My Top 5 Spanish Films Viewed in 2011

Given that I don't live in Spain, I tend to see films when they're released on DVD; usually a year after their initial cinema release. So, these films aren't all 'from' 2011 but I've limited myself to films that were released in Spanish cinemas in either 2011 or 2010. This top 5 is comprised of films that I viewed this year and wrote about on the blog -either as standalone posts, or as part of the Random Viewing thread.

1. Primos (Daniel Sánchez Arévalo, 2011)

A warm hug of a film -the affection that writer-director Daniel Sánchez Arévalo has for his characters is infectious. The collection of actors (Quim Gutierrez, Antonio de la Torre, Raúl Arévalo) who are becoming his de facto repertory company also form (along with Adrián Lastra, Inma Cuesta, and Clara Lago) one of the best ensemble casts of the year.

2. Pa negre (Agustí Villaronga, 2010)

A dark and otherworldly tale of innocence lost. A child's eye view of adult deceit and destruction. One of the most brutal opening sequences I can remember ever watching.

3. La mitad de Óscar (Manuel Martín Cuenca, 2011)

Probably one of the most atmospheric films I saw this year (in any language); it makes distinctive use of the landscape / geographic space and also assuredly cranks up the tension (we know that something is being pointedly ignored by the two siblings (bravura performances from Rodrigo Sáenz de Heredia and Verónica Echegui) but it hovers just out of sight for most of the film). It builds to a quietly devastating final scene between the two siblings that plays out in one long take with them in silhouette as the sun rises behind them: a strong contender for scene of the year, in my opinion (I saw the film back in September and it is still stuck in my mind).

4. Todas las canciones hablan de mí (Jonás Trueba, 2010)

A brilliant comedic romantic drama -guaranteed to put a spring in your step. I will hopefully write something longer about it in the New Year (it has only been briefly covered in a Random Viewing post so far).

5. Balada triste de trompeta (Álex de la Iglesia, 2010)

Not quite as batshit insane as the trailer makes out but nonetheless full of vivid imagery that scorches your retina and refuses to leave your mind (along with that song, which I have been humming ever since). Whatever your opinion of the overall whole (people seem to be divided between hating it or declaring it a masterpiece), I'd hope that most would have at least a glimmer of admiration for a writer-director going this 'all out'. Plaudits also go to the three leads -Carlos Areces, Antonio de la Torre, and Carolina Bang- the film wouldn't work if they weren't all committed to their roles, or if one performance overwhelmed the other two. The film will hopefully have a standalone post early in the New Year.

Honourable mentions: La mosquitera (Agustí Vila, 2010), Chico y Rita (Fernando Trueba & Javier Mariscal, 2011), Agnosia (Eugenio Mira, 2010), Flamenco Flamenco (Carlos Saura, 2010), La piel que habito (Pedro Almodóvar, 2011), La mujer sin piano (Javier Rebollo, 2010) and Héroes (Pau Freixas, 2010).

Films from 2010* that I still need to track down: Bon appétit (David Pinillos, 2010), El Gran Vázquez (Óscar Aibar, 2010), La isla interior (Dunia Ayaso & Félix Sabroso, 2010), Pájaros de papel (Emilio Aragón, 2010), Que se mueran los feos (Nacho G. Velilla, 2010), También la lluvia (Icíar Bollaín, 2010), Todo lo que tú quieras (Achero Mañas, 2010). *films from 2011 that I still need to track down will appear in a forthcoming post.

Films that didn't fit the 2010 / 2011 criteria but that you should definitely see: Los cronocrímenes (Nacho Vigalondo, 2007), Salto al vacio (Daniel Calparsoro, 1995), La madre muerta (Juanma Bajo Ulloa, 1993 -I wrote two posts on this one –here and here), Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto (Agustín Díaz Yanes, 1995 -a longer post on this one will appear in 2012), and Entre tinieblas (Pedro Almodóvar, 1983).

Hero of the Year: Filmin -without this Spanish streaming service I would have seen far fewer recent Spanish films (I first saw three of my top 5 via their service, and a further 4 of the honourable mentions) simply because of how expensive it is to import DVDs. I am also more likely to take a 'risk' on films that I know little about -as was the case with La mitad de Óscar- when using an all-included subscription service, which broadens the variety of films that this blog covers and hopefully makes it a bit more interesting.

I’ll be taking a break from the blog between Christmas and New Year –I’ll be back in January with posts on films from 2011 that I still want to catch up with, and on the Spanish films due for release in 2012 that I’m most interested in.

Merry Christmas –and I’ll ‘see’ you in 2012!

Not-So-Random-Viewing: Álex de la Iglesia Edition

Clockwise from top left: Balada triste de trompeta / The Last Circus (Álex de la Iglesia, 2010), 800 balas / 800 Bullets (Álex de la Iglesia, 2002), The Oxford Murders (Álex de la Iglesia, 2008), El día de la bestia / Day of the Beast (Álex de la Iglesia, 1995).

   Balada triste de trompeta featured in one of my first posts on this blog as one of the films from last year that I most wanted to catch up with in 2011. I'm going to write a standalone post about the film in (hopefully) January -I need to watch it again before attempting to write anything of any decent length and I won't have the time until after Christmas. [I know I quite often say that and things still haven't materialised, but Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto and a joint post about Los lunes al sol and Biutiful are still percolating in my brain, honest].
   However, on first impressions it strikes me as a culmination of de la Iglesia's work to date and it will be interesting to see where he has gone with his next film, La chispa de la vida (due for release in Spain in January); Balada triste de trompeta almost feels like an end point in terms of certain themes that recur across the director's work. It is unmistakably 'an Álex de la Iglesia film' in terms of the vividness and inventiveness of the imagery and an extremity of violence that takes on an almost cartoon-like quality; this is filmmaking that is by turns both exhilarating and highly disturbing. The circus is the perfect setting for the lunacy, violence, dark humour, and cruelty that run through de la Iglesia's films; given the miscreants, misfits, and malcontents who populate his films, it is almost a surprise that he hasn't set a story in this world before (although several of his films take place within an entertainment setting -a television comedy double-act in Muertos de risa and a Western sideshow spectacle in 800 balas).
   It was the sense that Balada represents a culmination of his work that made me watch the only two of his films that I hadn't seen previously: 800 balas and The Oxford Murders. 800 balas is in many ways a paean to cinema, filmmaking, and the type of films 'they don't make anymore'. The film takes place on old film sets in Almeria (the location for many Westerns filmed in the 1950s/60s, including Sergio Leone's Dollars trilogy) where a former stuntman (Sancho Gracia) reenacts his glory days with a gang of reprobates as they stage a 'Western sideshow' for the dwindling number of visiting tourists. It is a warm tribute to a world that no longer exists. I had two surprises watching The Oxford Murders -1) that it was nowhere near as bad as the UK reviews had led me to believe, and 2) how little of de la Iglesia's normal visual style it contained; it was as if the tepid English sunlight had diluted his usual visual dazzling.
   Then I decided to rewatch El día de la bestia because it is my favourite of his films (and one of my favourite films, full stop) - and as it takes place on Christmas Eve it seemed appropriately festive (insofar as a film about a priest (Alex Angulo), a TV psychic / paranormal expert (Armando de Razza), and a death-metal fan (Santiago Segura) attempting to stop the birth of the Antichrist can be 'festive'). I've never understood why it isn't available in the UK (likewise his Carmen Maura-starring La comunidad (2000)) given that several of his other films are, and it currently also seems to be OOP in Spain. If you get the chance to see it, do so -it is very funny and a deeply affectionate take on the horror film.

