‘Viva’ Cannes Review: A Tonally Wild Search for Feeling

A curious, odd, tonally off-kilter film, Viva is an unusual comedy about a woman who, after surviving breast cancer, begins to feel an urgent need to live life to the fullest: to chase intense emotions, take risks, and, above all, have sex. Inevitably, she finds herself caught up in a series of problems and farcical situations typical of a comedy of errors—though these don’t always sit comfortably alongside the film’s more serious concerns.

Lightness isn’t the issue here. On the contrary, it’s refreshing that Viva doesn’t present itself as a conventional cancer drama. What doesn’t quite work is the abruptness—and arbitrariness—of its tonal shifts, which at times veer into sequences that feel almost animated in their logic. More problematic still is the central relationship that emerges as the film’s main conflict, both narratively and in the life of Nora, the protagonist, played by the film’s own actress-director.

Another curious element is that the story unfolds in a near-future marked by drought, where companies—like the one Nora works for—experiment with technologies to extend human lifespan. Yet this thread never gains real narrative weight. The film opens with Nora undergoing tests that confirm her cancer is in remission, though there are still uncertainties to address. Caught between relief and lingering doubt, she spirals into a desire to overhaul every aspect of her life.

From there, the film centers on the relationship—more sexual than emotional—that she begins with a much younger man, the gym-going type who seems to communicate primarily through seduction. Nora lives with Tom (Naby Dakhli), a kind, steady partner who supported her through her most difficult years. But she no longer appears drawn to him—or to the sense of security he represents—and, despite the obvious risks, she throws herself into an affair with the twenty-something.

Viva piles on complications for its troubled yet oddly enthusiastic protagonist: difficulties returning to work, where she feels threatened by the employee who replaced her during her illness; physical lapses that put her health at risk (and have nothing to do with the cancer); family tensions with her father; bursts of pure slapstick; and, inevitably, a reckoning over what to do with her romantic life.

As a debut feature, it’s admirable that Clotet avoids formula and leans into a somewhat rocambolesque spirit, closer to certain strains of French comedy than to Spanish cinema (Catalan, more precisely, in this case). There’s a sense of ideas being thrown into the air just to see what sticks. The problem is that very few of them do. At times, the film feels like a string of increasingly desperate attempts to pull one rabbit after another out of the hat—yielding, at least for this viewer, only a few pleasant smiles amid a fair share of incredulous reactions. With time, and a sharper sense of aim, Clotet may well find a more effective voice. The talent is certainly there.