Slow: a quietly radical portrayal of asexuality

“You’re unlike anyone I know,” a young brunette looks up at the man in front of her, her eyes wide and glistening. At the beginning of Marija Kavtaradzė’s film Slow, Elena (Greta Grinevičiūtė) has known Dovydas (Kęstutis Cicėnas) for a few days, but it only takes a second to predict their romance. Whenever the two exchange glances, the close-ups suggest a promise. Elena’s declaration, also serving as Slow’s original Lithuanian title, perfectly captures the tender-hearted nature of the film. Dovydas replies to her hopeful gaze with an apology: “I’m asexual, sorry,” he mutters. Her initial dismay softens into curiosity; so begins their love story. 

Kavtaradzė shows deep empathy for her characters: her debut, Summer Survivors (2018) focused on mental health struggles during a road trip, while Slow accompanies Elena and Dovydas on an inward journey of mutual discovery. For her second feature, the Lithuanian writer-director presents a relationship as a world of its own. Without the heteronormative roadmap to follow, these two people – one experiences sexual attraction (Elena is allosexual) and the other does not (Dovydas is asexual) – must build a new kind of intimacy as if it was a home to dwell in. 

Slow does not consider asexuality a bump in the road to true coupledom and what feels fresh (radical even) is the care and attention with which the film portrays their differences. Elena, being a professional dancer, relates to the world more carnally while Dovydas – the sign-language interpreter who facilitates her classes – relies more on language. Cinematographer Laurynas Bareiša prefers to frame them apart, his handheld camera swaying softly as if inhaling and exhaling in rhythm with the couple. Shot on luscious 16mm, Slow radiates the glow of a late-summer afternoon when Vilnius, Lithuania’s capital, is at its most beautiful, while the colour palette feels warm and fuzzy. Whenever Elena and Dovydas look at each other in the same frame, be it on the street, in a park, or in bed, the camera lingers on the space between them. 

Since asexuality – defined by a lack of sexual attraction – is perceived as largely invisible, films about it seem deprived of desire’s more conventional signifiers. But even when Elena and Dovydas kiss or have sex, this is not where their intimacy blooms. Like the film’s internal rhythm of long takes and rapid cuts, their love also ebbs and flows. Slow maps out desires and dreams through minute glances, gestures, and silences. Watching it feels like falling in love.  

► Slow is in UK cinemas now.