Parle avec elle

There are many who say that "Todo Sobre Mi Madre" is his best film, but now that I've seen both these movies, I give the nod - by a long way - to "Hable con Ella". This is a masterpiece, and not just because of the poignancy of the characters, or the story in general, or the way the scenes are shot - watching the matador get dressed was quite engrossing - but EVERYTHING comes together so wonderfully. The brilliance of Spanish-language films never fails to amaze me, and this is another one in that long line of greatness. There will be times where the viewer may feel somewhat uncomfortable with the characters and their actions, but that does not stop Almodovar from exploring such emotions; indeed, one sometimes gets the impression that Almodovar's entire purpose is to make you analyze your own feelings - and simply does it better than anyone else. Recommended for anyone who can read subtitles.

This is a film about men and their emotions. One man has a relationship with a woman, the most famous female matador in Spain. He cries over the most strange things. The female matador gets in a coma. The other man is in love with a woman, he has only spoken to her once. The man is a male nurse and when the woman gets in a coma he is the one to take care of her. Some people around him thinks he is gay so he is allowed to take care of her, see her naked, touch her. The two men get to know each other while waiting at the beds of their loved ones.

I will not reveal what happens with the two women, or with the men. The way the subject is handled is great. In one way we see the two man devoting their lives two women. In another way we see the creepy part of that. For example we know the male nurse is in love with the one he is taking care of, and as I said, he sees naked every day. The woman seems to be an obsession, the man seems to be obsessed. We have sympathy for the men anyway.

The acting is good, a very intelligent story and a great direction makes this film one of the year's best. In the end you will have a strange feeling, and a good feeling as well.

Pedro Almodovar's "Talk to Her" is as suprisingly sweet as it is profoundly disturbing. It is an examination of the nature of love that attempts to challenge our idea of what love is by taking it to its very limits. The lead character is a typical sad sack; slightly disturbed, isolated and sexually inexperienced. He spends his days staring out of his window at a rapturously beautiful dancer, and tries to form a relationship with her by becoming a patient at her father's psychiatric practice. This eventually leads to disaster when he sneaks into her room to steal an item of hers and finds her just coming out of the shower. But the guy perseveres. After spending years looking after his mother (Who wasn't an invalid, she just didn't like moving very much) he gains a degree in nursing and works with camatose patients. To his joy, one of the camatose patients turns out to be the dancer, and so now he can spend all day expressing and demonstrating his love for her. At least, you could see it that way. Or you could see it as an innocent and helpless girl delivered into the hands of a sexual deviant stalker who now can manhandle her and fantacise about her in any way he pleases. I think you can guess by now where the film is heading, and when the ultimate act is committed, Almodovar presents it in such a way as to show the audience how it could be interpreted as an act of love and selflessness. We never see the act itself, only the man's interpretation of it, and the sequence is, suprisingly, quite funny and, in strange way, touching. But that does not alter the fact that Almodovar is attempting to make rape emotionally acceptable. The film makes this particularly clear by its ending, which, if you have been following this review, I am sure you could also guess. Call me a prude, but I have always felt that love that is only felt by one person is not truly love. True love is something that built by two people by constant attention and care. If I tell someone, "I love you" and she cannot say "I love you too," then I am only really in love with an illusion, not a person.

On watching "Talk To Her", one of the first things you will notice is the beauty of film-work involved. The colours are rich and saturated, the image is crisp and the camera work is superb. Smooth panning shots and steady zooms guide you safely though s slightly fractured narrative, cutting between the past, present and future on occasions.

This discontinuity, however, isn't confusing to the viewer and is, in fact, far from it. The cast act and speak so clearly that it is a perfect introduction to anyone new to foreign language film and, aside from the minor plot-line of bullfighting, there aren't an abundance of Spanish cultural references.

This film, essentially, is a complex story laid out in an extremely simple form. It is not a film you will forget and, no doubt, will think about a lot after watching it. Also, unlike a lot of critically acclaimed films, you will not be cogitating over the events that took place in the film, you will be asking yourself how they apply to your life and relationships with others. Despite "Talk To Her"'s tragic story, it is an incredibly fun film to watch and discuss with others and a film I am extremely glad I added to my collection, having heard little about it at the time I bought it. 9/10

TALK TO HER (2002) **** Javier Camara, Dario Grandinetti, Leonor Watling, Rosario Flores, Mariola Fuentes, Geraldine Chaplin. Filmmaker Pedro Almodovar once again creates a cinematic masterpiece in his ongoing quest to bring together the war of the sexes as a harmonic convergence this time in a somewhat surreal matter involving a male nurse (Camara) and a tough yet sensitive journalist (Grandinetti) who form a unique friendship when his girlfriend, a bullfighter (Flores), is gored and sent into a coma landing her in the hospital where Camara is taking care of his ‘beloved' (Watling), a dancer, who he has fallen in love with her when he (in a sense) was stalking her. Love, sex, desire and social ills fall into one heady mix of melodrama, soap opera fodder and a sprinkling of comedy as well as a memorable foray into silent cinema with `The Shrinking Lover' (think of an NC-17 version of `The Incredible Shrinking Man') that actually serves as a Greek chorus as to the happenings occurring. Controversial, bold and audacious in its execution yet ultimately haunting, harrowing and altogether human (and humane). One of the year's best films.