Aviva

Aviva

“Aviva” is a shape-changing, liquid film more of dance than narrative; it’s strange from beginning to end and often captivating, too thanks to writer-director Boaz Yakin’s (“Remember the Titans,” “Uptown Girls”) drive to establish an imaginative visual conversation about coupledom, sex (the upfront, uninhibited and genuinely sexy kind) and gender, by creating a freewheeling body language for love as he knows it. The cast is all dancers, and there’s something daringly private and psychological in this new work about the many sides of romantic relationships.

At its best moments, “Aviva” which is full of dancing and sex can be as freeing and alluring as picturing a bright silk scarf fluttering in the wind over a speeding convertible. But at its most self-indulgent and there are many such moments here Yakin’s experiment feels like sitting in traffic. At least he knows that’s what he’s doing with us, so we can allow ourselves to get a little lost down in the messy muck of domestic commitment.

I mean, what love affair or long-term partnership that seems perfect from far away isn’t at least a little bit bewildering and untidy when you’re up close? With that much established pretty early on Yakin starts gently enough with one-half of his central couple being in New York while the other is in Paris; then he moves them around together through space and time until they eventually settle into the same place-space-time continuum thing he roams them joyously through New York City streets together before finally plopping them down side by side on some bed sheets.

The romance between Parisian Aviva (the redheaded half played mostly by Zina Zinchenko) and New Yorker Eden (brought believably to life by Tyler Phillips) ignites online. Maybe they fall hard for each other so fast because they put their most intimate thoughts and feelings into written words first, old-school style maybe it’s the old-fashioned letters they open up to each other with.

But wait is this really a “pair”? Buñuel’s “That Obscure Object of Desire” inspired Yakin to split each character into masculine and feminine halves; that’s the whole movie. So Aviva is played madly by Zinchenko (her male half) and Or Schraiber (his female side), while Smith (the film’s choreographer) plays Eden’s female offshoot: a muscular, sensual creature with a touch of impatience/frustration about not getting fully cuddled by Eden.

Anyone who’s been in a long-term relationship before will understand this split, the fear of not being able to sleep with your partner. At this level Yakin is successful at gendering Aviva and Eden’s constant push-and-pull, but only semi-successful. It will tell an observant viewer (and Yakin does demand concentration) a lot about what roles each character plays in the film’s various threesomes, which one of them is more confident anywhere outside bed, let alone inside it (hint: it’s Aviva), and what not being able to fully embrace his supposedly feminine side does to Eden.

These harmonies, contrasts and growing conflicts are most clear when the couple goes apartment hunting for the first time together; starts building themselves as a unit among other talented dancers at their company; finds out how often they can have sex without getting too tired or sore; and creates some semblance of routine within their shared space.

But then things get messy alternate egos start crowding nearer to center stage until they’re performing entire scenes by themselves and it becomes hard to know where one character ends and another begins. This growing ambiguity, along with some admittedly stiff spoken exchanges between actors who clearly excel at flexing muscle rather than delivering lines, unfortunately dulls emotional impact.

In other words: “Aviva” isn’t an acting showcase like “Marriage Story,” but it also doesn’t want to be. There’s a different kind of boldness here that transports one minute you’re watching “Frances Ha,” and the next you’re sitting through the sumptuously staged “Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812.” With playful costumes that wink at audience members’ nostalgia for ’90s fashion (whether we lived those years ourselves or just saw enough reruns), a production design that mirrors Aviva’s own multicolored sketchbook and an adoring eye for naked bodies that feels empowering rather than predatory, Yakin earns our attention and affection for “Aviva” even when the movie seems to be pushing us away.

What sticks with you most are the airy interiors, dexterous tracking shots following love-struck Aviva and Eden as they dance separately through New York and Paris, and beautifully choreographed set-pieces in subway cars, bars and wedding parties. It’s beguiling stuff.

Watch Aviva For Free On Gomovies.