Another Book Added

Mira, A. (2010) -The A-Z of Spanish Cinema, Plymouth: The Scarecrow Press, Inc. ISBN: 9780810876224.

The merits of A-Z type compendiums have always appeared somewhat dubious to me as they usually tend towards the simplistic and obvious (although Routledge's Key Concepts series, which operates along similar lines, has always been excellent). Happily that is not the case here. I haven't come across The Scarecrow Press's A-Z series previously, but it covers a broad range of subjects -this book is no.244 in the series (nestled in between The A-Z of U.S. diplomacy from World War I through World War II and The A-Z of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation).

The book starts with a chronology of Spanish cinema between 1896 and 2008, then has a fairly substantial introductory chapter before moving onto the dictionary proper. The dictionary includes entries on key films, themes (including specifically Spanish terms such as costumbrismo), directors, writers, producers, and actors. I think it benefits from being the work of just one person because it feels like a unified whole with a consistent viewpoint and entries cross-referencing other entries. One can always quibble with what gets left out but actually the balance is pretty evenly struck between old and modern classics, and the range of individuals covered also feels varied (there is a mix of generations, but all are established names). But I think that the crowning glory is the 94-page bibliography. It is the most extensive and exhaustive bibliography on Spanish cinema that I've ever come across; I've been seeking these things out for years and this bibliography is seriously impressive (If you're the type of person who is impressed by bibliographies. Which I am). The bibliography is divided into several sections (some items appear in more than section): General and Reference; Origins and Silent Years (1896-1931); Republican Period and the Civil War (1931-1939); Early Francoism (1939-1960); The Desarrollismo Period and Late Francoism (1961-1975); Transition Period and Socialist Change (1975-1990); Recent Spanish Cinema (from 1990); Specific Filmmakers; Legislation and Economy; Autonomous Regions; Journals; Internet Sites. I've been merrily filling in Inter-Library Loan request forms ever since this book arrived through the post. If you're researching / interested in specific periods of Spanish cinema, or specific Spanish filmmakers, this book would be an excellent starting point.

Recommended.  

This will be added to Books on Spanish Cinema, Part Two 

Spain Made Flesh: Penélope Cruz and La niña de tus ojos (Fernando Trueba, 1998)

      The stardom of Penélope Cruz can be dated precisely as beginning in 1992 with the release of Jamón jamón (Bigas Luna, 1992) and Belle epoque (Fernando Trueba, 1992). The two films side by side encapsulate two facets of her star image; on the one hand, Cruz’s position as what Eugenia de la Torriente describes as the ‘mito erótico nacional’ [‘national erotic myth’] (2004: 38) as Silvia in Jamón jamón, and on the other, the virginal ideal in the character of Luz in Belle epoque. But they also caused her to debut on the national stage in two films that either consciously questioned and parodied Spanish identities or conflated contemporary Spain with Spain’s past; Cruz’s emergence at a time when Spanish identity was openly being discussed and Spain was actively (and publicly) trying to redefine itself has shaped the form and content of her stardom, the ways in which she interacts with the national, and the image of Spanishness that she represents as an end result. From the outset of her career, Penélope Cruz has also been constructed as a star who specifically ‘belongs’ to Spain: a number of Spanish female stars have emerged in the last twenty years but none are so possessively claimed as she. Cruz is commonly referred to in the Spanish press as ‘nuestra Penélope’ [‘our Penélope’] and her star image is presented as signifying innate aspects of Spanish womanhood, and she is seen as embodying Spain, or ‘España hecha carne’ [‘Spain made flesh’] in the words of director Bigas Luna (Trashorras 1999: 132).
      Peter Evans notes how many daughters she has played onscreen and describes her as ‘la “niña”, es decir, la de todos los espectadores, la de toda España, a la que se refieren a menudo como “nuestra Penélope”’ [‘the little girl, that is to say, that of all the spectators, that of all of Spain, she who they refer to at least as “our Penélope”’] (2004: 54-55). This is further emphasised by the roles that are located within a specifically Spanish context: the arrival of the Second Republic in Belle epoque; incarcerated as a ‘political subversive’ during the last years of the dictatorship in Entre rojas (Azucena Rodríguez, 1995); a ‘gran estrella’ recalling Imperio Argentina in La niña de tus ojos / The Girl of Your Dreams (Fernando Trueba, 1998); Goya’s model for ‘La maja vestida’ and ‘La maja desnuda’ in Volavérunt (Bigas Luna, 1999); as well as her short role in the prologue (set during the ‘state of exception’ in 1970) of Carne trémula / Live Flesh (Pedro Almodóvar, 1997). These films position Cruz and her star image within narratives that have cultural and historical significance to Spain and therefore embed her within the cultural imaginary: ‘a nation is nothing without the stories it tells itself about itself’ (Triana-Toribio 2003: 6). This post examines the representation of Penélope Cruz as embodying Spain, specifically in the film La niña de tus ojos, the film for which she won her first Goya for Best Actress in 1999.

Another Book Added to List

Resina, J.R. (ed) (2008) -Burning Darkness: A Half Century of Spanish Cinema, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. ISBN: 978-0791475041

A collection that covers an interesting range of films with the aim of contributing to the as-yet still scarce range of English-language analytical resources that address Spanish cinema. The selection of films and directors has been done so as to span 'the period from the origins of the New Spanish Cinema in the 1950s to the end of the twentieth century' (p.1).

