The first two images of writer-director David Pablos’ On the Road are certain to grab the attention of any viewer: kerosene is poured over a young man in a vast desert; then, the same young man is penetrated vigorously by an older man in the back of a furnished truck. Placed so close together, and without context, these striking opening sequences provide the first indications of the roving threat of violence and the sweaty sexuality that, in their dangerous intersections, govern Pablos’ film. Counterbalancing this sensory intensity, and emerging slowly as the film develops, is a strand of earnest, touching tenderness.
On the Road, which won the Orizzonti Prize and the Queer Lion at the 2025 Venice International Film Festival, is a homoerotic neo-noir set in the world of long-haul truckers who traverse Mexican highways. The young man seen in the early sequences described above is Veneno (Victor Prieto Simental), a taciturn drifter who catches a ride with trucker Muñeco (Osvaldo Sanchez). Muñeco is somewhere around 20 years Veneno’s senior, and while wary of traveling with a stranger with a mysterious background, he seems quickly taken with the younger man. Improving their fortunes is the fact that Veneno is traveling with a large stash of cocaine. Muñeco and Veneno make a deal to sell the supply to truckers at roadside restaurants, with Muñeco taking a cut of the profits.
Muñeco and Veneno’s bond grows and deepens. Despite Muñeco’s protestations that he is straight, they begin having sex and cuddling at night. Their bond also has a pseudo-parental dimension: Veneno was abandoned by his father and Muñeco is estranged from his children; in turn, Muñeco treats Veneno with paternal care, and Veneno gives Muñeco loyal affection. Yet Muñeco begins to hear rumors that Veneno is being pursued by shady characters, and as the reality of Veneno’s situation sets in, they both find themselves in increasing danger — and Muñeco must decide whether to sell Veneno out.
On the Road is a sensuous slow burn. Pablos, in concert with director of photography Ximena Amann and editor Jonathan Pellicer, relishes in stylistic flourishes, the flashiest of which are a series of colorful montages that evoke Veneno’s past, shot and edited like music videos. Generally, though, Pablos maintains a steady, restrained pace, the two men revealing themselves bit by bit as they cruise through arid landscapes. In keeping with the film’s patient narrative progression, the sexual relationship between Muñeco and Veneno builds slowly. Each moment of casual intimacy shared between the men — most notably a scene in which they bathe outdoors in lambent sunlight — thrums with tension, and the eventual release of this tension is pulse-quickeningly intense. The sex between the two men is treated with uncompromising frankness; Pablos resists the temptation to cut away from a sex scene abruptly, instead letting these sequences build and crest to completion. No concessions to physical modesty are made, either: one of the film’s most memorable erotic images is of Muñeco’s erection springing out of his torn Fruit of the Looms. Even the most sexually provocative contemporary mainstream films tend to treat the sex act itself with undue delicacy; in contrast, it is refreshing to see Pablos’ commitment to exploring the fullness of his characters’ sexuality.
But while sex is foregrounded, On the Road is never fetishistic. Muñeco and Veneno’s emotional bond develops through and transcends their sexual relationship. Pablos lingers just as lovingly on shots of the two men holding each other fully clothed in bed as he does on their sex scenes. For their parts, Sanchez and Prieto Simental deliver multifaceted performances that reveal depths of vulnerability, with Sanchez in particularly displaying an impressive emotional range and complexity.
The relationship between Muñeco and Veneno proves the film’s emotional core, yet it is often buried in the narrative by the menacing threat of violence. This threat erupts multiple times, and the stakes escalate with each new violent act. Though the plot mechanics that underlie the increasing danger sometimes creak under their own weight, Pablos is overall effective in creating a constantly-shifting dance between tenderness and destruction, and in doing so lends intrigue and suspense to the film.
The threats that Veneno is outrunning and that Muñeco becomes caught up in, inevitably, reach a boiling point, and Pablos does not give either character an easy out — their story is not a fairy tale, nor one of redemptive doom. The film, instead, resolves in a well-judged ambiguity of characterization and tone. The lingering feeling, even after a late scene of jarring brutality, is one of melancholic tenderness. Veneno and Muñeco cannot escape the calamities that define their lives — crime, economic precarity, addiction, and homophobia are all addressed in On the Road — but their transient, briefly transcendent bond leaves a lasting imprint.
DIRECTOR: David Pablos; CAST: Victor Prieto Simental, Osvaldo Sánchez, Mariano López Sosa, Héctor Cárdenas, Obdulia Morales; DISTRIBUTOR: Strand Releasing; IN THEATERS: October 28; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 33 min.
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