La voz humana

The dog is identified in the film credits at the end, but oddly not here - his name is Dash. And he does a great job.

Trying to reconcile the prospect of a love now seem inexistent, a woman and a dog before abandonment watch the passing of time and wait for a resolution that might never come.

Pedro Almodóvar's first film in English is a free adaptation of Jean Cocteau's play La voix humaine from 1930, a monodrama where a woman is waiting for her lover who she was in a relationship with for the last five years. This is not the first time he took inspiration from it, in 1988 he made Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios.

A lively color palette drapes everything in its wake and introduces us to Tilda Swinton. Owing to an overhead shot we discover the apartment is a film set, wood walls, no ceiling, etc. This empty sound stage echoes the protagonist's loneliness and sense of abandon as a menace from outside where the empty spaces claim larger areas than their opposites. Almodóvar traces vulnerability and desperation not with delicacy but with an accentuating force that ricochets the wood-paneled walls of the film set. The drama is such a force that an ax is the object of preference to erase what cannot be forgotten, memories haunting our protagonist like looming remainders of happy times now resignified. Even the dog is restless and appears to find no solace while waiting for his companion.

La voz humana leans on dialogue and visuals to construct a microcosm that touches a special place given the anxieties of people who could relate to it. Metaphorically, it is much more open and contains seeds that could grow in different directions.

A film about the world, about loss and about the pressures of reality. A beautiful performance from Swinton. The colours, phrasing and staging are just wonderful. A great watch and in places humorous some how.

One thing I noticed, and adored, about Almodóvar, is that despite his unequivocal propensity for incorporating comedy with melodrama, there's no way his films could come across as either silly or overly sentimental. For his stories are laced with considerable nuance. His Women on the Verge on a Nervous Breakdown, which is also based on Jean Cocteau's play, "La voix humaine" as this short is, maintains an incremental humorous tone so much so it could be adequately described, by its end, as a farce. Yet, as we see Pepa trying to figure out why her lover dumped her without an explanation, Almodóvar delves into Pepa's psyche with great subtlety that's apt for her precarious state. That's why I thought The Human Voice would benefit greatly from the concentrated nature of short films. Our unnamed protagonist's wait for three days for her lover to come in a last chance to see him has filled her with rage. A vindictive rage almost identical to that of The Bride in Kill Bill, but she still loves him. So she acts out like a maniac: stabbing one of her lover's suits with an axe in a harmless cathartic release. She wouldn't dare to actually hurt him; she still loves him. Therefore, she's so vulnerable. Over the course of her conversation with his lover, her seemingly stable and wry demeanour gradually crumbles, exposing both her helplessness and her futile undirected rage. Almodóvar brilliantly highlights such contradiction and lays her feelings bare by showing the soundstage her exuberantly furnished, sumptuously coloured apartment is constructed upon. As she grows more desperate, she begins to lose control. Finally, she decides to free herself from the submissive woman she's always been, and put an end to their toxic relationship - after all, her love made her too fragile and delicate to venture to turn the tables on him as Alma did on Reynolds in Phantom Thread. The thing is, I didn't feel that she loves him. What's baffling is that I can't put my finger on why exactly I feel so, but it's likely due to the stagy feel this film has. It is a showcase of Tilda Swinton's thespian prowess, but, at times, her monologue comes off rather like a soliloquy - like there's no one on the other side of the phone line. Regardless, The Human Voice is an eye-popping, exquisitely-made feminist work with witty sarcastic undertones.

Jean Cocteau's play La Voix Humaine (The Human Voice) opened at the Comédie Française in 1930 as a atar vehicle for Belgian actress Berthe Bovy, then popular in Parisian stages. The work involves a woman, only identified as Elle = She, speaking on the telephone with his lover of several years, who is leaving her.for another woman. Her interlocutor is silent for the duration and we don't even know for sure if he is listening or if the connection has been broken.

The play had an enduring popularity, and has been since in the repertory of many theater companies. It was put on screen several times, among them by Roberto Rossellini (first episode of L'Amore 1946: actress Anna Magnani) and by Ted Kotcheff (1966: actress Ingrid Bergman). It even had a second life as an opera by Francis Poulenc in 1958, which has been as well accepted as the play and is still being staged and recorded.

This being the Almodóvar version, we may expect some off the wall happenings. One is a very funny scene where the protagonist browses for axes in a hardware store that seems to have an unusually large inventory of the item. On another, the axe in question is used in a hilarious way. We are shown mid-movie that She's apartment is actually a set in a sound stage which is perhaps a gentle dig at he artificiality of the play. And, last but not least, we have the director's trademark, cinematography in gloriously saturated colors. Tilda Swinton does an outstanding job as She; she tones down the melodrama and borders on the humorous at times. All in all, a refreshing take on the play and the best version I have seen.