• Introduction -Joan Ramon Resina
• 1. Rehearsing for Modernity in ¡Bienvenido, Mister Marshall! (Luis García Berlanga, 1952) -Eva Woods Peiró
• 2. Existential Crossroads in Muerte de un ciclista (Juan Antonio Bardem, 1955) -Andrés Lima-Hincapié
• 3. Viridiana Coca-Cola (Luis Buñuel, 1961) -Tom Conley
• 4. El espíritu de la colmena: Memory, Nostalgia, Trauma (Víctor Erice, 1973) -Chris Perriam
• 5. A Poetics of Splitting: Memory and Identity in La prima Angélica (Carlos Saura, 1974) -Ángel Quintana
• 6. Ambiguous Disenchantment in El corazón del bosque (Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón, 1979)  -Irení Depetris-Chauvin
• 7. Los paraísos perdidos: Cinema of Return and Repetition (Basilio Martín Patino, 1985) -Tatjana Pavlović
• 8. (M)Othering Strategies in El pájaro de la felicidad (Pilar Miró, 1993) -Jaume Martí-Olivella
• 9. Abjection, Trauma, and the Material Image: La madre muerta (Juanma Bajo Ulloa, 1993) -Jo Labanyi
• 10. The Catalan Body Politic as Aired in La teta i la lluna (Bigas Luna, 1994) -Dominic Keown
• 11. Genre and Screen Violence: Revisiting Tesis (Alejandro Amenábar, 1995) -Barry Jordan
• 12. Conceptualizing "the Impact" in Los amantes del Círculo Polar (Julio Medem, 1998) -Robert A. Davidson
• 13. Immortal/Undead: The Body and the Transmission of Tradition in Amic/Amat (Ventura Pons, 1998) -Josep-Anton Fernández
• 14. Imitation of Life: Transsexuality and Transtextuality in Todo sobre mi madre (Pedro Almodóvar, 1999) -Esteve Riambau
• 15. The Construction of the Cinematic Image: En construcción (José Luis Guerín, 2000) -Joan Ramon Resina

The book has been added to the Books on Spanish Cinema, Part Two post.

New Book Added to List

Torres Hortelano, L.J. (ed.) (2011) - Directory of World Cinema: Spain, Bristol: Intellect. ISBN: 9781841504636

This book forms part of a relatively new series from Intellect looking at various world cinemas. The aim is that future volumes will be added to each country's directory every couple of years (this volume makes tentative references to possible subjects to be included in future editions). On the back cover it says: 'Each volume of the directory will take the form of a collection of reviews, longer essay, and research resources, accompanied by film stills highlighting significant films and players.'

The book is divided into different sections encompassing focusses on specific directors, locations, film festivals, cultural background, and genres. The genres (some of which are specific to Spain) form the backbone of the directory with the ten different genre sections including an essay and then reviews of ten films that fall within that genre (although this is sometimes 'loosely' / bizarrely interpreted -for example, how did Cesc Gay's En la ciudad come to be classified as 'Experimental Documentary'?). Although 100 films are included, the editor is very clear in saying that this is not a '100 Best Spanish Films' enterprise, but rather the intention is to give a flavour of the variety within Spanish cinema. Future volumes would look at different genres. One could argue about the omissions (I know that it is often said that Almodóvar overshadows everyone else, but to only include one Almodóvar film feels an overcorrection too far in the other direction -especially when other directors have multiple films included. Plus, the Torrente phenomenon deserves some coverage) but, as this is seen as a project that will develop over time, perhaps those absences will be addressed in the future ('films about the Civil War' is a category that is mentioned for inclusion in the possible second volume).

This is more a book to dip in and out of rather than to read cover to cover (I haven't read all of it yet), but it's probably a good starting point for someone who is interested in watching Spanish films but doesn't know where to begin. As is often the case with books with multiple contributors (70, in this case), the style and quality of the writing is variable (some of the reviews lean towards the descriptive rather than the analytical, others seem to have suffered in translation), but an interesting aspect to the collection of contributors is how many of them are Spanish; it is relatively rare to see Spanish views on Spanish cinema published in English. Overall, a good introduction to the variety that Spanish cinema has to offer, but more of a starting point for further investigation than a one-stop-shop.

The table of contents is below, and because the impetus behind my starting the book lists was my frustration with being unable to find out what films are covered in a particular book, I'm going to include the (original) film titles of those reviewed in the various sections (but not the contributor names because of the vast number).

Introduction by the Editor

Film of the Year: Biutiful

Interview with Jaime Rosales

Industry Spotlight: Spanish Film Production

Cultural Crossover

-Influence of European Avant-garde

-Representations of Violence

-Don Quixote Visual Ridings

Festival Focus

-Semana de Cine Experimental de Madrid / Experimental Film Week of Madrid

Film Location: Madrid

Directors:

-Edgar Neville

-Fernando Fernán-Gómez

-Carlos Saura

-Victor Erice

-Pedro Almodóvar

Auteur Melodrama / Melodrama de autor

-Essay

-Reviews (Jamón, jamón (Bigas Luna, 1992), Todo sobre mi madre (Almodóvar, 1999), Cielo negro (Mur Oti, 1951), Caótica Ana (Medem, 2007), La vida mancha (Urbizu, 2003), My Life Without Me (Coixet, 2003), La ardilla roja (Medem, 1993), The Secret Life of Words (Coixet, 2005), Things I Never Told You (Coixet, 1996), Las voces de la noche (García Ruiz, 2003)).

Grotesque Comedy / Esperpento

-Essay

-Reviews (Amanece, que no es poco (Cuerda, 1988), Atraco a las tres (Forqué, 1962), Belle epoque (Trueba, 1992), El verdugo (García Berlanga, 1963), El milagro de P Tinto (Fesser, 1998), La escopeta nacional (García Berlanga, 1978), Plácido (García Berlanga, 1961), La linea del cielo (Colomo, 1983), El extraño viaje (Fernán-Gómez, 1964), Los tramposos (Lazaga, 1959)).

Iberian Drama

-Essay

-Reviews (Solas (Zambrano, 1999), Alas de mariposa (Bajo Ulloa, 1991), En la ciudad sin límites (Hernández, 2002), Flores del otro mundo (Bollaín, 1999), La casa de Bernarda Alba (Camus, 1987), La caza (Saura, 1965), Los lunes al sol (León de Aranoa, 2002), Poniente (Gutiérrez, 2002), La soledad (Rosales, 2007), Viridiana (Buñuel, 1961)).

Musical (But Not Only Flamenco...)

-Essay

-Reviews (¡Ay, Carmela! (Saura, 1990), Morena clara (Rey, 1936), Flamenco (Saura, 1995), La niña de tus ojos (Trueba, 1998), Pena, penita, pena (Morayta, 1953), El otro lado de la cama (Martínez Lázaro, 2002), Shirley Temple Story (Padrós, 1976), Canciones para después de una guerra (Patino, 1976), Embrujo (Serrano de Osma, 1946)).

