While Almodóvar’s films
have often chronicled deeply personal tales rooted in post-Franco Madrid milieus,
he possibly began transitioning from collective multi-character stories to
focused individual ones, with Julieta.
Suffused with memory, loss, melancholia and estrangement as in his marvelous previous
film, Pain and Glory felt like a
continuation of that possibly conscious shift. This impressionistic,
confessional and introspective work also had strong autobiographical touches, thus
making it even more personal. Antonio Banderas plays an ageing and reclusive gay
filmmaker of great former repute – and with a striking resemblance to the Spanish
maestro – for whom past and present have merged in his sense of being, on
account of his inability to work due to debilitating physical ailments; an early
animation sequence wryly provided a complete catalogue of his string of
problems. Four people play key roles as he seems stuck in a stasis – memories
of his ravishing and loving working-class mother (Penélope Cruz) when he was a
precocious but impoverished kid; a young amateur painter who he’d once known; a
bohemian actor (Asier Etxeandia) with whom he once had a fallout, who
introduces him to heroin, and adapts his fiercely autobiographical monologue to
stage; and Federico (Leonardo Sbaraglia) with who he once had a relationship in
the heydays of 80s Madrid. The heartwarming reunion of the two aged former
lovers was one the standout moments in this somber, restrained film comprising
of stellar performances led by a memorably nuanced Banderas, striking visual
schema, gently affecting score, and delectable meta elements. The cheeky final
scene, where the flashbacks transform into a shot from a film directed
by a now rejuvenated Salvador, provided an interesting dichotomy between actual
and perceived personal realities.
Director: Pedro Almodovar
Genre: Drama/Psychological DramaLanguage: Spanish
Country: Spain
No comments:
Post a Comment