Kelly WandWomen on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
September 27th 2006 02:50
I think it would be really hard not to love this movie. I can’t imagine striking up a conversation with someone who hated this flick. I mean, it is so bright and full of fun. It may not make you laugh out loud but you feel like you are in good company throughout.
Carmen Maura’s central performance as Pepa is astounding. We know this character automatically. You know what it’s like when you’ve been going out with someone for a while and you know what every tiny facial gesture means? You read Pepa straight away and you fall in love. You hope she never plays poker because she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Pepa is an actress who has been living with her co-star, Ivan. He is a shit-heel of the highest order. We meet him walking down the road making silken promises of eternal devotion to strangers on the street. Pepa wakes up to find herself dumped by answer machine. It doesn’t help that she has just found out she is pregnant.
(And as a sidebar, when did we as humans stoop to a level whereby we ended relationships by post it notes, e-mails or the telephone? Anyone currently reading this who takes this as personal criticism should perhaps refer to Carly Simon’s “You’re so Vain”. Believe me, you are not alone. Meanwhile, I refuse to get a mobile phone on the basis that I will never place myself in a position where I can be forced to endure the indignity of being dumped by SMS.)
Pepa is devastated by this turn of events. She barely notices as she accidentally sets her bed on fire. It is, however, a great metaphor. From there on, the film’s plot branches out into a myriad of complications you probably only see in Billy Wilder movies. Here, you just ratchet the volume up a notch thanks to an over-heated Latino sensibility.
Pepa’s friend Candella is on the run from the police because she has been dating a Shiite terrorist. Pepa approaches a lawyer on her behalf but she turns out to be the woman that Ivan is running away with. Ivan’s ex-wife has just got out of the psychiatric hospital and she figures the only way she’ll forget about him is to kill him. Pepa can’t stand living in the apartment she shared with Ivan so she decides to rent it out – burnt bed and all. Who should come to inspect the property but Ivan’s son Carlos and his girlfriend Marisa. Marisa takes a slug of tomato juice laced with sleeping pills and goes off for a little nap which gives Candella and Carlos the few minutes together it takes for them to fall in love.
Okay. Have you got the picture now? Good.
This film is director Pedro Almodovar working at his absolute best. He takes that Nineteen fifties technicolour Hollywood feel and gets all drunken and delirious. I could rave about the cinematic in-jokes and the spectacular opening credit sequence. I could, if I have not already done so, declare my undying love for Carmen Maura. I could waffle on and on and on.
Just bloody watch the film. Okay?
Carmen Maura’s central performance as Pepa is astounding. We know this character automatically. You know what it’s like when you’ve been going out with someone for a while and you know what every tiny facial gesture means? You read Pepa straight away and you fall in love. You hope she never plays poker because she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Pepa is an actress who has been living with her co-star, Ivan. He is a shit-heel of the highest order. We meet him walking down the road making silken promises of eternal devotion to strangers on the street. Pepa wakes up to find herself dumped by answer machine. It doesn’t help that she has just found out she is pregnant.
(And as a sidebar, when did we as humans stoop to a level whereby we ended relationships by post it notes, e-mails or the telephone? Anyone currently reading this who takes this as personal criticism should perhaps refer to Carly Simon’s “You’re so Vain”. Believe me, you are not alone. Meanwhile, I refuse to get a mobile phone on the basis that I will never place myself in a position where I can be forced to endure the indignity of being dumped by SMS.)
Pepa is devastated by this turn of events. She barely notices as she accidentally sets her bed on fire. It is, however, a great metaphor. From there on, the film’s plot branches out into a myriad of complications you probably only see in Billy Wilder movies. Here, you just ratchet the volume up a notch thanks to an over-heated Latino sensibility.
Pepa’s friend Candella is on the run from the police because she has been dating a Shiite terrorist. Pepa approaches a lawyer on her behalf but she turns out to be the woman that Ivan is running away with. Ivan’s ex-wife has just got out of the psychiatric hospital and she figures the only way she’ll forget about him is to kill him. Pepa can’t stand living in the apartment she shared with Ivan so she decides to rent it out – burnt bed and all. Who should come to inspect the property but Ivan’s son Carlos and his girlfriend Marisa. Marisa takes a slug of tomato juice laced with sleeping pills and goes off for a little nap which gives Candella and Carlos the few minutes together it takes for them to fall in love.
Okay. Have you got the picture now? Good.
This film is director Pedro Almodovar working at his absolute best. He takes that Nineteen fifties technicolour Hollywood feel and gets all drunken and delirious. I could rave about the cinematic in-jokes and the spectacular opening credit sequence. I could, if I have not already done so, declare my undying love for Carmen Maura. I could waffle on and on and on.
Just bloody watch the film. Okay?
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