Period Films / De época

-Essay

-Reviews (Alatriste (Díaz Yanes, 2006), Bocage (Leitão de Barros, 1936), Vacas (Medem, 1992), El perro del hortelano (Miró, 1996), Honor de cavalleria (Serra, 2006), Los últimos de Filipinas (Román, 1945), Locura de amor (Orduña, 1948), Nuestra Señora de Fátima (Gil, 1951), Sin novedad en el Alcázar (Genina, 1940), You Are the One (Una historia de entonces) (Garci, 2000)).

Dictatorship Forgotten Cinema

-Essay

-Reviews (Un hombre va por el camino (Mur Oti, 1949), Carmen fra i rossi (Neville, 1939), Surcos (Nieves Conde, 1951), La vida en un hilo (Neville, 1945), Calle Mayor (Bardem, 1956), Marcelino pan y vino (Vajda, 1955), El clavo (Gil, 1944), Historias de la radio (Sáenz de Heredia, 1955), El espíritu de la colmena (Erice, 1973), Vida en sombras (Llobet Gracia, 1948)).

The Transition to Democracy Cinema / Cine de la Transición

-Essay

-Reviews (El desencanto (Chávarri, 1976), El bosque animado (Cuerda, 1987), Los santos inocentes (Camus, 1984), La vieja memoria (Camino, 1979), Furtivos (Borau, 1975), Arrebato (Zulueta, 1979), Los restos del naufragio (Franco, 1978), 7 días de enero (Bardem, 1979), Habla, mudita (Gutiérrez Aragón, 1973), El viaje a ninguna parte (Fernán-Gómez, 1986)).

Crime and Thriller

-Essay

-Reviews (Angustia (Bigas Luna, 1987), Bilbao (Bigas Luna, 1978), Domingo de carnaval (Neville, 1945), Muerte de un ciclista (Bardem, 1955), El cebo (Vajda, 1958), Nadie hablará de nosotras cuando hayamos muerto (Díaz Yanes, 1995), Los peces rojos (Nieves Conde, 1955), Soldados de Salamina (Trueba, 2003), Tesis (Amenábar, 1996), Los cronocrímenes (Vigalondo, 2007)).

Fantasy and Horror

-Essay

-Reviews (El día de la bestia (de la Iglesia, 1995), El espinazo del diablo (del Toro, 2001), La Residencia (Ibáñez Serrador, 1969), Acción mutante (de la Iglesia, 1993), El orfanato (Bayona, 2007), The Others (Amenábar, 2001), El laberinto del fauno (del Toro, 2006), La cabina (Mercero, 1972), [Rec] (Balagueró and Plaza, 2007), La torre de los siete jorobados (Neville, 1944)).

Experimental Documentary

-Essay

-Reviews (El cant dels ocells (Serra, 2008), Contactos (Viota, 1970), El sol del membrillo (Erice, 1992), En la ciudad (Gay, 2003), Las Hurdes. Tierra sin pan (Buñuel, 1933), Die stille vor Bach (Portabella, 2007), Tren de sombras: El espectro de Le Thuit (Guerín, 1997), Umbracle (Portabella, 1972), Un chien andalou (Buñuel, 1929), Aguaespejo granadino (Val de Omar, 1953-1955)).

Recommended Reading

Spanish Cinema Online

Notes on Contributors

Glossary

Filmography

The book has been added to the Books on Spanish Cinema, Part Two post.

….and Almodóvar Month ends

So, the 31 days of Pedro celebration are now over, and all eighteen films have featured in some way on the blog. It’s a shame that I wasn’t overly enamoured with film no.18, but that’s the way it goes sometimes and I’ll be the first in line again when no.19 arrives. 

My original plan for Almodóvar Month had been to write about my ten favourite Almodóvar films but I had to change that when the release date moved from November to August. I may write longer posts on some those films in the future (three of them had longer posts this month), but I’ve realised that I’ve not actually said what my ten favourites are –so, as the final post of Nobody Knows Anybody’s Almodóvar Month, here is my personal top ten (the links either take you to my short summary or the longer post)

• 1. Talk to Her
• = Volver
• 3. Dark Habits
• 4. Bad Education
• 5. All About My Mother
• = High Heels
• = Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
• 8. Live Flesh
• 9. What Have I Done To Deserve This?
• 10. Law of Desire

La piel que habito / The Skin I Live In (Pedro Almodóvar, 2011)

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar and Agustín Almodóvar, based on the novel Mygale (a.k.a. Tarantula) by Thierry Jonquet.

Cast: Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya, Marisa Paredes, Jan Cornet, Blanca Suárez, Roberto Álamo, Eduard Fernández, Susi Sánchez, Bárbara Lennie, Fernando Cayo, José Luis Gómez.

Short version: A rich and macabre body-horror with touches of melodrama, well executed, with excellent performances, but not my cup of tea.

WARNING: SPOILERS ARE INCLUDED -THE FILM IS BEST VIEWED WITHOUT PRIOR KNOWLEDGE

My 5 Favourite Almodóvar Film Posters

I should be seeing La piel que habito / The Skin I Live In over the weekend, with a post to follow at the start of the next week. In the meantime, here are my five favourite posters for Almodóvar films.

Designer: Juan Gatti 

I’ve got the UK Quad poster version of this (i.e. landscape rather than portrait –with the picture on one side and the wording on the other) on my wall. Also look for the Japanese mini poster (chirashi) version, which has Cruz emerging from a bouquet of flowers. It’s a really bold poster and I like how it uses the colour that Almodóvar is most associated with (red) and integrates the pattern from one of Raimunda’s outfits (I think it was either Peter Bradshaw or Jonathan Romney who said that on the basis of this film, Cruz has to be one of the few women in the world who could wear anything that Primark could possibly throw at her). In my longer post about the film I suggest that Volver is kind of an old-fashioned ‘star vehicle’ for Penélope Cruz –it is to an extent built around her existing star image- and her centrality on the poster (and to my knowledge her image was the only one that appeared in promotional materials, although I could be wrong) supports that.

