JULIETA (2016)
Directed by Pedro
Almodóvar
Warner Brothers
(Spain), 96 minutes, R (nudity and sex)
In Spanish with
subtitles
★★★★
After a long string of regrettable cinema experiences, I
gave up on Pedro Almodóvar. For me, he had become the Spanish Woody Allen—a
self-indulgent pseudo-intellectual constantly recycling shopworn ideas and
trying to hide his lack of creativity behind a screen of pretentious dialogue
the likes of which no earthly person actually utters. When a trustworthy soul
told me that Julieta was different, I
relented and I'm glad I did. This is the best thing Almodóvar has done since Talk to Her (2002). Julieta is everything Almodóvar has been lacking. It is focused,
tightly structured, and humane. In fact, it's that rarest of films: one about
tragedy that is simultaneously sweet, hopeful, and biting.
Almodóvar skillfully weaves three Alice Munro short stories
to cover approximately thirty years in the life of Julieta Arcos. We first meet
her older self as she is on the verge (pun intended!) of the downward slide
away from middle age, but toward a new adventure. She is about to leave Madrid
and relocate to Portugal with her attentive and sensitive long-time partner
Lorenzo Gentile (Darío Grandinetti). A chance encounter with Beatriz, a young
woman who was her daughter Antia's childhood friend, opens a sealed off chapter
of Julieta's past. Beatriz bears
the news that she briefly saw Antia in Switzerland, which sends Julieta down a
rabbit hole of depression, regret, and deep hurt as her daughter left home at
18 and severed all contact with her mother. Julieta impulsively rejects Lorenzo
and moves back to an apartment building where she and Antia once lived. There
she composes a confessional journal, but to whom? She has no way of contacting
her daughter.
Almodóvar has never been a fan of linear filmmaking, but
this time he connects flashbacks with the present so expertly that we easily
connect the tragic dots that led to mother/daughter estrangement. A train
journey and two chance encounters touch off the butterfly effect. Or perhaps I
should say the ruminant effect, as a magnificent stag charging across a snowy trackside
field symbolizes determination and desire, but also reckless passion. The human
encounters tie Julieta's future to Xoan (Daniel Grao), a fisherman with a
comatose wife and animal magnetism; his Bride of Frankenstein-like housekeeper,
Marian (Rossy de Palma); and a free-spirited sculptress, Ana (Imma Castro). Each
will play a role in the mother-daughter drama.
Passions of all sorts are unleashed in this film: libidinal,
intellectual, artistic, maternal, spiritual…. They play out against various
tragic backdrops, including drowning, disease, infidelity, guilt, and unspoken
resentments. As you might surmise, the latter two are, in their own way, more
deadly than mortality itself.
Almodóvar cast exceptionally well in choosing Adriane Ugarte
as Julieta in her young adult years and Emma Suárez as her older self. Ugarte
is breathtakingly beautiful, but Suárez is so much like her facially and
physically that we can easily imagine Ugarte thirty years hence as a
still-attractive woman whose innocence has been tempered by sophistication and
experience. Grandinetti also strikes all the right chords as an urbane
gentleman torn between lingering and moving on. All of the secondary characters
contribute convincing performances.
It is worth paying attention to many things that could
easily be overlooked amidst the emotional pulls of the film. There is a lot of
foreshadowing and repetition that marshal Munro's three stories into a circular
structure, but also visual details that reel us in, such as the use of bold
patterns, the stark jolt of contrasting colors, and the use of art as both
texture and prefiguration. Plus, few rival Almodóvar when it comes to etching
the film's arc upon the human face. Days later you could be shown a dozen
random stills from the film and extrapolate the script from the characters' expressions.
Though the movie is just an hour and a half long, its emotional scale feels
epic.
Those who like Almodóvar's more loosely structured films
have been lukewarm about Julieta, but
I feel the opposite. With Julieta,
Almodóvar wins a reprieve from my no-view ban. It would, however, take a
miracle for Woody Allen to win a pardon.
Rob Weir
#julietafilm
#almodovar
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