Salvador Mallo, a film director in his physical decline, reencounters or remembers his past: his childhood in a village, the first desire, his first adult love in 80s Madrid, the pain of that breakup. In recovering his past, Salvador finds the urgent need to recount it, and also finds his salvation.
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As a film about filmmaking, Pain and Glory pivots on the mechanics of how screenwriting becomes cinema. Its meta-cinematic ending rivals Little Women’s but refuses to try to impress anyone watching it.
[UCI El Corte] À la Recherche du temps Perdu via una gota de caballo. In the end your mama will be indifferent to your achievements, your monster love will go to another country, have children+that's that and El deseo will feel like a heatstroke you thought you were over with. Karma, soul diseases y asma intrínseca will bring ya back to reality. 20 years into his work this tastes like adios amigxs. No me dejes crl</3
After the first 40 minutes kind of wasted in husky-voiced bad acting and barely interesting plot, both Almodóvar and Banderas make a u-turn and deliver their best and most revelatory work in decades bringing a definitive work of autofiction with a particular cadence and editing that only works because it is directed by someone who truly knows and loves melodramas, the good kind.
Pedro straddles the current moment, fully in command, if sufficiently loose w/ the reins as to allow us to apprehend that in this world you are a co-pilot at best. An actress playing the imago tells an Antonio Banderas playing a surrogate that she learned the word "autoficition," which she's just used, from one of his interviews. Gates open. If time breaks things down, in might also be our only shot at meaning.
Antonio Banderas gives the performance of his career in this brilliant film that transcends the medium and Fellini's 8 1/2. Almodovar proves once again that he is one of the greatest filmmakers to ever live. Almodovar is the cinema.
Pedro's second old-soul movie in a row is a winding tale of art & life getting so tangled together you can't tell which is imitating which. A film director, the real people who inspired him, the actors who reinterpret—this is familiar Almodovar ground, but the weight of time feels new. Its main idea is that, for any artist, a life story doesn't belong to you alone. Which is why it's Antonio's movie as much as his.
A personal and moving film from director Almodovar in which a director suffering from various aliments becomes haunted by memories of his past and former glories. Antoio Banderas gives a remarkable performance here well supported by a cast of Almodovar regulars. Technically the film is a treat matching the standards set by the filmmaker. Film does lag in the final section but is saved by a perfect ending.
Cinema. I'm not an Almodovarian but sometimes some of his films reach a personalized note that instigates an intrusive and inventive formality. This is not the case, although it is a very frank and honest film, rare in this respect. Almodóvar famous melodramatic maturity is also uninspiring in formal terms. Here we have expected rhymes and passages, no more. Banderas became a huge actor.
i liked the scene where they watched a lucrecia martel film and did heroin. pedro is clearly working through some personal shit in this that ultimately isn't that interesting for a spectator, but i suppose that's ok