Designer: Juan Gatti

Another Gatti design, another poster that I have on my wall (although not full size). There are several different posters for Women on the Verge but this is my favourite –it captures several things about the film: its overall stylised nature (which starts in the opening credits (also designed by Gatti –the images on the poster are in the credit sequence)), the prominence of primary colours in the set design, and that although there is a central character (Pepa –Carmen Maura), there is more than one woman in the film who is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Designer: Iván Zulueta

The poster contains several elements from the film. Most obviously the tiger that the nuns keep in the garden of the convent, but here the tiger is standing for the Mother Superior (played by Julieta Serrano). Note that Yolanda (Cristina Pascual), wearing the dress that she’s wearing when she arrives at the convent, is becoming ensnared in the tiger’s claws, an indication that she risks being devoured by the Mother Superior if she is not careful. But also note that the tiger’s claws are scratching the habit –the Mother Superior is damaging herself, and her behaviour is self-destructive. Apart from the nun’s habit, the poster also contains the symbol of this particular Order (the Convent of the Humiliated Redeemers) –but instead of a heart surrounded by flames, instead it is pierced by syringes, which partly refers to what the nuns believe their mission is (the rescue ‘fallen’ girls, drug addicts seemingly prominent among them), but is also a reference the Mother Superior’s own addictions.

Designer: Juan Gatti

I just like the Saul Bass-ness of this one. It doesn’t work as well in the UK version because they try to fit ‘Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!’ into the same space as ‘Átame!’.

Designer: Juan Gatti

I like the simplicity of this design, which again makes use of the colour red (the dominant colour within the film itself). The circle can be read in many ways –it puts the boy at the centre of a target (the priest pursues him), but it could also be a spotlight (pointing to the elements of ‘performance’ that surround Ignacio). The crossed arms also signal determination –something that can certainly be ascribed to Ignacio in his many different incarnations.

Los abrazos rotos / Broken Embraces (Pedro Almodóvar, 2009)

Penélope Cruz and Lluís Homar

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Penélope Cruz, Lluís Homar, Blanca Portillo, Tamar Novas, Rubén Ochandiano, José Luis Gómez, Ángela Molina.

Synopsis: Told in flashback, as a man reminisces about meeting the love of his life, Broken Embraces tells the story of the production of a film fourteen years earlier, the love affair between the director and the lead actress, and the punishments inflicted on the actress by her financier husband. The film was hacked to pieces under the financier's influence, but a greater tragedy than bad reviews awaited the couple...

I was initially disappointed when I saw this film, at least in part because I’d hyped it up in my own mind (I seriously need to calm down about La piel que habito, or it’ll happen again). My reaction after my first viewing was that it unravels, or deflates, about three-quarters of the way through when Judit (Portillo), has to fill in the blanks to what we have seen in flashback as Mateo / Harry (Homar) recounted the story of his last film as a director to Diego (Novas). I felt that too much exposition was done in that one scene and it also seemed jarring that we were being told rather shown what happened. But watching it again now, that scene does not seem as jarring, although I do still think that the film just kind of tails off at the end. However, even with those ‘doubts’ in mind, the film is still a powerful and heartfelt meditation on cinema and filmmaking; the film stands as a love letter to cinema, and to his (then) current muse, Penélope Cruz. The scenes where Mateo meets Lena (Cruz) for the first time and then sets about turning her into his lead actress clearly demonstrate why Cruz is a star -the camera loves her as much as Pedro does. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that the ‘deflation’ (from my perspective) happens after Lena (Cruz) has left the narrative –Cruz’s absence is palpable, and although that fits with the desolation that Mateo is initially left with, to me it made the film feel a bit unbalanced (even though we see her performance in Chicas y maletas (the film within the film) at the end of the film).

Volver (Pedro Almodóvar, 2006)

Yohana Cobo and Penélope Cruz

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Penélope Cruz, Carmen Maura, Lola Dueñas, Blanca Portillo, Yohana Cobo, Chus Lampreave, Antonio de la Torre.

Synopsis: Raimunda (Cruz) has raised her daughter (Cobo) in the city, far away from the village where she grew up and the painful memories of a fractious relationship with her now-dead mother (Maura). But the past has a way of catching up with you - Raimunda's sister, Sole (Dueñas), returns from their aunt's (Lampreave) funeral apparently experiencing visions of their dead mother. But is she dead? And what does their aunt's neighbour (Portillo) know? But Raimunda has enough problems of her own -like what to do with the dead man (de la Torre) in her kitchen...

This is probably my favourite of Almodóvar’s films, although it does have some pretty strong competition. Few directors can veer so masterfully between comedy and tragedy as Almodóvar does in this film, sometimes within a single scene –it is genuinely funny but also carries a powerful emotional punch. My longer post on the film, seen through the prism of Cruz’s star image, is here.

La mala educación / Bad Education (Pedro Almodóvar, 2004)

Gael García Bernal

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Gael García Bernal, Fele Martínez, Lluís Homar, Daniel Jiménez Cacho, Javier Camára, Francisco Boira.

Synopsis: Where to begin with this one? ‘In 1980s Madrid two young men, filmmaker Enrique (Martínez) and aspiring actor Ignacio (García Bernal) open up dark secrets as they revisit their early years together at a Catholic school. As they try to uncover the truth about themselves, each other and the diverse characters in their story, they realize that things and people are not as they first seem’ (from the UK edition of the DVD because it’s a more concise summary than I could come up with).

This is one of those films that is best seen with as little knowledge about the plot as possible. Probably Almodóvar’s most narratively-complex film, we are given several narrative layers, a film within a film, and flashbacks that are not entirely trustworthy. With hindsight (or on second viewing), the complexity of the plot is signaled in the design of the opening credits (designed by Juan Gatti, Almodóvar’s habitual collaborator on credit sequences, posters, and press-packs since Women on the Verge…); layers are torn back to reveal names and other images underneath, and pictures are turned into mosaics (a motif in the film) as if torn up in a fit of pique. As the film unfolds we come to see that that we should not trust what is being presented to us; the past is being reconfigured, or rewritten, to suit the desires of one particular person (although he appears in many different guises).

I loved the film when I saw it for the first time and went back to see it again a couple of days later (it is definitely a film that can withstand multiple viewings), taking a friend with me who had never seen an Almodóvar film before. She was left speechless (and not in a good way), so be warned that it is not to everyone’s taste –but I think that people who like his films will find much to enjoy here (there are quite a lot of visual references to his other films hidden in the mix as well).

Hable con ella / Talk to Her (Pedro Almodóvar, 2002)

Dario Grandinetti, Javier Camára and Leonor Watling

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Javier Camára, Dario Grandinetti, Leonor Watling, Rosario Flores, Geraldine Chaplin.

Synopsis: Two men, a nurse (Camára) and a travel writer (Grandinetti), care for two comatose women (Watling and Flores). Through a series of flashbacks we discover how the women (a ballerina and a matador respectively) came to be in their comatose states, but also realise that their relationships with the men are not what they first appear to be.

