Vote for Pedro [PAIN AND GLORY Film Review]

[*note: this film is in.Spanish with English subtitles.]

Truth be told, I’ve never given Pedro Almodovar his just dues. I have seen at least six of his films over the past 35 years and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every one of them. Yet, invariably, when a new Almodovar film is announced, my initial reaction usually resides in the “Meh” response category. I have no fucking idea why this is. I mean dude is a great filmmaker; an auteur in possession of a keen visual sense and his way with dialogue borders on the fantastic. When Almodovar’s latest endeavor popped up at a theater near me I  figured “What the heck?” I am super glad I didn’t give two or even three hecks because the film is immensely enjoyable, not only visually and thematically, but also oratorically.
But I digress. Pain And Glory unravels like a memoir delivered by a slightly unreliable, yet insanely charismatic protagonist Salvador Mallo (Antonio Banderas) who may or may not be the writer/director himself. The whole glorious mess is additionally dressed up in wonderfully droll melodramatic tones heightened with just the right amounts of robust satire and meta fiction.
This film is anchored by a fantastic performance from Banderas as an aging film director coming to terms with his own physical and creative mortality (for those who care about such things, Banderas won "Best Actor" at Cannes this year). Backing Banderas is a stellar supporting cast which includes Penelope Cruz as well as a bunch of other Spanish and Argentine actors I probably should know but had never heard of prior. They are all great and even come close to upstaging Banderas on occasion (to wit, Asier Etxeandia is beyond stellar in his role as Alberto Crespo, a dragon chasing has-been actor).
The first act bristles with biting humor and quasi-absurdist moments before dipping into the second act which more often than not feels a bit maudlin and reliant on tele novella-inspired melodrama. Then the third act comes back and turns everything on its collective head with an ending that is so perfectly meta poignant (or poignantly meta?) that it’s not only emotionally stunning, but also changes the whole meaning of the entire film in one swift swoop.  In fact, this may be one of the best endings I've seen in a film in a long, long time; it changes your entire view of what you have been watching the whole time.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
While the acting is undeniably the focal point of the film, it is expertly augmented by Almodovar's sharp use of color in every damn shot.  On some levels it reminds me of how Italian director Dario Argento expertly employed color in his seminal ‘70s films, except where Argento used a vivid palette to create an unnerving sense of terror, Almodovar uses rich hues to create feelings of warmth and comfort mixed with just a tinge of surreality and sadness; everything in Almodovar’s world is bright and happy, but also somewhat cartoonish, highly introspective, and even bittersweet at the same time.
Coupled with the visual complexity is a wonderfully understated score by Alberto Iglesias (BTW, he won "Best Soundtrack" at Cannes this year...). There are repeated refrains which run throughout the film helping to create an overwhelming sense of familiarity and repetition that greatly adds to the storytelling. The score is never overpowering, though, but rather adds subtle sonic nuance to the proceedings.
But back to the story. The whole film is a loose recollection of the protagonist’s memories, ranging from the opening moments of the film which give us a joyous flashback scene of Cruz (who portrays the young version of Mallo’s mother) and a passel of Spanish worker women washing sheets and clothing in a river. As they shake out the linens and drape them over bushes to dry they begin singing and dancing. It is the only moment in the film that is not subtitled, so non-Spanish speaking audiences will have no idea what the song says, but its tone is one of joy and carefreeness; it’s a hyper real moment that sets the poignant tone which percolates throughout the rest of the film.
Other scenes with Cruz are equally enrapturing, from a night spent in a train station to a familial relocation to a small village where they eventually end up living in a cave. As for Banderas, he manages to convey age with grace and humor, sporting a wildly unkempt hairstyle, a heavily salted beard, and walking about stiffly (his character suffers from numerous physical maladies).
I know I already mentioned the ending of the film, but damn if it doesn’t warrant a repeat. It comes out of left field and turns the film from being an exercise in self reflection into a sublimely self referential slice of irony; it literally changes the interpretation of every scene that occurred prior. Sure, you could call it a twist, but it’s more than that. It’s a slyly emotional bait and switch that delivers a subdued wallop of simultaneous joy and sadness. Whatever you wish to call it, it is one of the coolest endings ever committed to film. I smiled and cried simultaneously.
While on the surface Pain and Glory seems to be chronicling the loves and losses incurred by a celebrity, ultimately, the film is about addictions, whether they be chemical, emotional, physical, or mental. It is all delivered in a package that is richly rendered, gloriously nostalgic, and emotionally immersive. That it all ends up having a uniquely personal manner is the icing on the San Marcos Cake. I suggest you ask for a really big slice. And don’t forget to lick the plate.

Rating: 4 (out of 5)
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