et in Argentina in May of 1983, the South American country is in the grasp of a military dictatorship, waging war against its citizens. Some 30,000 have been killed or imprisoned, including Valentin (Diego Luna), who remains locked away and routinely interrogated for information about his fellow revolutionaries. Another convict, Luis (Tonatiuh), serving a short stint for an act related to his homosexuality, which the government frowns upon, is transferred to the political wing of the prison to share a cell with Valentin. It’s a curious arrangement, though it soon becomes apparent that Luis has been moved there on purpose, perhaps to extract information from Valentin that the authorities have so far been unable to.

Though they’re confrontational at the start, it isn’t long before the two find some common ground, despite one being flamboyant and talkative, and the other reserved and studious. In lieu of the entertainment to which Luis is accustomed, he offers to describe, in detail and scene by scene, the plot of his favorite film, “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” to his reluctant companion. It’s here that the drama transitions into a musical, as Luis’ descriptions of the fictional film’s premise segue into vivid Technicolor renditions, starring the character of Aurora (Jennifer Lopez) as she weighs true love against a cruel curse.

As a movie about movies – and a movie-within-a-movie – the harsh contrasts between the cold grays of the penitentiary and the bright hues of the fantasy play out nicely. Perfect makeup and glamorous costuming visually clash against grime and filth, as do elaborate dance numbers against physical torture, and cheery duets in luxurious spaces against the cramped conditions of captivity. And this is decent material to remodel, especially since the original award-winning adaptation (from Manuel Puig’s novel) from 1985 has dropped into relative obscurity, and the fact that oppressive regimes are, sadly, forever timely. But little has changed in the storytelling, save for softening up the finale, peppering some extra humor into exchanges, and adding songs, which occasionally generate vigor yet remain largely forgettable. There’s something continuously unfitting about the narrative blend of severe political drama and fluffy Hollywood musicals, regularly reflected in the pacing (at a few odd moments, it’s reminiscent of the dreadful “Joker: Folie à Deux”); it’s visually amusing but thematically strange, even if borrowing elements from periodically darker musicals like “Fiddler on the Roof” or “Cabaret.”

Fortunately, the acting is once again the highlight; the cast turns in impressive performances, even if the plot can’t offer up any surprises. And the themes remain significant, embracing the power of escapism to distract from the ugliness of war, alongside recognizing a cause that transcends individual survival. Parallels between Luis’ narration and Valentin’s devotion to activism also accrue, while notes on self-respect and introspection, the universality of love, identity, mortality, tearing down boundaries, and art imitating life similarly come into play. In a couple of scenes the film is more graphic than before, but minimal updates or modifications have been introduced; without the musical sequences, it’s almost the same picture. The filmmakers (including Bill Condon, who has found much success with musicals like “Dreamgirls” and “Chicago”) may be working with a challenging, emotional, effective source material, but they haven’t crafted it into something too far removed from what director Hector Babenco did 40 years earlier.

– Mike Massie