A film that is both dark and unsettling but also nonetheless profoundly moving, especially in the later stages. On first viewing I don’t think that I ‘liked’ it, but it has grown on me over the years thanks in part to the two central performances from Camára and Grandinetti, but also because of Almodóvar’s refusal to judge his characters –it is now among my favourites of his films. A longer post on the film can be found here.

Pedro and Penélope

    Penélope Cruz has appeared in four Almodóvar films to date (Live Flesh (1997), All About My Mother (1999), Volver (2006), and Broken Embraces (2009)). I was going to simply write about Volver for the blog, it is among my favourite films, but in my mind the film is inextricably linked to Cruz and her star image (in part, no doubt, because that was the prism through which I initially viewed it –see note at the end of this post). Almodóvar has over the years worked with a succession of female muses: Carmen Maura, Victoria Abril, Marisa Paredes, and most recently Penélope Cruz. He adeptly both plays to their strengths and also pushes them beyond what they have delivered for other directors –labelling him a ‘women’s director’ is often meant to be derogatory, but Almodóvar directs women like few others. While his muses have played iconic roles for other directors, I would argue that the roles given to them by Almodóvar are among their most memorable, and (in terms of UK audiences) often their best known as well. It is a well-circulated story in her interviews that after sneaking into a screening of Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (1990), a young Penélope Cruz told her mother that she was going to be an actress and would someday work with Almodóvar. This post looks at how her career has intersected with his, and why Volver can be seen as a ‘star vehicle’ custom-made for her.

Todo sobre mi madre / All About My Mother (Pedro Almodóvar, 1999)

Antonia San Juan, Cecilia Roth and Penélope Cruz

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Cecilia Roth, Antonia San Juan, Penélope Cruz, Marisa Paredes, Candela Pena, Rosa María Sardà, Fernando Fernán Gómez, Eloy Azorín, Toni Cantó.

Synopsis: After watching a stage production of A Streetcar Named Desire as a treat for her son's birthday, Manuela (Roth) watches in horror as her only child (Azorín) is killed in a hit and run while chasing after his favourite actress (Paredes) for an autograph. In a state of shock, Manuela leaves Madrid to return to Barcelona (after a long absence) in search of her former husband (Cantó) to tell him about their son. Along the way she meets old friends and makes new ones...

Along with Women on the Verge… this is the film I usually suggest when someone asks me where they should start with Almodóvar –I think it is among the most accessible of his films, but without losing any of the elements that make his films so distinctive.

Carne trémula / Live Flesh (Pedro Almodóvar, 1997)

Francesca Neri and Javier Bardem

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar, Ray Loriga, and Jorge Guerricaechevarria (based on a novel by Ruth Rendell)

Cast: Javier Bardem, Francesca Neri, Liberto Rabal, Ángela Molina, José Sancho, Penélope Cruz, Pilar Bardem, Alex Angulo.

Synopsis: During a confrontation between two policemen (Bardem and Sancho) and a youth, Victor (Rabal), in Elena's (Neri) apartment, a gun goes off and one of the policemen, David (Bardem), is shot, leaving him paralysed from the waist down. By the time Victor is released from prison, David and Elena have married and the former policeman is representing Spain in basketball at the Paralympics. But Victor feels he has been wronged and swears revenge...

The Inspector Wexford TV series was never like this! Almodóvar uses the Ruth Rendell novel as a starting point but then takes the initial situation (the shooting of a policeman) in his own inimitable direction. This seems to be another of his lesser-known films in the UK, probably in part because it is somewhat difficult to track down (it appears to currently be OOP, but secondhand copies can be found on ebay and Amazon). My longer post on the film is here.

La flor de mi secreto / The Flower of My Secret (Pedro Almodóvar, 1995)

Marisa Paredes and Imanol Arias

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Marisa Paredes, Juan Echanove, Imanol Arias, Chus Lampreave, Rossy De Palma.

Synopsis: Leo (Paredes) secretly writes bestselling romance novels under the pseudonym Amanda Gris, but as her marriage to Paco (Arias) falls apart (he is in Brussels working for NATO) she finds herself unable to write and her fiction takes a darker turn, much to the annoyance of her publisher (who threatens to sue). Hoping to be taken seriously as a writer, and wanting to leave her romance novels behind, Leo approaches Angel (Echanove) -the arts editor at El País- about writing criticism for the paper. Her first job? Reviewing the new Amanda Gris anthology. She decides to commit commercial suicide and attacks the book with gusto. Everything comes to a head when Paco comes home on leave…

The film marks the beginning of a more ‘serious’ phase in Almodóvar’s career. Aside from Marisa Paredes’s powerfully pain-stricken performance, it is probably most interesting for containing elements that would go on the shape the plots of All About My Mother and Volver. The organ donation scenes (specifically the training course for doctors, which features a nurse called Manuela ‘playing’ the mother in the role play) recur in All About My Mother, and the plot of the much darker novel (‘The Freezer’) that is rejected by the Amanda Gris publishers includes plot points that appear in Volver (the freezer of the title is where the main character hides her husband’s body in the restaurant next door).

Kika (Pedro Almodóvar, 1993)

Victoria Abril

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Verónica Forqué, Victoria Abril, Peter Coyote, Alex Casanovas, Rossy De Palma.

Synopsis: Make-up artist Kika (Forqué) lives with her photographer boyfriend Ramón (Casanovas) who remains obsessed with his mother’s suicide some years earlier. Ramón’s ex-stepfather (and Kika’s ex-lover), Nicholas (an American writer (Coyote)), returns to Madrid after two years of travelling and moves into the studio above their apartment. Andrea (Abril) is a former psychologist (and Ramón’s ex) who now presents a garish reality TV show, El peor del día (The Worst of the Day), which broadcasts real footage of horrific crimes. Meanwhile, an escaped rapist seeks assistance from his sister (De Palma), who happens to be Kika’s housekeeper…

A.k.a. the first Almodóvar film I ever saw. Despite it being disliked by many people, and despite my own ‘issues’ with the film (namely the rape scene), I do hold it in some affection simply because it was my introduction to the director. It gives a scathing critique of ‘reality’ television and is a difficult film to like, perhaps not surprisingly given that Almodóvar has said that it is about ‘the sickness of big cities’ (Strauss 2006: 123). But Verónica Forqué gives a wonderful performance as the ever-optimistic Kika (and was memorably described in Sight & Sound as ‘a curious combination of Judy Holliday and Barbara Windsor’ by Paul Julian Smith (1994: 8)), and Victoria Abril also looks like she’s having fun as the deeply malevolent Andrea Caracortada (‘Scarface’). 

