Dreams Review: Michel Franco’s Cruel Sex-Driven Immigration Drama Goes For The Most Obvious of Targets

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Michel Franco’s film relies heavily on its political message to carry a short ninety-minute story. It portrays a complicated and unhealthy relationship between Jennifer (Jessica Chastain), a wealthy woman involved in the arts, and Fernando (Isaac Hernández), a talented ballet dancer from Mexico City. The film explores how the very rich can exploit undocumented immigrants, though it does so in a somewhat awkward and clumsy way.

Director Michel Franco often tackles intense, class-based conflicts in his films. While his previous work, like New Order, explored an uprising from a wealthy viewpoint, it left his political stance ambiguous. Dreams is more direct, but its story, told through the eyes of a privileged white woman, struggles to evoke sympathy. Despite the beautiful costumes worn by Jessica Chastain, the film lacks compelling intrigue or significant social commentary, ultimately relying on shock value with its unnecessarily harsh conclusion.

Dreams Reifies The Very Violence of the American Dream It Means To Criticize

Jennifer and Fernando have been having a secret affair for a while. They come from very different worlds – not only is there a significant age difference, but also a huge gap in their wealth. Their relationship is intense and fueled by a dynamic of control and flirtation. It largely depends on Jennifer using her private jet to visit him, claiming she’s going to the academy in Mexico City. When Fernando visits her, he has to be discreet and travel at night, as he was previously deported from New York in 2013.

It’s hard to say whether it was love, attraction, or simply taking advantage of the situation, but Fernando is driven to risk everything to reach Jennifer. He travels across Texas and hitchhikes to San Francisco, hoping to surprise her. However, he soon realizes Jennifer only wants to keep their relationship hidden, unwilling to acknowledge him publicly due to her prominent social life. Hurt, Fernando ends the relationship, which unexpectedly leads to a chain of events that ultimately put him in the running for the lead role at the San Francisco Ballet.

Jennifer is a wealthy woman who isn’t accustomed to being manipulated, and she’s willing to jeopardize her career to win back Fernando. She runs an arts foundation with her brother, Jake, and financial support from their father, Michael. Though she appears to be the only one in her family who genuinely cares about immigrant rights, it becomes increasingly apparent that her wealth hides a deep-seated prejudice. While the McCarthy Foundation publicly claims to help those in need, Jake privately complains about assisting people who aren’t American, and Jennifer consistently uses translation apps when speaking to anyone from Mexico.

Franco’s film is refreshingly straightforward, clearly arguing that the wealthy only care about immigrants when they can take advantage of them. The film avoids unnecessary details and follows a very linear, scene-by-scene structure. However, its message is extremely direct and unsubtle – it couldn’t be more obvious if it tried.

Because most undocumented immigrants are intimidated without ever directly encountering someone as privileged as Jennifer, the film feels strangely both over-the-top and insignificant. Franco aims to highlight the unequal power dynamic between people at opposite ends of the social ladder, but he relies on a rather unbelievable story and unusual locations to do so.

This doesn’t make the movie bad, but it’s designed to elicit familiar reactions instead of deep thought. The film’s display of wealth – Chastain traveling with luxury brands and a chauffeur while her partner is stuck in a poor, rural area – feels heavy-handed. Similarly, the ending raises doubts about the soundness of Franco’s core ideas.

The film’s camera simply observes as the strange story unfolds, but beyond Franco’s frustration, there isn’t much that truly grabs your attention, and even his anger doesn’t feel pressing. While the American Dream often seems outdated and ironic today, the director’s harsh treatment of the people in his film ironically reinforces the very ideas he’s trying to critique.

Dreams releases theatrically on February 27th, 2026.

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2026-02-24 17:08