RE:Volver

Tonight I went, along with The Two Lizzes, to see Pedro Almodovar's Volver. I had assumed that I wouldn't get the chance to see it in the theater, and in fact already have it added to my Netflix queue. But then, last night, I checked Movies.com, and discovered that it was being shown, as part of an Emerging Cinema series, at the Lake Worth Playhouse, which is within walking distance of where I lived when I was in AmeriCorps last year. Who knew?

Anyways, the film is splendid, as I had every confidence that it would be. I am an unapologetic fan of Almodovar: his blend of Sirkian melodama with a sort of profane surrealistic humor speaks to something fundamental in me. I admit that, while I admired his last film, Bad Education, tremedously, I haven't been able to bring myself to re-watch it, as I have his other films. Something about it lacks the warmth of some of his other films, and a sense of cynicism seems to underlie its entirety. From his attempt at (male-dominated) Hitchcockian suspense, he turns back to Sirk's womens' pictures as his primary muse with this film. Shots of giant windmills overwhelming a bleak landscape bring to mind the shots of the oil wells in Sirk's Written On The Wind -- one of my favorite movies, by the way -- as does the notion of returning to "the river", a symbol for a simpler time that has since passed. But Almodovar applies the deftly elegant writing that typified Bad Education to this picture, with details casually introduced at the beginning of the film, only to take on greater significance as the story progresses. As he himself says on the official website: "My films are becoming more and more difficult to tell and summarize in a few lines." This is true, and this is not, to my mind, a bad thing at all. But as complicated as it gets, the flow of the story seems very organic, almost naturalistic, in spite of the almost operatic plot. Almodovar knows the importance of not setting out all the information before the audience from the start of the picture, something which can occasionally leave the audience reeling, but which also allows a sense of discovery as the plot unfolds.

On a purely fannish level, it is a joy to see both Carmen Maura and Chus Lampreave, both Almodovar veterans from as far back as 1983's Dark Habits, again gracing his films. And Penelope Cruz, in her third Almodovar film, acquits herself beautifully to her role. Her acting is natural and graceful, and seemingly effortless when not encumbered by the burden of the English language. I have never seen her more beautiful -- apparently, she wore a prosthetic ass in order to look more realistic, and, I have to say, it suits her. And, as heavy as the film occasionally is, it is also very funny.

In addition to all of this, one scene takes place to Saint Etienne's "A Good Thing". Talk about two great tastes that taste great together!

This is the best film I've seen in a long, long time. I recommend seeing it.