Machos in Madrid: Carne trémula / Live Flesh (Pedro Almodóvar, 1997)

Javier Bardem and José Sancho

       Paul Julian Smith states that, along with Almodóvar’s previous film (The Flower of My Secret (1995)), Live Flesh signals the start of a more mature phase of the director’s career (2003: 150), although it maintains several of his predominant interests, including the subversion of gender stereotypes (Smith 1998: 8). Live Flesh is effectively a treatise on machismo and the damage that it inflicts on both men and women, articulated through the generic guise of a thriller. It was the first of Almodóvar’s films to focus exclusively on masculinity and its incarnations (although women are the cause of much that goes on in the film), and Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas argues that this focus on male characters ‘exposes some of the contradictions inherent in traditional notions of masculinity’ (2002: 190). 

     Steve Marsh posits that the film is also the first of Almodóvar’s films to use men as something more than ciphers and that not only are they imbued with history, but they are also constructed by it (2004: 54): ‘While this is indisputably Almodóvar’s male movie, its exploration of heterosexual masculinity is intimately linked to the political configurations of the time and space of the city of Madrid’ (58). Almodóvar is part of Madrid’s cultural heritage, having been a major figure in la movida in the 1980s, and all of his films (including Live Flesh) had been set in Madrid. However, Almodóvar had always been a chronicler of the here and now, refusing to focus on the past, and his films were famous for avoiding direct references to Franco or the dictatorship; what marks out Live Flesh is that it is the last of his films (to date) to be set exclusively in Madrid (his next film, All About My Mother (1999), was his first to be set outside of Madrid (it mainly takes place in Barcelona) and his subsequent films have been made in a variety of locations), and the first in which Spain’s past reverberates through the narrative. History, masculinity, the city of Madrid, and Spain itself, become encapsulated in the lives of the three male characters (Sancho (José Sancho), David (Javier Bardem), and Víctor (Liberto Rabal)). 

Tacones lejanos / High Heels (Pedro Almodóvar, 1991)

Miguel Bosé

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Victoria Abril, Marisa Paredes, Miguel Bosé, Feodor Atkine, Miriam Díaz Aroca.

Synopsis: After more than fifteen years abroad, singer Becky del Paramo (Paredes) returns home to Spain to find her daughter, Rebeca (Abril), grown-up and married to one of Becky’s former lovers (Atkine). In her mother’s absence, Rebeca has taken to watching the performances of Femme Letal (Bosé), a drag artiste who imitates Becky’s musical performances from the 1960s. When all of these elements come together, murder follows…

A.k.a. the first Spanish film that I attempted to watch without subtitles. It didn’t go very well because I’d only had three Spanish lessons at that point, and surprisingly enough cross-dressing and murder investigations hadn’t featured in the vocab lists, but I did make some very detailed notes about the costumes! Shortly afterwards I did manage to find a copy with subtitles, so all became clear –it is virtually impossible to follow the plot if you can’t understand what is being said. I’d forgotten how much I liked it and also how strong the performances by the three central actors (Abril, Paredes, and Bosé –the latter of whom actually plays three different roles within the film, which was one of the things that confused me during the without-subtitles viewing) are. I was going to write a longer post about it for Almodóvar Month, but I’ve decided to use it for an ‘Anatomy of a Scene’ post at some point in the future instead. This seems to be one of Almodóvar’s lesser-known films, which is a shame because it is one of my favourites –check it out!

¡Átame! / Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (Pedro Almodóvar, 1990)

Antonio Banderas and Victoria Abril

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Victoria Abril, Antonio Banderas, Loles León, Francisco (Paco) Rabal.

Synopsis: Freshly released from the mental hospital, Ricky (Banderas) wants to settle down, get married and have kids. He has decided that his future wife will be Marina (Abril), an ex-porn star, now serious actress (with a drug habit), who is working on a horror film for renowned director Máximo Espejo (Rabal). So he kidnaps her, ties her to the bed, and announces his intentions…

Released with little fuss in Spain (where it was favourably received by the critics and was among the biggest domestic hits of the year (Smith 2000: 108)), this film became notorious on its release in the US and led to the creation of the NC-17 certificate (the MPAA originally gave the film an X rating, which was usually applied to hard-core pornography). I’ve clearly become de-sensitised to sexual content because I struggle to see what the fuss was about (is the plot actually that different to Beauty and the Beast?). I think your perception of the film depends on whether you take the world on screen to be ‘reality’ or a heightened, Almodóvarian representation. I’m trying to keep these summaries short, so there isn’t really the space to discuss it here, but I don’t think that the film is intended to be taken as literally as some people have done. One to be written about in the future, when I’ve got more time and space to discuss it.

Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios / Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (Pedro Almodóvar, 1988)

Julieta Serrano

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Carmen Maura, Maria Barranco, Julieta Serrano, Antonio Banderas, Rossy De Palma, Kiti Manver, Fernando Guillen, Chus Lampreave.

Synopsis: Ivan (Guillen) has left Pepa (Maura). As she alternately tries to track him down around Madrid and waits for his call at home, a range of people (including her friend Candela (Barranco), on the run from the police for harbouring Shi’ite terrorists, the son she never knew Ivan had (Banderas), and Ivan’s unhinged wife (Serrano)) drop by her apartment to further complicate her life. With added Mambo Taxi.

This was Almodóvar’s breakout international hit and the film that, along with All About My Mother, seems to have found his broadest audience –certainly in my own experience, this is a film that most people have heard of, even if they haven’t seen it. It is a comedy but that label barely covers all that it contains –screwball tragic-comedy might be nearer the mark- because while it is undeniably funny, it also contains heartfelt and believable emotion. If you’ve never seen an Almodóvar film, this is a good place to start.

Reading Almodóvar, Part Two:

Part Two: Authors I - Z

Reading Almodóvar, Part One:

Like my lists of books on Spanish cinema, this is something of a cross between an annotated bibliography and a recommended reading list. This is not intended to be a definitive list –there are an abundance of other books and articles on Almodóvar and his films– but rather a list of texts that I have happened upon while researching Almodóvar, and / or Spanish cinema more generally. I don’t necessarily agree with all of the arguments or interpretations set forth by these authors, but I do think that their views are worth considering. The first Almodóvar film that I saw was Kika (1993), and this list contains a bias towards things written after that point (and about films made after that point as well). Likewise, there is a bias towards texts written in either English or Spanish, but given Almodóvar’s status in France there is also a wealth of material in French out there, if you care to look for it –particularly Cahiers du cinema, Positif, and Premiere (the French version). Most of the French magazines have websites where you can buy back issues (if you can’t get access to them through a library).
If I have embedded a link in the title, it will take you either to the abstract or the article itself –a great deal of material is now available online. Where that isn’t the case I will try to include enough information that you should be able to track it down via another route –if you can’t access the articles online, people in the UK will be able to get copies through the British Library or the BFI Library. In the case of reviews, I have just indicated which film is discussed.

