Dolor y gloria

After having seen this film, I overheard the conversation of the couple next to me while the end credits rolled over the screen. 'So beautiful! And so much red!'. It was exactly what I was thinking. Red is the colour of this film. The scenes without anything red in it, are sparse. The abundance of the colour red proves how meticulously Pedro Almodovar has taken care of every small detail in this film. The result is a feast for the eyes. But the film is not only very stylish, it is also very emotional - as is often the case in Almodovar's work. The story is about a film director looking back on his work and his life, in which pain and glory each play a part. His life is miserable, his body is in pain and his career seems to be in decline. But when a film museum asks him to discuss a film he made 30 years ago, he learns to see things in a different perspective. He resolves a bitter conflict, meets a long lost former lover and reflects on the death of his mother. The themes are tied together by a clever script, with long flashbacks. It's interesting to know to what extend this story was inspired by Aldomovar's own life and career. When an acclaimed film maker makes a film about an acclaimed film maker, this is an inevitable question. The imaginary masterpiece from 30 years ago, with a poster showing a tongue sensually licking the lips, could very well have been one of Almodovar's own exuberant movies from his early period. Some typical Almodovar-themes are present in this film, like the mother-son relation, and the catholic faith. Also, the two leads, Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz, are present in the casts of several of his films. In every aspect, this is a quintessential Almodovar movie.

Less bombastic than some of his previous work (which I also love, by the way), this bittersweet film shows the maturity of a director that's been around and seen it all, someone who's experienced both pain and glory and is asking himself what's next in life. In this partly autobiographical narrative, his most personal so far, Almodovar expresses some frustration with aging and with loneliness, but also his appreciation for the path that he's had the privilege to make for himself and continues to work on, and the people who are important to him. He succeeds in exploring nostalgia without succumbing to sappiness. If anything, Almodovar's senses and craft are sharper than ever. He's able to be critical and loving at the same time. I like how has evolved through the decades and that he keeps experimenting with different styles of storytelling. Antonio Banderas' award-worthy performance as the director's alter ego is understated, yet bold. Almodovar said in an interview that the choice was obvious, as Banderas is to him what Marcello Mastroianni was to Federico Fellini. And indeed there are some similarities between this film and '8 1/2': both films deal with the creative process. But whereas Fellini approaches the topic as a gladiator confronting obstacles with whip in hand, Almodovar is more low key and seems to point to tenderness as his weapon of choice.

The story about the artistic crisis and depression. Once the noise of the glory goes away, there's nothing but emptiness and pain inside. Almodóvar has created this autobiographical masterpiece during his darkest and the most lonely moments in his life. It's different from everything that the genius had shared with the world before. Feeling of loneliness and pain in every scene, that makes a glory so unimportant and empty, when you have no one to share it with. The director made the audience hold the breath while he was speaking and sharing his most intimate secrets, his memories and regrets about the past.

Endless respect for Almodóvar for making this autobiographical movie so personal and sincere.

I. Short review:

Half autobiographic, half fiction, Almodóvar's most intimate work is an european drama carved with humor and intense emotions you wouldn't want to miss, Antonio Banderas is a tour de force.

II. Full review:

Since this year's Cannes Film Festival celebration in which Pain and Glory competed for the Palm d'Or for best picture and supposedly the favorite to win, I took quite interest in Almodóvar's new film, also my personal experiences with two of his films that I've seen, 'Talk to Her' (which I think is an absolute masterpiece), and the very creative thriller 'The Skin I Live In' (also starring Antonio Banderas), were strong factors of that interest.

The film tells the story of a depressed and aching director that reconnects with old friends and people he used to care about, at the time that he reflects on his humble but enlightning past in several ways, all from the perspective of his gloomy and lonesome present.

Pain and Glory escalates in a ladder of triumphs, since its mesmerizing soundtrack by Alberto Iglesias (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), an astonishing cinematography by José Luis Alcaine, a masterful direction and gripping script by Pedro Almodóvar, to its top and greatest gift of all: a colossal performance by Antonio Banderas, which justifies his award for best actor in Cannes 2019.

A filmmaker (Antonio Banderas) deals with physical and mental ailments as he approaches old age, settling in to a sad kind of torpor as he reflects on life. People have come and gone and the real pain here seems to be quiet melancholy of regret, his body's (significant) issues notwithstanding. The film meanders a bit and suffers at times with pacing, but through his reflections and flashbacks, it tells a touching story about coming to peace with those we've known in life.

There's the filmmaker's mother (Penélope Cruz), who sent him to a seminary for most of his schooling because she had no money for a secular education, which led to him not learning much. In old age she dies alone in a hospital instead of in her home village, where he had promised to take her. (Oddly, the actor playing the elderly mother, Julieta Serrano, has blue eyes whereas Cruz's are brown, which was a little jarring to me). These are the things that swirl around in his mind as he still grieves over losing her.

There is also the actor from one of his popular films (Asier Etxeandia), who he had a falling out with decades ago, but who he reconnects with and is then introduced to heroin by. He casually tries it and then alarmingly we see him quickly hooked, which makes for what seemed like one of the longer subplots, which I wasn't all that interested in. There is an old lover who surfaces (Leonardo Sbaraglia), a man who disappeared out of his life and is now married with children, and the scene the two share is full of authenticity and warmth. He also recalls a time in childhood when he tutored a handyman for payment of services to his mother, and felt the first flush of desire when he saw him bathing.

I think Almodóvar was wise to draw a line at this last character not physically meeting him decades later, as it gave the film realism and a wistful bit of sentimentality. True to form, he also gives the viewer an explosion of primary colors, and there is certainly a lot of beauty on the screen. That kitchen, especially with its bold red cabinets, made me wonder if such a space would be too loud to live in, but later I read that it was modeled on Almodóvar's own home. I also loved the little touch of the Cruz's character and her friends breaking in to a light song while washing their clothes in the river. Nothing "big" happens here, but in its quiet way, it reflects the director, and his pain and glory in life.