends and teammates), and Henry, actor and friend choreographer.
With them, the project will be carried on their shoulders and they will also face the discomfort of death, oblivion and old age in scenes of a dye, perhaps, past a dramatic one, but ... are we not the filmmakers and the actors who are the last people of drama? I rest my case, Mr. Judge, and ditch that Holy Beats' performances are in tune with what they count.
The beauty of the narrative is accompanied by the aesthetic beauty of the audiovisual. The photography turns from a naturalism with a hand (high contrasts and saturated colors) to the explosion of neon lights in contexts sometimes justified and sometimes not, creating the atmosphere of kitsch terror that identifies the film. That atmosphere that, you might imagine, would create Jean Louis Jorge to be alive today.
In turn, these lighting changes help the mamushka effect of fictions within fiction that make Holy Beats the jewel that it is.
The climax is reached when in the middle of the precious confusion, from one take to the other, the matter becomes sinister; nostalgia goes to the background, vampirism takes a presence and this meta-film ends with a sweet, mystical and human taste.
Holy Beats is the dream of a summer night that runs pure, beautiful, poetic and paranormal in front of our eyes obscured by colors and symbolisms. The landscapes of the Dominican Republic become the perfect setting to honor a dead filmmaker, philosophize about cinema - the love of cinema, the ties that create us - and, why not, film a movie of whores and vampires.