Comatose Women in The Forest: Hable con ella / Talk to Her (Pedro Almodóvar, 2002)

This post is a reworked version of a twenty-minute paper I gave at a conference (‘Bitch, Witch, Whore: Representations of Women in Word and Image’) at Newcastle University in 2006.

Warning: contains spoilers.

   When I was reading about Talk to Her I came across a self-interview (on his website) (2002a) where Almodóvar made reference to Leonor Watling as having been marvellous as Alicia, ‘that sleeping beauty’ (lower case), and that set me to thinking about literary references within the film. The film concerns two ‘couples’ –the first made up of a nurse (Benigno –Javier Cámara) and his patient (Alicia –Leonor Watling), and the second of a journalist (Marco –Dario Grandinetti) and his bullfighting girlfriend (Lydia –Rosario Flores). When Lydia ends up comatose as the result of a bullfight she is placed in the same hospital as Alicia and that is how the two men come to meet each other. Talk to Her is a film concerned with the telling of tales; the audience are rarely shown ‘events’ firsthand, as characters are engaged in a series of flashbacks and a ‘re-telling’ of events. In a departure for Almodóvar, who usually draws his visual and narrative references from the cinema, this film is a tapestry of literary allusions ranging from The Night of the Hunter to Romeo and Juliet to The Hours, with the result that Talk to Her itself can be read in terms of a modern day fairytale. The upbeat ending is also in keeping with Bruno Bettelheim’s reading of the fairy story as being ‘optimistic, no matter how terrifyingly serious some features of the story may be’ (1976: 37).

   While the film focuses on the two male protagonists (Benigno and Marco), this [post] will examine the woman with whom they both interact, Alicia. She is one of a series of comatose or silent women in the narrative, and is cared for in a clinic called ‘El Bosque’, or ‘The Forest’. Alicia is at the epicentre, although not always the subject, of a series of references to archetypal literary heroines such as Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Alice (in Wonderland). This [post] will argue that the combination of literary references and Almodóvar’s reputation as a ‘woman’s director’ means that there is more to the representation of the film’s women, who are comatose, voiceless, and lacking control over their own bodies, than is apparent at first glance. 

La ley del deseo / Law of Desire (Pedro Almodóvar, 1987)

Eusebio Poncela and Antonio Banderas

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Antonio Banderas, Carmen Maura, Eusebio Poncela, Manuela Velasco.

Synopsis: A stalker (Banderas) enters the lives of director Pablo (Poncela) and his sister (formerly brother) Tina (Maura) with tragic consequences –a tale of love and obsession.

This is the first of Almodóvar’s films to be produced by the production company (El Deseo) that he founded with his brother Agustín, and therefore the first of his productions where he had full control over the project. In many ways it is a flipside to his previous film, Matador, insofar as both explore the nature of desire: in Matador desire was centred on sex (and murder) and in Law of Desire the focus is love (in many different guises). Nonetheless desire is shown to be just as obsessive (and dangerous) as in the earlier film as what Pablo (Poncela) views as a casual relationship is seen as rather more by Antonio (Banderas), whose ‘love’ is in turn both obsessive and extremely possessive. Although not without its humorous moments, it is a dark film. That said, I think we are given enough reason to hope that the family unit made up of Pablo, Tina (Maura) and Ada (Velasco) is strong enough to survive the (moving) finale. Maura’s performance is magnificent and she richly deserved the awards that came her way.

Matador (Pedro Almodóvar, 1985)

Assumpta Serna and Nacho Martínez

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar and Jesús Ferrero

Cast: Assumpta Serna, Nacho Martínez, Antonio Banderas, Carmen Maura, Eusebio Poncela, Eva Cobo, Chus Lampreave, Julieta Serrano.

Synopsis: Bullfighting, sex, and death. Sometimes all at once.

This is a bit of an odd one -and Almodóvar admits that he can understand why (to the viewer) the themes (death and destiny) may appear more important than the story (Strauss 2006: 53). The two most memorable scenes (at least, the ones that I remembered ten years after seeing the film for the first time) are the beginning and ending. In the first, we hear the retired bullfighter, Diego (Martínez), describing the perfect kill (in the bullring) to a class of students while we see (meanwhile) María (Serna) killing her lover by the method being described. The closing sequence brings together the same themes (and characters) in an elaborate 'death-as-the-ultimate-orgasm' finale. 

¡Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? / What Have I Done to Deserve This? (Pedro Almodóvar, 1984)

Verónica Forqué and Carmen Maura

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Carmen Maura, Chus Lampreave, Verónica Forqué, Kiti Manver, Angel de Andrés López.

Synopsis: Gloria (Maura) is a prescription drug-addicted working mother struggling to make ends meet for her family.

'Almodóvar-does-social-realism' but with mordant black humour, children being sold to paedophile dentists to cover the bill, the Hitler diaries, death by hambone, and a little girl with telekinesis. Darkly funny and probably the first of Almodóvar’s films to show what Maura is really capable of.

Entre tinieblas / Dark Habits (Pedro Almodóvar, 1983)

Chus Lampreave, Carmen Maura and Marisa Paredes

Director: Pedro Almodóvar

Screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar

Cast: Julieta Serrano, Cristina Pascual, Marisa Paredes, Carmen Maura, Chus Lampreave

Synopsis: After her boyfriend's death-by-overdose, singer Yolanda Bel (Pascual) takes refuge from the police in the convent of the Humiliated Redeemers, run by a Mother Superior (Serrano) who is addicted to bolero music, heroin, and young women. 

My favourite of Almodóvar's early films by a long way. It represents a massive jump forward stylistically (it was the first of his films to have something approaching a normal budget) -everything in the mise-en-scène, from the framing to the colours to the small details in the sets, contains the kernel of what would become a recognisably 'Almodóvarian' style. In the introduction on the UK DVD, José Arroyo argues that this film is an anchor to the rest of Almodóvar's work and it is difficult to disagree. It's not just a matter of a recognisable visual style, or the beginning of what would become a kind of 'repertory company' for him (although it's wonderful to see them all together), or the first time that he uses bolero music to drive the emotion of a scene (side effect of doing an Almodóvarthon: the amount of bolero music on my ipod rises dramatically). It's something to do with the tone. He creates a melodrama (in certain sequences the combination of sound and image recalls the work of Douglas Sirk) with the attendant highs and lows of emotion: this is a tragedy, but it is often also exhilarating. 

If you haven't seen it, I really can't recommend it enough.