¡Feliz cumpleaños, Pedro!

Almodóvar notches up another year today. I don't think there is really any better way I can celebrate this oft celebrated auteur of modern cinema than to blather on about how I came to love him and his work. So in the words of Christina Aguilera: ven conmigo.

It all began at the Longford Cinema on Toorak Road, which has long since closed. I was staying with my sister, who had just moved to Melbourne, and I had (foolishly) chosen to see Verbert's The Dinner Game. Urgh, bad film, but it was there that I saw the trailer for Todo sobre mi madre. The beauty of it was that there were three old ladies sitting in front of me, their blue wigs obscured the screen a little but they were immensely entertaining. The scene went something like this:

Screen Titles:A PART OF EVERY WOMAN IS A MOTHER
3 Little Biddies: Ooh, that looks lovely!
Screen Titles:A PART OF EVERY WOMAN IS AN ACTRESS
3 Little Biddies: Ooh, this one looks very nice.
Screen Titles:A PART OF EVERY WOMAN IS A SAINT
3 Little Biddies: Ooh, she's beautiful.
Screen Titles:A PART OF EVERY WOMAN IS A SINNER
3 Little Biddies: Oh, this looks interesting...
Screen Titles:A PART OF EVERY MAN IS A WOMAN
3 Little Biddies: Oh dear, I don't think, um, er...

I knew right away I had found a new favourite director and I hadn't even seen one of his films yet.


When I managed to finally catch All About My Mother at the Luna Cinema in Perth I was about two weeks away from heading over to Spain for the first time. The shot when the camera crests the summit of Montjuïc to reveal the geometric splendour of Barcelona's streetlights made my whole trip tantalisingly real. The ease with which Almodóvar could slip a pregnant, HIV infected, transexual-loving nun into a story without losing the "normalcy" left me amazed. I laughed, I cried, I ached. I fell in love with the film and its father.

And then I left for Spain.

In Spain I found another home and my first love, Joaquín (okay, my second, after Pedro). For almost a year I soaked up the Spanish sun, vino con Casera, bullfights and art. I left shattered (boyfriends are shit) and aching to go back and it was Pedro who took me there.

Don (suprise, suprise) was there to help me pick up the pieces, Don and Planet Video. We started with Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios, which Don already had in his extensive (and yet to be stolen) dvd collection. Ah, gazpacho... everything took me back. I remember having had a conversation with Joaquín about Rossy de Palma and how Almodóvar had made her and her freakishly striking looks into an internationally renowned actress and model. Women On The Verge... is a textbook example of millisecond-perfect comic timing.


I don't remember the order we watched the rest but they tumbled freely off the videostore shelves. I think the first stash included Labyrinth of Passion, Live Flesh, Matador and Pepi, Luci, Bom.... I certainly remember taking in Matador with Neale delighted with the blood and spectacle on the neighbouring couch. I instantly loved Live Flesh and to this day it remains one of my favourite of Almodóvar's oeuvre. Structurally it is exquisitely taut and the layers of guilt that blanket the characters is immensely powerful. Bardem and Rabal's "revealing" acting made everything that little bit more worthwhile.


As we mined the back catalogue so quickly everything is a bit of a blur. What stands out? Chus Lampreave in What Have I Done To Deserve This?, that woman cracks me up; Victoria Abril as Andrea Caracortada in Kika, as well as Pedro's mother as the illiterate host of a literature television show, classic; Antonio in, well, everything; oh, and the pissing scene in Pepi, Luci, Bom... I could go on forever, such a wealth of cinema consumed in a few short days.

And then the waiting game began.

One of the desperations of living in the antipodes is that it takes a while for films to make their way down. I can't really say they were worth the wait. Despite the critics all clambering over themselves to go ga-ga over Almodóvar's toenail clippings, I personally found Talk To Her and Bad Education confused and disjointed. I loved their aesthetics and that performance by Caetano Veloso by the swimming pool is worth the price of admission alone but I felt they lacked the cohesion of Pedro's earlier works.


And that pretty much brings us to now. Much of the world waits to see if Almodóvar is able to deliver another cinematic diamond. Anyone who has seen Volver will readily let you know that he can. God knows how long my compatriots will have to wait to see it if they missed its surprise screening at MIFF this year, luckily this time around I didn't have to wait.

Don Pedro, for the joy you have given me, for that link back to the insanity of your country, for the characters and the colours, I thank you.

Happy birthday.

Tags: Almodóvar, cinema, Spain