The ‘Colossal’ helmer’s latest revolves around a heartbroken man who joins a trial drug program that reunites him with his deceased girlfriend in his dreams.

After the death of his girlfriend Daniela (The White Lotus’ Beatrice Grannò), Nicolas (Henry Golding of Crazy Rich Asians), the protagonist of Nacho Vigalondo’s Daniela Forever, falls into a deep depression. Grief fogs daily life — slowing time and muting once pleasurable activities. Piles of clothes and dirty dishes precariously stacked on kitchen surfaces measure his uneven motivation. The atmosphere is bleak and Nicolas, a DJ living in Madrid, feels trapped. So when the chance to find relief from his punishing memories presents itself, he is intrigued. 

Before Daniela Forever goes off the rails in a disappointing series of twists, it pulls us in with a visual style (cinematography by Jon D. Dominguez) that distinguishes it from others with a familiar premise — grief, dreams and the technology that can eliminate the first and realize the second. Nicolas’ reality is presented in a claustrophobic 4:3 aspect ratio and the muted, grainy aesthetics of an old-school camcorder. Vigalondo (who made 2016’s offbeat Anne Hathaway sci-fi Colossal) reverts to widescreen and sharper images for Nicolas’ dream world. Here, the colors are more vibrant and the mood appropriately verges on the uncanny. 

Vigalondo’s screenplay breezes through how Nicolas learns of this secret drug program and how he becomes a rogue patient. The researchers tell him that he must read specific prompts, written to conjure certain memories, before taking the pill. But after he spills water on one of the notecards, rendering it unreadable, Nicolas thinks about Daniela and finds himself preferring that dreamscape. To hide his actions, he lies during his daily interviews with the scientists. 

Most of Daniela Forever observes Nicolas moving between his reality and the dream world, avoiding one while fiending for the other. The beleaguered DJ spends his days waiting for night when he will be reunited with Daniela. The screenplay vaguely sketches the details of his waking life, but the real action takes place in his dream world. Although Vigalondo offers compelling ideas about the mechanics of lucid dreaming — how Nicolas controls scenes and what dream Daniela remembers — the director doesn’t do much else. There’s an aimlessness to the story, and a disappointing lack of stakes. Vigalondo teases some complicated threads of Nicolas’ personality, but never digs in. Instead, Daniela Forever resolves any tensions before they can ever be confronted. 

Golding and Grannò, who give fine performances, are underserved by this narrative approach. There are scenes when you can see Golding stretching the boundaries of his character, presenting his actions as the contorted decision-making of grief. Nicolas’ depression drives him to make dangerous choices that jeopardize his well-being, the study and eventually dream version of Daniela. But the actor’s efforts are stuck in a story seemingly disinterested in that kind of uncomfortable complexity.

Daniela Forever is a puzzling film that seems insecure in its own resolution. As Nicolas gets more turned around by the differences between his dreams and reality, so, too, does the film lose track of its purpose. And that doesn’t inspire much confidence — even for the most compliant of viewers.